114 | John W. Warner IV tires on fire. Now were getting somewhere. This is what I call action! said Takuta, sweating, heart pumping, viewing the carnage from a vision slit. Quiet, you! She swatted a few flies. Howd they get in here? Gwafa, pick it up a notch.Then coughed at the fumes, sweating pints. We are almost there. Gwafa moved ahead faster, the engines roaring, the generator, electric motors, and cooling fans whining a din. Powerful sun began to warm his cramped compartment, and exhaust fumes made him gag a little. Hands sweaty, he turned the wheel hard over, locked up one track, pivoted, and turned down a wide street while collapsing a wall, heading towards the glimpse of the Shali Hill, his waypoint. Directly ahead at the edge of town was a thick grove of palms, their shade dark and green. A flash. Bang. A direct hit on their frontal armor. Little damage. Hidden Panzer! Load an armor-piercing high explosive, yelled Bea. Two Mark III tanks were already waiting in the palm grove. A trap. Ready. Hes moving, yelled Gwafa. Fire! Her shot missed just behind the moving Panzer, slicing through two palms and felling them like dominoes until it exploded in the ground. Another goddammit. Takuta loaded the same type of round. Ready. Breathe steady…take aim…fire! This time Beas round hit the rear of the Mark III, slicing through its engine and igniting the fuel tank and exploding it, the back half of the hull in shambles; tank crew escaped through hatches. Bloody hell this is fun! Backing up into the grove, another Mark III fired at them from 250 meters distance, a direct hit on their front glacis resulting in a large gouge, but the German 75 mm short-barreled gun had much lower muzzle velocity and was largely ineffective against their thick armor. Still, Gwafa felt the strong hit through his steering wheel and pedals and cursed the war till his dying day. Takuta slammed one home. Ready. By Thors jackhammer, Ive got him! Ruddy beige bastard. Remembering the story of Wild Bill Hickok her father had told her, she took an extra three seconds to aim properly and fired, hitting him squarely in the shell magazine and blowing his turret and