Lion, Tiger, Bear | 121 trees bent. A myriad of palm species and plants hid them well. He then climbed out halfway and cleaned his vision block of flowers and sundry greenery. Baise la guerre A long way to come to die in such beauty… Bea grabbed the binoculars and stood on the edge of the cupola. She scanned the forest carefully, looking for any signs of tank or troop movement. The Tiger hummed at idle, all twenty cylinders purring away; steam rising. She bent down and clicked the mic. Gwafa, hows our fuel? Bow. Three-quarters full. The left deck at the right corner is shot up some. Overheating? Hot, madame, but fine. Electrical bits nbobs? He read both voltage meters. Normal. Nothing but dark green shade, patches of light, and palm fronds filled her view; it was surreal, beautiful, menacing. Takuta, armor-piercing, please. Lets ambush them for a change. Ready, mum. Bea panned. Whoopsy-daisy, I see palms swaying, troops. Here they come! She closed the hatch, hopped down, and pressed eyes to the gunsight. The lead tank, another Mark II, followed her trail and stopped at the ponds edge, confused. Behind him were two smaller FLAT tanks and some troops fanned out. The noise of their own engines kept them unaware ofTiger 101. Let me have a go, mum, please, asked Takuta. Fine by me. Reticle on target, he squeezed the trigger. Fire! Palms were sliced in half, falling this way or that as his shot peeled open the side of the Mark II, setting the fuel tank on fire after the round had passed through the engine. Nice one. Switching stations, Bea added: Were really getting the hang of this, chaps. She then put another round in its turret. Flaming gasoline covered the Mark II and fouled the pond. The two Italian tanks pivoted and fired, their small rounds bouncing off 101. Thin Italian armor. High-explosive round. Bea put one into the rearwards tank, blowing it to bits in a fireball, its ammunition magazine igniting like a pile of fireworks spitting sparks. Frag. Ready.