148 | John W. Warner IV Henshel can then stick one up their trumpets with my comp Bea rose to attention and snapped like a parched bird bone, her adrenaline a fire hose. Theyre not Henshel Tigers, theyre Porsche Tigers! Panzer VK 45.01P to be exact. Air-cooled petrol engines and generators times two. Siemens electric motors coupled to the rear sprockets. 102 mm frontal armor of high-quality hardened steel. Flak 88 main gun, you know the one, the goddam fiat-trajectory tin-opener of the desert, devastating firepower. How they snuck them in past our spies I know not, but they did by Allahs swollen arse, and probably did it in sections by night in tarp-covered crates conveniently marked Tinned WienerschnitzeR Alter a thorough dekko of the town, we stole a clever pornographic comic-style illustrated manual via indigenous child commandos, and my men and I trained ourselves to a fine pitch in a cave at the quick with candles. After some horse-trading with nomad Tuaregs that took a decent fancy to me, we then miraculously commandeered one of the buggers dressed in Arab robes with the greatest of luck, gunplay, lioness distraction, and grenade-pitchingthe Tiger 101, our Tiger, the one that saved our skins. For fucks sake the good Doctor signed the inside of the turret with the other engineers as a salute to the tankers. I know him intimately, a mad genius and sturdy ass of a mannone of you do, thats for damn sure. With a spot of heave-ho and a handful of tungsten-core shells we miraculously disabled one of the Tigers up close, the 102, in what must be known by now back in Siwa as the Great Mosque Mammoth Match. She turned to face Churchill, knowing his passion for the American Civil War. It was akin to the ironclad Battle of Hampton Roads in 1862, the U.S.S. Monitor versus the damn C.S.S. Virginia, just as you taught me years ago, two great smoking iron beasts at each others throats ramming and scraping hulls at point blank range. After escaping that battle by the skin of our teeth, we then destroyed several other sub-par enemy tanks and antitank guns before being shot to pieces by our only genuine adversary, the third Tiger lurking in the palms, the number.. .one… oh…three. The big Panzers can take monstrous punishment by anything thrown at them, like nothing weve ever seen, lesser shells bounced off like a childs cricket ball to an iron letterbox. We had a few victories before mechanical failure set in, and then were hit by 88 shells. The three of us then abandoned the tank before getting captured. Good luck attacking them at Siwa by air with aircraft like Mosquitos or the new Typhoons soon to arrive, youd end up killing half the town in the process if