Tank: The Broken Sickle

By Christopher Blankley

he crew of Seventy-Seven should be basking in glory, back at Command. They achieved the impossible: Victory. An indomitable phalanx of Soviet armor had thundered down from the mountains and broke against Gunny and the tanks of Fate Troop. They should be celebrating, but they’re up to their elbows in grease and muck. A stray bullet through the radiator has knocked their tank out of commission. They’re helpless, stranded in the lazy town of Brigham Field, as the Reds escape back across the mountains.
They're thinking the War is over for them.
But a sniper in a clock tower is a unkind reminder that it's not.
The War has followed them to Brigham Field.
TANK: The Broken Sickle is the second installment in the exciting action/adventure series TANK. Follow Gunny and the crew of number Seventy-Seven as they battle the Soviets in an alternate Twenty-First Century.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Blankley
• Release date: Dec 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310759260

Christopher Blankley

Seattle is my home and the backdrop of many of my books. I am not a detective, or a zombie, or living in an alternate version of the 21st Century, so my life and my books pretty much just overlap with the Seattle thing. If you like detectives, zombies, alternate histories, even Seattle, you might like my books. I do. I like you. There, I said it. I’ve written over a dozen books, including the aforementioned ones about detectives and zombies and alternate histories. Did I mention Seattle? Seattle's in some of them, too.

Book preview

TANK

by Christopher Blankley

Copyright © 2015 by Christopher Blankley

Smashwords Edition 

other books by Christopher Blankley:

The Cordwainer

The Bobbies of Bailiwick

The Bobbies of Bailiwick and the Captive Ocean

The Raft

That Nietzsche Thing

STEM

email the author at: [e-mail]

TANK

PART 2

The Broken Sickle

Chapter 1

Gunny and Iskra sat on number Seventy-Seven’s turret, playing cat’s-cradle with a yard of Gunny’s spare linkage cable. Morgans worked below, thumping and cursing inside the tank’s engine. Intermittently, damaged parts came flying out. They clattered to the asphalt main street of the town of Brigham Field, discarded.

Tentatively, while Morgans worked, the town’s auto mechanic had wandered over. Curiosity had inevitably trumped the man’s reasonable suspicion of the armored vehicle and its strange crew. He slowly meandered over and paused to watch. Leaning against the armored chassis of the M60 Patton tank, he was now occasionally offering up technical suggestions.

Lieutenant Heidegger sat inside the tank, speaking into his STRATCOM radio, with the hatch closed. Across the street, in front of the General Store, a welcoming committee of the local townsfolk was slowly beginning to form. Some carried hunting rifles, others rusty-looking shotguns, but they all looked decidedly uninterested in any kind of fight. They eyed the tank, and its crew suspiciously, careful not to leave the protective cover of the General Store’s front awning.

How’s it look? the Lieutenant asked, popping open the hatch and climbing up. Gunny didn’t answer. Instead, she looked over the edge of the turret and down at the engine.

Morgans’ head popped around the armored cowling. Radiators are both shot through, he yelled up. Both water and oil. That was the smoke – oil and water just pouring out onto the block and frying on the exhaust manifold. But everything else looks good, fuel lines are intact, and the plugs look solid.

Then you can fix it? Heidegger jumped down to the street.

Sure, Morgans shrugged. Radiators are all stock, General Motors parts and... Morgans pointed at the mechanic, leaning against the tank. Morgans was blanking on the man’s name.

Al, the mechanic answered.

...and Al here says there’s a five-ton around back of his place we can tear apart. Trade them out, top up the fluids and we should be back in the War.

Good. Heidegger nodded his approval. Battalion HQ is setup at the railhead in Limon. They’ve got their hands full hauling casualties off the ridge, so there won’t be a spare truck to come pick us up for at least a day. If we can roll back to HQ under our own steam; we’ll save everyone a lot of trouble. Heidegger noticed the gathering mob across the street and returned their suspicious glare. What’s going on here?

Don’t know, Morgans answered. Just started to show up about five minutes ago. Don’t look so friendly...

Friends of yours? the Lieutenant asked Al.

Sure. Don’t pay them no mind, Al answered. They’re just worried you brought the war to town with you. He paused and considered. Hey, you didn’t, did you?

No, don’t worry, Heidegger dismissed. I’ll talk to them. Calm some nerves. How long? He nodded at the engine.

Oh... Al took off his ball cap and scratched his scalp. Three, four hours, if we can get at the bolts...

Give us ‘til dark, and we’ll be out of here, Morgans added. Al nodded.

Okay, that’s something I can tell them. Heidegger started away. But before he could take two steps, Morgans caught him by the elbow.

What’s the word? Morgans asked. You know... he nodded his head at the mountains.

Just as we thought, Heidegger replied in a low voice. Reds are heading back to Denver, their tails between their legs. It’s over for now, until we can bring up the First Armored. Then we can start thinking about moving on Denver.

Then...we beat ‘em? Morgans smiled.

"We beat ‘em bad," Heidegger patted Morgans’ hand. Morgans let go of the Lieutenant’s arm.

Al, the mechanic, let out a cheerful laugh. Well, heck, he said.

Yeah, Morgans looked back at the engine. Heck, indeed.

Heidegger stepped across the street. Up on the tank, Iskra held the cat’s-cradle strung between her fingers. Gunny watched as the Lieutenant walked up to the General Store and held out a hand to one of the armed locals. The man tentatively shook the Lieutenant’s hand and the two began to converse.

Heidegger pointed off at the mountains and then waved at them to denote distance. The battle had been far away and was over and done with, Gunny imagined the Lieutenant saying. The Reds were on the retreat, and once the engine was fixed, Seventy-Seven would be gone too.

At least, that was what Gunny hoped he was saying. She couldn’t hear the conversation. Brigham Field looked like a nice little town, but Gunny hoped she wouldn’t have to spend one more minute there longer than was needed. She wanted to put Brigham Field and the War as far behind her as she could. Gunny was bone-tired and numb from the neck up. She couldn’t imagine ever feeling normal again.

Without warning or reason, the bark of a machine gun broke the silence.

The rat-a-tat of the weapon echoed the length of the street, as high-pitched squeals of ricochets rose from the steel hull of Seventy-Seven. Gunny rolled back and dropped through the opened hatch of the turret. Iskra slid down the far side of the tank. Below, Private Morgans vanished completely into the engine compartment, like a squirrel scrambling into the knot of a tree trunk.

Across the street, the Lieutenant found cover behind a parked car. He drew his weapon and fired blindly down the street. The gathered townsfolk raised their rifles and searched for the source of the gunfire. They could see nothing, but they fired at anything that looked like a target. There was a great amount of yelling and screaming.

And all the while, the rat-a-tat of the machine gun.

Only Al the mechanic failed to react, standing dumbfounded in the open. Inevitably, something hit him hard in the chest, and he stumbled behind the tank, falling to his knees.

Inside the tank, Gunny pulled her pistol from its holster and climbed back up to the open commander’s hatch. She peeked out, looking for the source of the gunfire, but could see very little. The shooting stopped. She pushed her head out still more, and the shooting began again, thumping into the turret. There, she could see it – the muzzle flash of the machine gun – from the clock tower of the church.

Gunny dropped back inside the tank and let the shooter empty the last of his magazine.

Reviews for Tank

[Andy Hughes · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

losing some of the diesel punk feel of the first book and going for a Weird War kind of direction. I am still enjoying it though.