Commander Sherman Tecumseh

By Emerson Kluge

Commander Sherman Tecumseh peered through the front periscopes of his Chariot tank hoping to see anything but the dense trees and brush that met his eyes as his vehicle moved down a strip of clear terrain between two impenetrable walls of wood. The entire area was an ambush waiting to happen; stretches of passable terrain separated by woods created ample opportunities for the enemy to lay traps. Not that it mattered much. Even if they weren’t lying in wait the brush was so thick he could be driving meters away from an enemy tank and not know it. The situation was risky and any battle could quickly turn into a hairball, but every square centimeter of the ground around field bases had to be searched. Tank lances lived on fuel and spare parts and losing a petrol truck or service bay was much worse than engaging the enemy under any circumstances.

The radio cackled faintly in Sherman’s ear as he and his crew plowed down the corridor slowing only to avoid rocks, depressions or to crawl over the occasional fallen tree. Normally the radio was set to only monitor the command channels but the stubbled and hawkeyed commander liked to listen to all the friendly chatter. It helped him gauge the situation and approximate the enemies location or movement. Hearing what the other units were saying was unimportant, he could tell the situation simply by the tone of their voice.

Through his gun-sights Sherman saw they were coming to the end of this particular stretch of ground and pressed a button on his console activating the tanks internal comm system. “Driver, slow to one-zero clicks, gunner, turret to one-two-zero degrees.”

The crew echoed the orders back to his as the turret swiveled to face down the next stretch of clear ground and the tank crawled out ready to confront any enemy.

Ordering an all-stop Sherman scanned the tree line before directing the driver to proceed. He marked the distance and heading on his map as the turret swiveled back to the forward position and the engine roared to bring them up to speed.

The view on this stretch was just as limited as the last one and the short trip to the end was just as uneventful. Commander Tecumseh again marked the direction and bearing on his map and stowed it beside his station when the radio blasted to life, this time on a full volume command channel.

“Attention all lances, heavy armour spotted south of Camp Cobalt in grid-square zero-two-five by zero-three-seven.

The enemy armour was directly north of his position. Sherman pressed the radio button and spoke “This is lance captain 109 we are in grid zero-two-five by zero-three-six are there any other units available to intercept?”

The voice came back in the normal undistinguished military tone that could have been anyone in the republic “ Negative 109 your lance is the only one in the area, move north to intercept.”

“Great, just great.” Muttered the commander after acknowledging but before switching channels to his lance’s frequency and repeating the orders as he turned his own tank and headed back up through the canyons of trees. Although they were scattered across the grid-square the lance would make a thorough sweep.

He was deeper into the wooded area than it first had seemed but upon reaching clearer terrain it took only a glance to locate his target: A single Hetzer heading straight for the service bay.

“Driver all stop, Gunner, target bearing eight-zero” Sherman spoke into the headset “Give me a shooting solution.”

The gunners voice came over the intercom, “Range is good and verified, auto-targeter’s chewing on the lead.”

Sherman grimaced as he watched the tank through his sights and listened to the relays of the targeter click rapidly behind him. The auto-targeters were useful for hitting more distant targets, particularly moving ones but this bandit was on the inner edge of its usability. It might have been quicker to go on sight and experience; the auto-targeter could turn an average gunner into a good gunner, but it couldn’t begin to compete with what a man with a range-finder could do.

He was about to take control when the targeter buzzed and the gunners voice came over the intercom “Locked.”

The turret began to track the expected path of the target while the elevation motors let off a low hum as they fine tuned the cannons angle. The tank shook with recoil as Sherman flipped the cover off the firing switch and pressed it upwards. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the tank dart as it arched toward its target before it splashed against the vehicle and penetrated to the interior. The hatches flew open from the initial blast and roared with angry flames before the intense heat detonated the Hetzers ammunition, blowing the front half of the vehicle completely off.

“A direct hit, probably to the fuel tank” Sherman thought.

Suddenly the radio blared to life once more “Lance 109 where the hell are you? Bandits still active south of base, move to intercept immediately.”

“Say again?” replied the commander thoroughly confused by the situation.

The lance radio channel crackled to life providing an answer before the base operator could “ Lance leader! Bandits to your starboard side, starboard side!”

Sherman quickly looked though his right periscope and starring back at him was a Hetzer tank. The Hetzer fired hitting the skirting on the front half of the vehicle. The metal sheets peeled away and the upper track guard bent and snapped off along with the tread..

“Aim for the turret!” Shouted Sherman to his gunner and the drive motors whined as the gun came to bear. Sherman reached for the trigger, but in the split second between when he tensed his muscles and when the switch made contact a suspension piston on the damaged side blew out. Sixty tonnes of steel dropped five centimeters as the front right corner sank, throwing the cannon off target.

Instead of hitting the turret the round ripped the Hetzers starboard track off, throwing it behind the vehicle. Both tanks were now immobilized but the advantage was still his.

A spent steel case clanked against the floor as the loader put a fresh round into the breech while the gunner realigned the Hetzer. Sherman flipped the switch and once more the gun rocked the tank, but the enemy had time to fire as well and hitting the same spot as last time. The exhaust port belched black smoke and a grinding noise came from the engine compartment just before the diesel power plant died; the tanks systems automatically switched to battery backup.

Even though the enemy tank was destroyed his own immobilized tank was simply a large sitting target; The crew would have to abandon it and wait for a pickup. Sherman slid out of his seat in the turret and twisted the handle in the middle of the rear hatch. The clamshell door smoothly opened on pressurized pistons while the crew unharnessed themselves, but as the hatch opened wider the unmistakable grinding, clunking and squeaking of another Hetzer tank greeted them.

In two steps and a jump Sherman was back in his position and checking his periscopes. The tank was directly to the left side and its gun pointed directly for the Chariot.

“Reload” Sherman yelled to the loader “Gunner, turret to one-eight-zero”

The crew scrambled to complete the orders. Another casing hit the floor and motors whined in the now mostly silent tank as the turret began a sharp turn to one-hundred-eighty degrees.

With the Chariots cannon almost on target the Hetzer fired. The skirting on the other side of the tank flew off and the lid to one of the engine compartments bulged and flipped open as the shell penetrated the side armour destroying the battery box

Sherman looked though his sights; the Chariots main gun was only a few degrees off. If they abandoned the tank now they would probably be killed by the Hetzer’s high explosive shells, but the alternative was to actuate the turret manually until it was on target. From many years of battle Sherman knew it took an average Hetzer crew fifteen seconds to reload the realign their main gun. Combat was all about taking calculated risks, and by his calculations, he still had time.

“Get out! All of you, behind the tank!” Sherman yelled reaching for the turret actuators. If the tank was hit again, anyone in the crew compartment would be killed. This risk could be taken by a single man, there was no need for the rest of the crew to be in greater danger.

The horizontal actuator folded down with a clunk and in the same motion the handle flipped open. Cranking as hard as he could he slowly watched the gun line up with the Hetzer while counting the number of seconds he had. Finally the reticle crossed onto the turret; the aim was high but there was no time to adjust the elevation. Reaching under the steel plate separating him from the loaders position he pulled the manual trigger

The dart struck just above the Hetzers main gun. A puff of smoke escaped from the view-slits as the round spewed molten metal throughout the interior. The tank jumped back slightly and then lay still with its gun still pointed at the Chariot, but it didn’t fire. It was no longer a threat.

At once there was a silence. No rumbling engines, whirring fans or pulsing motors; nothing but the sound of a light breeze in the surrounding forest drifted through the open rear hatch of the tank. It was an eerie contrast to the constant noise that surrounded Sherman a few moments before. He slid out of his seat and joined the rest of the crew behind the tank. Fighting for today was over and all there was left to do was wait for a pickup. When they did get back to base they would probably be given a few days leave and eventually even medals. The last commander he knew of who destroyed a tank in an un-powered Chariot had received the Glass-Cross.

Sherman sat down, leaning his head back against the tanks bogie-wheel and heard the rumbling of a motor in the distance, but one of his, drawn by the smoke and fire. They would be going back to base sooner than he expected. The rest and relaxation of leave he could handle, that was all part of doing a job well. The medals meant nothing to him though, the honor of performing his duty was a greater reward than any other.