In the end, Captain Ahrens was only able to borrow around ten tanks. The tankers operating them formed a slapdash unit consisting not only of the men under his command, but also a collection of hastily mobilized repair yard engineers.
Although, seeing as they had managed to deploy ten whole tanks without prior warning, it was a decent enough reserve force, all things considered. The dropping Federation airborne infantry were going to be in for a big surprise when they saw the kind of armor that was waiting for them. It would take at least a light AT gun—maybe something close in power to an anti-tank rifle—to pierce through the tanks. This would be enough to force the Federation troops to take a defensive posture and pull out their anti-tank grenades in an attempt to keep them at bay.
However, the Federation force had the power to maintain their defensive posture. Even worse, there was still a possibility of Federation reinforcements showing up.
“There goes tank number four…! Seven, too!”
“Fuck,” spat out Captain Ahrens, pulling his tank back into cover. They could try to provide relief, but the enemy had already gained fire superiority.
“Is that an AT gun? That’s an AT gun, isn’t it?! Where does an airborne unit get off lugging in AT guns…?!”
“Captain, that’s one of our guns!”
“What did you just say?!”
This news, received over the radio from one of his men, left Captain Ahrens unexpectedly dumbfounded. Without thinking, he thrust himself out of his hatch and turned his binoculars in the direction of the dreaded AT gun.
Well, isn’t this a fine kick in the pants.
“Those idiots at command let their guns get captured?!”
Screaming curses, the tank commander did the only thing he could: he urged his men to hull down.
“Shit, and we’re sitting here with junk for armor!”
Restored tanks left plenty to be desired. No matter how much effort you put into reinforcing a restored tank’s armor, it would never be quite good enough. Restored tanks were hopeless against AT guns. Softened armor, for example, was no match for an imperial-made tungsten core round.
To make matters worse, the maneuvering carried out by these Federation troops was practiced enough to give even Captain Ahrens a shiver. Relying on the AT gun for suppression, the Federation’s airborne infantry were nimbly and steadily closing in, hunting their tanks.
“We can’t let them get close. Don’t we have any cover?!” murmured Captain Ahrens to himself. Without support from friendly infantry, his tanks were just massive targets.
Captain Ahrens was just beginning to think this looked like the end when he received a report from one of the tank commanders positioned behind him that nearly made his eyes bug out of his head.
“New enemies sighted! A truck is approaching!”
What? Captain Ahrens barely processed what he heard before turning around and parroting his subordinate’s words. “A truck?!”
Ahrens turned to look. There was, in fact, a cluster of cargo trucks visible in the distance, ambling forward slowly, almost at walking pace. But they were definitely approaching. His brain immediately began to picture the worst. First an airborne unit, and now ground troops?!
Of course, Ahrens had known, in the back of his mind, that more enemy troops could be coming. But the arrival of enemy reinforcements at that exact moment was so terrifying that even the bold and courageous Captain Ahrens could do nothing more than gulp and clench his fist to keep from swearing. “It’s too soon!” he would have shouted. “Where did these bastards even come from?!”
Just as Captain Ahrens—determined to dig his heels in until the last—was deciding it was better to get the jump and shell them first, the rug was suddenly swept out from under him. But in the best way possible.
“Th…they’re friendlies!” shouted the soldier who had informed Captain Ahrens of the presence of the trucks, his voice practically bursting with joy. The soldier stared through his binoculars as he repeated, “They’re friendlies! It’s reinforcements!”
“What?”
Captain Ahrens began to question the man’s sanity. Maybe he had cracked from the strain of battle. Poor fellow, so delicate… Just to be safe, however, Captain Ahrens pointed his own binoculars toward the approaching gaggle of trucks once more.
He was right. They might not have been in the best shape, but upon closer inspection, he could confirm they were genuine imperial-made trucks. Of course, everyone used what they could as long as they could. Both sides had captured and lost plenty of equipment along the way. It would have been delusional to assume these were friendly forces based solely on the make of the trucks. In fact, enemies disguised as allies were the biggest threat of all… Just then, his eyes alighted on a person atop one of the combat trucks, waving a gun.
“Is that…Lieutenant Tospan?! Then that must be…the main unit!!”
“Yes, sir,” said the subordinate over the radio, in ecstatic agreement with Captain Ahrens.
“They’re allies! It’s the Salamander Kampfgruppe!”
The moment Captain Ahrens understood that the approaching trucks were packed full of friendly infantry, he roared with joy, waving his cap at First Lieutenant Tospan. What a beautiful world, after all!
“I could kiss him right now!”
More than kiss, even.
There was no sight more blissful than relief troops boldly galloping to rescue, all the more so when that rescue came in the shape of old friends.
“Captain Ahrens?! What are you doing here?!”
“I saw the fireworks starting. You can’t expect a tanker to sit around and take a nap at a time like this! No, tankers rush in toward the sound of gunfire! If there’s one thing that’s always true, you know it is that!” replied the tanker in high spirits, grinning from ear to ear.
He hadn’t forgotten the predicament they were in, however. Despite his joy at the reunion, he quickly filled First Lieutenant Tospan in on the situation.
“Command is still putting up a resistance. As far as I can tell, they haven’t fallen yet. However, the airborne enemy has the advantage in numbers. The infantry they dropped in were initially light on firepower, but they’ve upped their threat thanks to artillery they seem to have captured from our side… At this rate, things look dicey,” he briefed Tospan quickly before the first lieutenant could even ask a question.
As it turned out, First Lieutenant Tospan and his men were the spearhead of a relief force led by Captain Meybert, dispatched on Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff’s orders to support command.
“It’s time to get to work, then. Now that we’ve got the infantry and tanks back together, this should be familiar ground. Let’s do it like we always do,” said Ahrens, clapping Tospan on the shoulder encouragingly and flashing a knowing look. For better or worse, as far as instruments of violence went, their Kampfgruppe was perfection.
They continued to fire off their cannons, using the tanks to apply slow, steady pressure. Whenever the enemy—who lacked their own armor—attempted to engage them in close combat, Tospan’s infantry used suppressing fire to drive them back, steadily securing a foothold.
When it came to textbook tank assaults, Captain Ahrens and First Lieutenant Tospan knew their respective roles down to a T. Their experience, acquired through blood and sweat, was obvious in their actions. They operated like a well-oiled machine in the cauldron of battle. As a result, by the time Captain Meybert and the guns he had dragged with him arrived to join the fight, the groundwork needed for the tanks, infantry, and artillery arms to fulfill their roles was already set.
However, they were still desperately short on men. Hence, Captain Ahrens’s hopeful question about the possibility of relief troops.
“Captain Meybert, what’s the situation with reinforcements?”
“There aren’t many friendly units in the area.”
“Can’t they redeploy any? Not even to come to command’s aid?” asked Captain Ahrens.
Captain Meybert shook his head.
“There wasn’t much of a reserve to begin with. In fact, it’s possible the Salamander Kampfgruppe was the strongest relief force available at the moment.”
“Aren’t there strategic reserves kept exactly for situations like this? Where are they?”
“They exist only on paper,” said Captain Meybert, his voice strained.