Summary: The First section of Montebourg, through Fang's eyes. I leaned against the turret of Reed and Trish’s Sherman tank - that’s what she’d called it anyhow - and lit a fresh cigarette I’d bummed off Anon’s apparently endless supply of Lucky Strikes. Trish, meanwhile, sat next to me atop the tank, chilling in her commander’s hatch. I blew out a puff of smoke as Reed clambered out of the front driver’s hatch to join the two of us, and the gathered three of us took a good opportunity to just enjoy the short break on our drive northwards. We’d gone from being paratroopers with Lt. Taggart, back to being under the stone cold gaze of Captain Mckay - as Able Company of the First US Infantry Division. Plus some tanks, I guess. Hell if I knew how that organizational bullshit worked. “Yoo, Fang, how’s it hanging?” Reed greeted with a smile, before taking a swig from his water canteen. Well. Probably water. Er. Maybe water. It was Reed, so I just wasn’t gonna ask. “Yo, Reed.” I waved back with a grin of my own. “It’s good to see you, man. How long have you two been here? Trish still hasn’t given me a straight answer.” And she hadn’t, the jerk. I kept up the grin, as my best friend for the last decade or so slugged me gently in the shoulder, snickering like an elementary student. “Only ‘cause I’ve been busy giving you shit about that compensation cannon you’re dragging around.” Trish snickered, gesturing to my BAR. I just shook my head, as Reed nodded, and finally sat down next to the two of us. “We just got here I guess.” Reed shrugged. “Went to bed last night… at least, like, I think I was in my bed, bro.” He paused, mumbling, then gave the two of us a thumbs up as Trish snorted in bemusement. “And now I’m here driving a big ol’ metal box around and playing chauffeur for our compadre here. Pretty cool, honestly.” “Yeah.” I nodded. “The caveman and I have been here for a little bit already. Weird ass place, though.” I shrugged, tapping some ash off the end of my cigarette. “If one of us dies, we all sorta just revert back to an earlier point in time. Still hurts like a bitch, though.” I finished with a groan, looking out over the French countryside around us. “Yo we’re in like, a Pachystation game dude? That’s pretty dope.” “Reed, please .” Trish began, shaking her head at our raptor friend’s amusing commentary. “That’s a bit out there, even for me. A video game, really?” She looked back at me, cocking an eye as if to ask me if he was for real right now. “C’mon Fang, you’re just pulling our legs, right?” “Nah. Honestly, I think he has it pegged right on the head, too. Respawning,” I held up one claw, as I began to count off the evidence, “We got shifted around weirdly at first, going from like, a beach straight to being in an airplane, like we were bouncing around between game missions…. The fact that like, no one can tell that we’re dinosaurs - or that you’re a girl and I’m en-bee. That and a few small things just sorta stick out to me.” “Huh.” Trish blinked, then shrugged, accepting it at face value. “Well, Reed and I are here now. We have your back.” She gave me a grin and a thumbs up, prompting a smile from my beak. It felt good to have my friends here with me. Yeah, I wasn’t too excited or enthused about having them in this crap too, but hey, now that the band was back together, there wasn’t a single fucking thing that could seriously stop us. We could do this shit. “Dammit!” Captain Mckay lurched us out of our chat, as he continued swearing - loudly - and practically threw his binoculars back at his poor adjutant. “I told goddamn Dog Company not to advance out there unsupported!” The steely-eyed military man spun around from the stone wall he’d been standing beside, and stalked up to our Sherman. “Sergeant Aaron, get your ass moving down to Montebourg! Take the Shermans and a platoon of men, and go bail Captain Peters’ stupid ass out of the fire. Go .” I gave Mckay a jaunty and wordless salute, and hopped down off the tank before waving off to Trish and Reed. Checking my BAR to make sure it was loaded and ready to rock, I gave my friends one last glance as they clambered up into their Sherman. Time to put the hammer down on the Germans it seemed. Jogging over to the assembled troops of Able Company - Caveman included - I waved most of them to their feet. “Gimme twenty, we’re gonna go shoot some Nazis!” “Need help?” Anon questioned, cradling his rifle as I gave him a flat look. He must have seen the scowl flash across my face as I considered the question, as he just shook his head, and walked off towards the far end of the company’s muster point. “Fine. Nevermind.” He added as he went. I just… Whatever. I was still upset with him about how he’d shit on Wurm Drama. And Trish wasn’t too fuckin’ enthused with it herself. Reed hadn’t seemed to be fazed, but it honestly took a lot to actually piss Reed off. I’d seen that once, when he got into it with his older brother about some shit back home. Dude was usually pretty chill, but he could still give Trish a run for her money if you set him off. Anon would be fine, anyways. He could sit around base and like, be boring or some shit while we kicked ass and took names. Probably safer that way anyhow. Definitely easier for everyone. I gathered up a platoon’s worth of riflemen and crammed them into a pair of our own half tracks that had drivers and gunners ready to go. They rolled the troop carriers forwards and behind our three Shermans headed out front - one of whom was crewed by Trish and Reed. Wish I knew which one for sure, but I hadn’t had a chance to pay close attention. I could always ask them after we rescued Dog’s sorry asses. Driving fast down the main road and towards the town of Montebourg, we broke off to the right around a large manor house and enclosed courtyard on the outskirts, where Mckay had spotted Dog Company caught out by the Jerries. Apparently they hadn’t even made it into Montebourg before being ambushed, fantastic. In retrospect, it was an interesting callback to that night out on Vierville Road, when Taggart had gotten us to rescue a squad of paratroopers stuck in a farmhouse in a similar fashion to this. Neat. Our vehicles poured into the courtyard spitting bullets and tank shells in every direction held by the gathered Germans, who were now being hit from essentially all directions except north. I grinned widely, as my platoon began to unload from the halftrack. Hopping out myself and excited for once to get into the thick of things, I pulled my rifle up to shoulder level- I stopped dead as a German tank rolled around the corner, just past where Dog Company was holed up. It had a smaller gun than the Panzers we’d dealt with in Carentan - more like - oh shit, that’s a flak gun on wheels. Treads. Pain. === “Fuck!” I swore, ripping my helmet off my head and slamming it against the ground, where it bounced off with an audible thunk against the dirt and stone below me. Trish and Reed looked back at me in confusion, as we stood around the goddamned Shermans at the goddamned fucking Able Company rally point. “Fucking German piece of shit!” “Uh Fang, you were uh, like… serious ?” Reed questioned, as I steadied myself and took a deep breath. In… out… Inhale… Exhale… “Yes, Reed. That was a death reset. And yes, before you ask, getting eviscerated by a rolling flak gun hurts like a fucking bitch .” I practically screamed, snatching my damned helmet back up off the ground. Goddammit I was mad. “Yikes.” I took a deep, calming breath. Shit. I could really use a cigarette right now. I turned to ask Anon if I could bum another Lucky Strike off of him, since I still didn’t have any - but he was already walking off to sit under the shade of the stone wall in the waiting minutes before Mckay called us to go down and rescue Dog Company. Right. I tapped my claws idly against my BAR, suddenly ill at ease. Whatever. I’d just do without. I turned back to Trish and Reed. “You’ll get used to it.” I sighed, as they gave me looks of concern. I waved it off, fighting and failing to replace my sullen frown with a smirk. “It’s fuckin’ jarring, yeah, but it gets more annoying more than anything - you should have seen us on that stupid beach, we blew up so many times . Trish went to comment on that, but Mckay called us forwards to go rescue Dipshit Company again. Gritting my teeth, I waved off Trish and Reed and went to round up a platoon again. Off we went back to the damned square. Once we arrived, the vehicles pulled once more to a halt as the machine guns began to spray down the German infantry, and we ground pounders began to spill out the back. This time, I narrowly dodged the shithead kraut tank that chewed through half the platoon in a matter of seconds, by hooking the opposite direction around the back of the half track instead of out the front. The combined Shermans made quick work of the apparently lightly armored panzer, and the fight continued as we systematically began to wipe out the rest of the Germans in the manor square. Trish popped her head out of the command hatch to say something to me whilst the fight was still going on - probably about that German tank by the way she was pointing. I blinked and moved in her direction, snout opening to warn her to stay the fuck inside the big metal safety box - and watched my best friend take a rifle round straight through her brainpan. Yeah. I could have gone without seeing that . === “Fang! What the hell was that?” Trish barked, clearly still in shock herself. I rolled my eyes, then whistled the caveman over before he could stalk off. It was gonna be one of those days I could already tell. He frowned in my direction, looking past me - at Trish - then back to me. I nodded, and over he came. Slowly. “That is why we need to probably slow down a bit and be more careful.” I said, not airing my frustration. Trish was new at this, a more patient hand was called for. “Stay in the nice and safe metal box until after the gunfire stops, Trish.” I griped, as Anon finished trudging over to us. “Need something?” “Cigarettes, if you have ‘em still.” I grunted, as he snorted and began fishing around in his pockets. “And some help, probably. That’s wipe number two in that stupid ass square bailing out ding-dong Company.” “Fun times.” He hummed, tossing me the whole pack of smokes. I snatched one out with a nod, and lit it with a match. He shook his head at me when I went to return the pack, so I just shoved them in a pocket of my own. Guess he wasn’t too big into cigarettes. “So what’s up there?” He finally asked, after our exchange. Trish just crossed her arms into a grumpy pout, as I provided details. “There’s a couple of German squads, armed with rifles and machine guns. Once we get there and start engaging them, a kraut tank with a flak gun up top rolls around the corner and tries to skullfuck us. Happened twice, I’m betting it’ll happen a third time.” “Sounds like great fun, yeah.” Anon frowned, as I sucked on my cigarette to finish calming down. I was still definitely pissy, and I needed to calm down completely before we got into another gunfight. Just - stay cool, Fang. It’s all good. We’re cool. Chill. “Yeah. Fun. I just watched Trish get a Jerry haircut, I’d rather not see that again.” Anon nodded, then blinked, momentarily confused. “Wait, isn’t she like, in the tank?” Score one for the genius caveman, I felt validated in my own complaints. Thank you, Anon. “Yeah. We’ve been over that.” Reed chuckled, dryly. “Lesson learned, and all that stuff.” Anon shrugged. “Not much I can do against a tank, and my rifle’s a bit slow compared to the Garands and BARs all the infantry guys are carrying. I could add to that I guess, but you ran out of here packed pretty full already. I’d probably be taking away from your firepower rather than adding to it.” “Psh. So what can you actually do then, skinnie?” Trish jeered, clearly still in a mood from being shot in the face. Anon… yeah, he was offended by that. Clear as day on his face, and probably similar to how I’d looked when he’d said he laughed at Wurm Drama. Ugh. Great. “I can avoid getting shot in the head because I was retarded enough to leave the safety of my metal box.” Anon shot back, as Trish flicked her angry scowl directly at Anon. Hoo boy, I knew that growl. That was the ‘I am going to gore you on all three of my horns’ Trish growl. “Fuck off.” She replied, showing actual restraint. Thank fuck, that’d have been a stupid ass respawn wipe. He met her glare. Reed and I shared a nervous glance, as it felt like the air between Trish and Anon could catch fire at any moment from the sheer spite between those stares. Ah shit, we were going to have to intervene if - “Sure. sounds good to me. Have fun , fuckin’ assholes.” And without a look back, Anon shoved his hands back in his pockets and stalked back off towards the rally point. For fucks sake I was trying to think this shit through with some help, uggggghhhhhhhhh. “Was that necessary?” I hissed at Trish with a glare, as Reed sighed and just… clambered up into the Sherman. “Yeah.” Trish retorted, as Mckay waved us forwards to rescue Dog, again. “He’s just in the way, Fang. His little peashooter isn’t gonna do shit with us up there, duh. We saw what we did wrong, and we’ve got it handled.” “Mhn.” I hummed, noncommittally. That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but… I really just did not fucking feel like arguing with Trish. I just got her and Reed back… “Alright, let’s get going to bail Dog out, before Mckay has like, an aneurysm or something.” “Hell yeah.” Trish threw me a pair of metalhead signs with her fingers, then shut herself into her Sherman as I jogged off to round up some infantry. I let out the sigh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. What a mess, and we’ve barely fucking started. God. Here we go again, yay. I rounded up a platoon of dudes, and wedged us all into a halftrack as Anon watched from across the stone wall, a deliberate frown on his face. I… ignored it, for the time being. We could talk later, after everyone calmed the hell down. Once more, we pushed into the manor house and its enclosed square. I dodged the panzer, Reed and Trish blew it the fuck up, and this time we successfully saved Dipshit Company without anyone dying horribly. Excellent. We rounded up the surviving members of Dog Company as well as our own casualties and theirs, and began packing people into the halftracks and on the backs of the Shermans to get the hell out of here before more Germans wandered over. Captain Peters hadn’t made it apparently, so Taggart - funny how even though he was with the infantry now, he was still in Dog Company - took temporary command of the survivors, and helped us direct folks to get the heck out of dodge. Feeling pretty accomplished, we brought them back to the rally point, where the Company was busy converting an old farmhouse into a proper field headquarters. The engineers were running all over the place, setting up sandbags, MG positions - a supply dump - that sort of junk. Mckay waved us down - Anon trailing listlessly behind him - as we ditched our vehicles at the storage yard. Heading over in his direction as more and more NCOs began to gather up, I realized it was briefing time. Cool, not a complaint or something, then. “Alright folks, we’ve got a lot of work to do today ahead of us.” He began, as he used a bundle of fuel barrels to spread out an area map for everyone to look over. “We’re starting to fall behind the main spearhead coming off of Utah Beach, so today we get to play catchup. We’ll be advancing up the main roadway - here, Route N13- towards the port city of Cherbourg. Our job here is gonna be simple: we’re going to secure the town ahead of us - Montebourg - and it's section of Route N13 that the krauts still hold onto. Once that’s secure, our supply convoy - The Red Ball Express - is going to be flying up behind us so that the boys off Utah can get a proper resupply. That means once you’ve got the road captured, we’re going to have to defend the Express until they can finish rolling through Montebourg.” Mckay paused, looking about the gathered NCOs before continuing on - making sure we were all on the same page, I guess. “That means spreading Able Company out to both the left and right of the road, because you can bet your ass that the krauts are gonna be trying to ambush in force. We don’t know how big of a unit Jerry has in front of us, but based on what we’ve already seen, we can expect infantry and armor - and probably fairly well dug in AT guns sited down the road. Any questions so far?” We all looked around, then collectively shook our heads. Nothing yet. Mckay was pretty good about making sure we had all the info we needed, even if he was a bit of a scary motherfucker. “Okay.” He began again, nodding firmly. “Sergeant Jones-” That was Trish; Patricia Jones, “-I want your armored squadron up front on the spearhead, clearing through to Montebourg. Sergeant Aaron’s platoon will be forward deployed to assist, whilst Sergeant Dixon and Sergeant Foley’s platoons focus on the left and right flanks, respectively.” He looked over to Anon. “Sergeant Mous, float around with your rifle where you’re going to be most effective. There aren't a lot of tall places to set up shop in, but I’ll make sure you have a radio set before you head out to conduct recon. “Sir.” Anon nodded, quietly, tapping a finger against his Springfield rifle. Mckay returned his nod, and dismissed the Caveman, before turning back to the rest of us. “Okay folks. Let’s get this done. There’s no telling when the express is gonna show up, and the faster we get Montebourg secure the faster we can get a port captured. Hop to it, infantry. Dismissed.” The company began to disperse, as I followed Reed and Trish back to their Shermans. The two of them were poking at each other about Trish’s new rank as a Sergeant, which, good for her, but I couldn’t help but feel a gnawing, sinking feeling in my gut as something stood out to my thoughts. Anon and I had fought like hell to defend Carentan, and hadn’t taken a single reset wipe during the whole thing. Trish and Reed were here now, and things should be easier. Yet, we’d already reset twice. And we hadn’t even reached Montebourg proper. For all of Mckay’s collected confidence, and Trish and Reed’s cheerful demeanors, I couldn’t help but feel the dread start pooling inside of me. This was going to hurt. …This was going to hurt a lot . [NOTES] Buckle up, folks. Montebourg is definitely the game's... not so much difficulty curve as much as a difficulty cliff. This will probably end up being three, maybe four parts, I haven't decided yet. The poor dweebs have no idea what they're in for.