Chapter Text
It was just like any other day at a military base near the coast of California; tanks were practicing their shots, soldiers were performing drills, and other commodities were performed. This base was named Fort McBenning, after an important General, and it held a unique collection of old tanks from the Second World War, with some being from the Cold War as well. While they’re initially treated as relics, they often come out and practice their shots, making them feel more lively than being stuck in a museum. They’re also sentient machines; no one knows how they became this way, nor why they were that way, but they’re valuable in having better connections with their crews and the staff—especially when sorting out problems with themselves.
All of these proud machines were owned by General George McDouglas, an old man in his sixties who acquired the collection from his father. He was a respectable, caring, but tough general who knows how to speak to tanks. He saw them as the ideal soldiers for his army: strong, brave, courageous, cooperative, and eager to follow orders. Although, not all of the tanks fit the quota. Regardless, he loved them like they were family and would do anything to ensure they stayed preserved for generations.
However, a letter came to the base that would change everything forever, for a global event was about to strike, even one greater than the war that only concluded just over a year ago. It was directed towards McDouglas himself, which wasn’t unusual but this was from an important general across the pond. Everyone had gathered around him once its origins had been informed; they were all curious as to what it had to say.
Dear General McDouglas,
I’m afraid I have grave news to address about what is happening within the Russian Republic. There are rumors about an army from another world planning to invade Earth. Our intelligence has yet to confirm the validity of these rumors, but they have nonetheless concerned us. What’s worse is that they are planning to use our Titan population as soldiers against all of humanity; I fear that if they’re used as such, they’ll bring further destruction onto the world, destroying any relations we had with them for the last 3,000 years. Your forces need to come here by Thursday. That includes your old but reliable and valuable collection. They need everything they've got to fight this massive army. I urge you and your army to keep calm while everything is being verified. On a lighter note, I can’t wait to see you again after so long; I hope we’ll have plenty to catch up on!
Yours truly,
General Cromwell
The old general stared at the letter with shock and confusion in his eyes. He didn’t know what to think. This seemed to be the first time he’s called the role of his old tanks to question: Should he do it or not?
“What’s the matter, General?” one of his old tanks asked. McDouglas didn’t answer as he kept staring at the letter looking more uneasy; he was soon snapped out of it when Second Lieutenant Samuel J. Dawson asked him if he was alright. The old General looked around the soldiers, officers, and tanks staring at him with concern before looking back at Dawson.
“I need a private word with you and the other officers in my quarters, Lieutenant Dawson,” McDouglas finally said to Dawson quietly. Dawson nodded and gathered all of the other officers up to the HQ. They all sat down before McDouglas let out a long sigh.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “we’ll be heading off to a meeting with General Cromwell in Britain. He has urged us to mobilize quickly because a new threat has been detected.”
The officers were surprised. “Who or what is the threat?” asked one of them.
“It couldn’t be the New China is it?” commented another.
“Surely it’s a terrorist group in Africa!” interjected a third.
“It’s none of them,” McDouglas said calmly, “it’s an extraterrestrial one.”
The officers were stunned. Had a real alien invasion started to come true? Some doubted the claim, but the General assured them that the international intelligence community had yet to verify it. He then said he’d carry out orders to mobilize his force immediately, but that left one question: Should he also bring out his old tanks along with his modern ones? He placed it in the back of his mind as the meeting concluded on a high note.
He and the officers returned as a chorus of concerns echoed around the base; everyone was now wondering what was going on with the Old General acting all uneasy. He soon cleared his throat. “Soldiers,” he began solemnly, “we are bound to go on the biggest mission of our lives. We are heading to Britain to meet an old friend of mine to address the possibility of an invasion from another world. We must move by Thursday, so we mustn’t waste any time to pack up what we need, understood?”
“Yes, General!” they all answered, and without hesitation they began to mobilize. In addition to his soldiers and modern equipment, he decided to bring his old collection with him—all 45 tanks that he and his father had collected over the years. He smiled confidently to himself as this will be the first time in many years that the sounds and sight of total mobilization was in full swing. He turned on his heel to report the situation to the DoD but was stopped by a small but noticeable tap on his boot. He looked down to see a tiny 3-inch-tall woman in her uniform.
The woman is named Angelica, one of many little people who had joined the military in the past century. She’s also known as a borrower—who are infamous for their abilities to hide in the walls of a home and take whatever they need for their survival, usually small items that regular people tend to misplace or lose. She’s average build with short brown hair, dark green eyes, and a small birthmark on her right cheekbone that vaguely resembled an Ace of Spades; a sign that her parents say is a symbol for courage and kinship. Despite this, she is known to have a shy side, especially when she meets someone she doesn’t recognize yet always maintains politeness to all she meets throughout her life.
“Ah, Private Ottoman,” McDouglas greeted with a smile, “what brings you up and about?” He crouched down on one knee to get a better look at her.
Angelica smiled nervously and saluted, “G-General sir, I request that I join you along with my brothers and sisters-in-arms!”
The General’s smile slowly faltered as he wanted to say yes but didn’t due to the unfortunate reality of what would happen if she and her comrades did. “I’ll do anything for the unit, sir!” she continued proudly, still saluting.
McDouglas then sighed as he finally decided to tell the truth, “Private Ottoman, I’m afraid I can’t let you or your friends join this mission.”
Her salute slowly lowered as a look of disappointment filled her. “General…”
“I can’t risk you being on this critical mission; it’s too dangerous for someone like you, there’s no easier way to say it,” he explained.
“But General, I’ve proven myself time and time again that I’m a valuable soldier to this country! I even won the Medal of Honor for rescuing families in Pyongyang!” She hated to be treated like she was fragile and too small for anything.
“I know but I simply can’t repeat another disaster that results in us looking bad for your kind, especially with what happened in Afghanistan and Iraq,” he said gravely. It was an unfortunate truth that many of Angelica’s people (Minimans or Tinies as they’re often called) were furious with the military—and the government as a whole—after several bad decisions that resulted in the deaths of hundreds of tiny soldiers. So much so that there were further restrictions on standards for a Miniman to join, but it hasn’t stopped some from going through rigorous training to get to where they are.
Angelica looked down in defeat, she was about to accept it with humbleness when he continued. “However, I will inform your sergeant about your request and we’ll see if that possibility could be arranged once I inform Washington about it.”
Angelica looked back up as her eyes started to light up. “You mean it, General?”
“I do. Until then, your unit is to remain here until further notice.”
Angelica was most excited as she watched McDouglas turn on his heel and walk off to do what he was set to do. She ran in the opposite direction towards where her comrades were to tell them the news.
✥✥✥
Meanwhile, the General’s old tanks witnessed the base producing much more activity than it had been. Soldiers and staff were scrambling and bustling like bees in a hive.
“Huh. I wonder what’s going on this time,” commented one of the tanks. That tank in question being an M5A1 Stuart named Stuart.
“Probably an exercise trill in case of an attack,” replied Klaus, a Pz. III/IV Ausf. B. “Had zhat happen a few times vhen China vas still our enemy.”
“Yeah, no kiddin’, hadn’t seen mobilization like this since D-Day,” added Stewie, an M3A1 Stuart.
“Regardless,” interjected an M10A1 Wolverine named Walter, “if this is no exercise, then something serious must be going on and we’ll have to wait for orders.”
“You think we’ll be picked?” asked Stuart hopefully to the de facto leader of the gang.
“Doubt it,” snorted a small AMX ELC bis named Allese. “It’s all the same to us. They go, we don’t get picked. It’s been this way ever since he put us here.”
“Maybe things will be different,” responded Jackson the M36 Jackson.
“How?” quizzed Allese. “It’s not like he’s going to take us out for a trip, right?”
“Where to?” scoffed Hunter the M18 Hellcat, “Mexico? No thanks! I don’t wanna get drugged and killed by the local cartel. Makes me glad Trump did do something about it prior.”
Everyone rolled their eyes at his not-so-subtle politics. Even if everyone did agree with what he said, how he said it made them not want to engage.
Just then, Lieutenant Dawson would arrive in front of them to spread the news. “Good news you guys,” he said excitedly, “our General has decided to bring you on a special trip to Britain!”
The tanks could hardly believe it; their chance had finally come! Dawson would tell them the reason why they’re heading to Britain, which delighted them more.
“Hell yeah! Now we’re talking!” cried Stewie excitedly.
“Ve finally have a chance to stretch our tracks,” added Klaus.
Dawson then instructed the tanks to get to their hangers to be readied up. They all wasted no time, ordering their crews to look spick and span for the visit. Not all of them were happy, some looked very worried. “I don’t know if we should do this…” quivered one Japanese tank, an O-Ni named Sakura. “What if we don’t make it back?”
“Relax!” Stuart said casually. “I’m sure we’ll be okay, just a walk in the park like it was when I was in France.” It should be noted that not all of them had ever seen actual combat before, and for some, this would be their very first time. As a result, the ones that hadn’t were very jealous of the ones that did see combat. Regardless, deep down, all of them were very nervous about the trip and what could this mean for them.
Several C-5 Galaxy transport planes were ready to meet them at the base to load the tanks up and fly over to Britain; they had been sent from a nearby Air Force base who also agreed to send supplies if the journey goes awry.
✤✤✤
Meanwhile, McDouglas was in his office making final adjustments when Dawson knocked on his door. Upon being let in, Dawson explained what had happened; McDouglas smiled proudly. “Excellent!” he said. “The Pentagon has our full permission to carry out our operation, though they were surprised to hear about my collection being brought along.”
“I mean, it’s not an everyday occurrence to hear about a museum’s worth being brought along with your men, General,” quipped Dawson.
“Indeed not,” McDouglas chuckled. He then leaned back in his chair and sighed. “If only my father were here…” He then looked at a picture portrait of his father on his desk, it was of him in his uniform taken right around the peak of the Vietnam War; he appeared serious yet confident, a type where his son hoped to be. McDouglas participated in three wars: the Gulf War, the Afghanistan War, and the Iraq War, which led him to become where he is thanks to his great leadership skills and some of the tactics he used in battle. However, he always felt like he’ll never reach up to his father’s level of greatness and respect; perhaps this mission will let him get that chance.
“Sir?” Dawson asked. McDouglas looked up at him snapping out of his thoughts. “Ah, my apologies,” McDouglas said, “just…thinking about the old times.”
“What are your orders, General?” Dawson asked again.
McDouglas licked his lips before clearing his throat. “Tell them to be ready on the double tomorrow. We can’t miss this meeting; this could be our biggest mission yet. If what that letter was saying was true, then we need everything we got if we were to help stop it. Now go, time’s waiting.”
Dawson, a little surprised by the General’s determination, nodded and raced out to repeat the information. McDouglas in turn looked at his watch before getting up to put on the rest of his uniform. He did enjoy the sweet music of full base activity as he arrived to see Dawson wrapping up his orders to the others. Throughout the whole day, everyone trained hard to make sure they were ready for another war. As far as they were concerned, no one else was aware of it; the rebuilding of the world was more important than what would soon come.
✥✥✥
That night, everyone went to their barracks knowing what they’ll do when morning came; they had a whole drill done earlier to make sure they don’t forget. The tanks too were in their hangers resting, some of them however couldn’t sleep as they discussed amongst each other on what their mission is.
“Psst! Bro! Stewie!” whispered Stuart excitedly, “You think we’ll get to be on some special intelligence mission?”
“Maybe…” yawned Stewie, “We’ll just have to see tomorrow.” With that, the M3 soon went to sleep.
Stuart still couldn’t sleep for a good while, still excited about what’s to come. But once tomorrow arrived, their expectations grew slim and I’m afraid they’ll encounter the hardest challenge of their entire lives.