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The sport of Sensha-do is a complex one; it is filled with rules, origins, and acts that would make any sane person not want to join. However, the safety of this otherwise dangerous sport is closely monitored with adding extra carbon to tanks as well as other protective measures to keep any other tanker from being injured. Despite all of this, it is one of the most popular sports in Japan with other countries catching on to the sport.
Today, one such tank for Saunders High, an M4A2 Sherman named Boston, was being cleaned by a girl named Alisa, who was doing it as punishment by Kay for cheating in a match once again. She hated it greatly, and it didn’t help that the other tanks would gawk and snigger at her predicament.
Boston made a face, “Not again Alisa please!” he said in English.
“You’re lucky I’m not at my worst,” she replied frowning, “otherwise I’ll clog up your fuel tanks with soapy water! Besides, you have to look nice for your next match against BC Freedom in 3 weeks.”
“I am nice,” he said now in Japanese, “you’re just an old hickey!”
“And you’re an inglorious bastard!” she huffed angrily, and scrubbed him vigorously.
Boston smiled, “You know Alisa, I really was an inglorious bastard once, shall I tell you?”
“I suppose…” she sighed before muttering, “it would give me a nice break from this cleaning.”
“Well come on down here, I can’t tell you while you’re up there!”
“Fine, give me a few minutes!” Once she was done, she climbed down on sat on a box as the Sherman began.
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“Richie, Daniel, Georgia, and I were built together in Ohio.”
“Who,” asked Alisa, “are they?”
“They’re my siblings whom I loved very much. All three reside in a museum in Fort Benning, Georgia, and they participate in similar events with the other tanks there too. We four were painted brown to accompany the environment we’ll be sent to, that would be France in 1944. Georgia and I had a short 75 mm cannon while the other two had longer 76 mm ones. We thought we looked wonderful with our spiffy guns and glamourous coat; we think we’ll look dashing shooting enemies down.”
“What about in Sensha-do?” asked Alisa.
“We never heard of it during that time, so we didn’t care to know or what it was about.” chuckled Boston, then he continued.
“I was finished first and sent away on a transport ship. I didn’t like that one bit, it wobbled dreadfully. At the port near Normandy, I was unloaded onto a flatbed, there weren’t any working cranes so they had to use the ship’s dereks. They nearly turned me upside down and looked like I was about to fall!”
“Heh, you must’ve looked stupid.” Alisa chuckled.
“Yes, and I felt it too. I got angrier and angrier.
“They loaded onto the flatbed at last, and I was transported to a base along with 28 others by a French train. His name was Claude, he wasn’t the most glamorous train I’ve seen much like some of the Union Pacifics back home but he was very kind and kinda humorous.
“‘So you’re bound fahr traineeng eh?’ he said, ‘you must get ready to fight zose nahzees! ze soonair we beat zem, ze quickair we'll ween!’ I didn’t like the sound of that, but I was too tired to say anything. It was dark when we arrived, it took some time to unload me, and then they left me in the open, lonely and wishing my siblings were here.
“Next morning, equipment was everywhere around me when I woke up. I was surprised, ‘There’s no truck!’ I said. A soldier laughed, ‘We carried them by horses and cart since our trucks are busy with other tasks at Rouen.’
‘But can’t they come back from Raw…whatever it was you said?’
‘Like I said, they’re busy helping the locals after we liberated them, you and the others will remain here practicing your shooting with dummy tanks.’
‘WHAT? Am I to shoot dummies?!’
‘Well of course.’
‘I won’t!’ I said, ‘So there!’ He just laughed and walked away.
“Soon the officer came with my training crew. ‘You’re gonna start up this M4 right here.’ he said to them.
‘Can I shoot other tanks sir?’ I asked.
‘Certainly not.’ He said, I gave him such a look. My crew tried to start me up, but I refused to. They were just learning how to operate them so it was easy, they called me bad names but I didn’t care, I just wanted to shoot at other tanks after all.
“At last, the officer gave up. ‘Very well then, be an inglorious bastard! We’ll cover you up until you’re a better tank!’ They did and I felt miserable after that."
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“I guess it serves you right.” Alisa chuckled as she shrugged.
“Never mind that,” said a voice, “would you mind telling us more?”
Alisa turned back in surprise, there was Kay and a few other students who had come up quietly to hear Boston’s story. Boston gave a warm smile and continued the rest; from him having quarrels with Richie (who had arrived shortly after Boston was let out) to him rescuing several new friends he made from enemy fire. Needless to say, more and more students came to listen in on his tale, even a few other tanks.
After he told his story, Alisa gained a new respect for Boston vowing to herself to never be like him in his youth. Although I suppose she would love to spend more time with him just to give her words of wisdom in the future, wouldn’t she?