Tira Briggs's Story

Captain Clayton was getting tired of the games, every conversation with this infantry counterpart turned into a duel of some sort so far (which may of have been partly his fault) and it was getting annoying. While he was no noble brat, who was mother's milk was politics, he had been a leader of men, just high enough to get taste of them. To know enough when someone was playing him and to know that he was an untrained, ham-handed novice in that arena. Of course, there are always dangerous amateurs or at least ones that can pull off a sucker punch now and then.

"Oh I trust you" said Henry, as pleasantly as he could, "Its your troops I don't have faith in. After all, if your Sergeant Major goes around assaulting officers and in front of her troops to boot, how disciplined can your rank and file be? However, I'm willing to give second chances. I'll just have my supervisors discreetly check how wide the trenches are being dug. I wouldn't put it passed your girls to try to leave us behind, to slow the orks down, when you decide its time to run away. Hopefully that will be after they fire their first shot."

"Have a good night" added the tanker, with an overly sweet smile, before he turned away from both the captain and the map. Not waiting for Tira to fire back another salvo or correct him on Hildenbrag's new rank, he scooped up his kit, the banners and strolled out of the room. Picking up the pace and taking long strides, he made sure that the only way she was going to catch up with him, was if the good Captain Briggs ran after him. Chuckling softly, he push his way out of the house, using his shoulder to force the way between the female crunchies and keep the banners unspoiled.

Stepping outside and into the dying light of the late afternoon, he continued walking, across the open plaza in the middle of Haven. Nodding to every tanker he passed, he didn't stop until he reached the hotel. It was finer then anything his boys had billeted in before but not as nice as the noble's house he had just left. True, he was now closer to his men and their supply depot, which was always a good thing but part of him was still fuming over being evicted from that glorious bed he had claimed. He took a little satisfaction however, in the fact, that there was only one set of sheets for bed in the master bedroom. The boys hadn't found any others, when they were "scouting" the place out.

The only reason he knew that, was because the sheets on the bed had already been slept in when they arrived and he had wanted a new set. The family must have taken them or had the others being washing somewhere. In fact, they hadn't found much of anything worth looting in the house without tearing out the floorboards and ripping down the walls. He would have put a weeks wages that the rest of the sheets had been easy to store and had been taken with the family or a servant looking to profit from their sale. Captain Briggs would have to sleep in the dirty sheets or find a different bed.

Henry moved into the suite the men from his tank had been using and spent the remainder of the night holding court in his new palace. More card games were played, runners sent out with a handful of instructions to the men, collecting the names of men, willing and experienced enough to over see work gangs from the 234th and wondering which of his Lieutenants might be a good replacement, if some ork did manage to kill him. Regias was a good fellow but he was a bit of a rabble rouser from back home and there was a reason he lead the scouts and not a proper tank platoon. Telemachus was also a good fellow, was more then stable for a hellhound commander but was more then a bit too zealous. Zeal in measured douses was good for a soldier and was even better when overflowing from a priest or commissar but in an officer? Might be a bit too alienating.

When the morning game, the 129th was already awake (for the most part) as the 234th rose from their blankets with shouts. It was part of the instructions their captain had issued the night before. The tankers didn't come with anything meant for digging, other then small folding spades for latrine pits, one per tank. They would need to get the shovels and what not the townspeople had left behind before the infantry did. Which meant getting up with the false dawn, to scour sheds and houses for the tools. They then had the time to make and enjoy breakfast, while the girls got started on the trenches. Or at least most of them had, the supervisors had been allowed to sleep and moved out to watch over and helped with the trenches.

Once the trenches were outlined, based on where the women were working, the men went to work. They were going to be building bunkers, half just slots dug into the ground and half made with bags filled with earth. Now if they just dug down until only the turret was above the ground, it would provide more protection for the tank or it would also keep them from employing hull or sponson mounted weapons. With the bags, they could build firing ports for those weapons.

Henry's jacket flapped around his back, as he sat on top of the Emperor’s Fury's turret, while it rumbled forwards, towards the outer trench.