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An Old Story

by

Vixyy Fox

There is such knowledge in the old stories.

The adults call them Fairy Tales,

The children call them the truth.

Simple words can convey complex ideas.

It's that easy, or not.

You merely have to believe.

"Turn right at the next tree." The interphone made the tank commander's voice sound tinny.

"Very funny," the driver replied calmly, "There's nothing but trees around us; just tell me when to turn."

They were in heavy forest and traveling the only pathway even half way there; cut by something tracked that had previously driven through the area. Whose vehicle it had been was totally unknown. In the darkness this made no difference in any case.

"I'm serious," the voice retorted, "Take a right at the next tree and then brace yourself because we're going to create a side road."

"We're not engineers, Zip. Roads take..."

"Turn right ninety degrees now, brace yourself and take her down to low gear."

With a grinding noise the huge machine's right track froze until the required turn was accomplished and then it unfroze again, placing the tank on its new course. There were further grinding sounds as the gears were moved down and down and down until, with the power of a hundred sex crazed Bulls, the sixty ton behemoth careened down hill, taking out any tree that dared be in its path; jarring thud after jarring thud after jarring thud.

There was a clank as the tank's commander pushed his hatch up and back into the open position. Freezing cold air moved in replacing the warm air held inside the beast.

Loader curled himself up as much as possible while holding on to the bracer bars in front of the magazine; trying to keep as close to the heater as possible. Zip was a turret head, but a good commander, so he trusted him. They all trusted him. It had been his idea to get the iron skirts welded on, salvaging the metal himself and then paying the engineering grunts from his own pocket for the modification. The other tankers had made fun of them, until four hits later they were all still alive and most of their brethren were not.

"It's cold Zip!" Loader yelled up to him.

"No shit!" he yelled back with a laugh. Pushing the button on his interphone, he called down, "Turn turn turn... face her back again and stop. Gunner, keep the turret pointed back in the direction we came as the hull turns. We whang the barrel on one of the trees and..."

"Yeah, yeah," Gunner responded, cutting him off and cutting him out of the intercom by pressing his own button, "We bend the barrel and the breach blows... fucking wonderful."

'One hundred and forty millimeters and the barrel will bend,' the fellow thought again as he rotated the turning wheel, keeping pace with the hull, 'What kind of crap is that? They had to make the gun so frigging long we have to travel with it pointing behind, didn't they?'

When the machine was positioned the way its commander wanted it, everything stopped but for the purring idle of its imperfectly designed diesel engine.

"Driver, shut down. Keep the auxiliary power on. We can sleep here." He closed the hatch behind himself as he spoke. "The way the snow is blowing, we'll be covered in an hour and no one will see us."

Everyone of the crew breathed a sigh of relief. They'd been going since dawn, reloaded and refueled three times; counting kills of ten heavies and twenty soft. They would have painted the victory stripes on the barrel, but the entire length had already been used up, and that paint chipped and faded since a long time ago.

With a flip of a switch, the huge engine died, leaving the soft puttering of the auxiliary generator. Theoretically this would be enough to keep them warm and the monster engine ready to fire back up.

The snow would keep them safe.

---

Driver Driver safe and warm

Brace your balls to the coming storm.

Should you fall and hit your head

Take care you don't wake up dead.

Driver snorked loudly and deeply enough that it woke him up. He'd grown used to sleeping like this over the years... probably the reason he was always tired. Normally he would drift right back to sleep but nature called and he had to take a leak.

Pushing the button on his interphone, he said, "Zip, I gotta pee."

"So pee," was the reply. There was no sleep in the voice. "How's fuel?"

Driver looked at the large gage that seldom worked right. "Say's half. I'm thinking maybe three quarters. I'll stick the fuel tank in the morning."

There was a click on the interphone in response.

Pulling his tanker's helmet fully over his head, he fastened the chin strap and then put his gloves on. Pretty much he was fully dressed already in the winter camouflage white insulated body suit. It was hell trying to find your pecker in the thing. If you slipped up and pissed yourself the insulation soaked it up like a sponge and before you knew it, you not only stunk, but you froze like a yellow icicle.

Closing the door behind him to keep as much heat in the monster's belly as possible, he pushed his hatch open and stood up, braving a good amount of snow as it caved in on him. This placed the edge of the driver's deck at his belly, and without too much difficulty he lifted himself out. His breath clouded around his head. It had at least stopped snowing and he took a moment to look at the stars... what of them he could see through the forest canopy.

"It's a nice night, isn't it?" The voice was as clear as the night sky. It startled Driver enough that he slipped, landed hard on his backside, and then slid down the front of the machine. Standing as quickly as he could, he turned to face the enemy, knowing that his body would be riddled with bullets in a matter of seconds. He would at least be brave, and...

He saw no one.

"Do you like the cold?" This time the voice came from behind him.

"Kill me and be done with it!" he hissed.

"And why would I do that, eh? The cold will kill you soon enough, so why should I soil my claws?"

Gathering his courage, Driver spun about, his arms out to grab whoever it was that was there. His arms found only thin air.

A quiet laugh floated on the wind and then was gone.

Driver stood watching the night for near half a minute before the cold encouraged him to hurry. Shedding one glove, he groped inside the winter suit, exposed himself, and made water. As he turned back to the huge machine what he had done was already frozen on the ground.

---

Gunner Gunner sleeping peacefully

Grip your guts to the coming maelstrom.

Death stalks you from well upwind

And you will wonder where it came from.

Gunner was next to feel the urge. His body responded by cramping bad enough that he actually groaned just before he farted.

"You stink," Loader told him from across the small space. "You do that near the heater and we'll blow up." Picking up a roll of toilet paper he bounced it off of the fellows head. "Best you go outside and use that."

Zip's eyes opened and his nose wrinkled. "Gazux! Gunner, did you do that?"

"Yes," he replied, sitting up carefully so he wouldn't bang his head on anything, "And darned proud of it. I gotta go."

"No shit?" Loader grumbled.

Zip smiled at the unnoticed and unintentional pun. "Come on then," he told his crewman, "I'll go with you." Pressing the button on his intercom, he called down, "Driver, when you went out was everything quiet?"

There was a moment's silence on the line before Driver responded. "Sure. Just some Verdunstat Woodland Spirit making fun of me. He said the cold would kill me soon enough, and yet I am here and warm."

Gunner and Zip chuckled, but Loader did not. Pushing his intercom button, he asked, "What did it look like?

"I didn't see it," Driver admitted, "But it spoke to me clearly."

"You're serious then?" Zip asked him.

"Of course I'm serious. You ask me, I say we fire tank back to life and leave."

"Why didn't you report this?" Zip asked him.

"Sure, sure, report what? I see nothing. Nothing was there. I am not old woman with stories to scare children. Just don't be surprised. The night can play tricks on you."

Zip looked at Gunner in the dim light. Gunner made a sign next to his head indicating they had the village idiot for their driver. Bending he picked up the toilet paper, farting as he did so. The other two occupants of the compartment were quick with their condemnation.

"Start the engine," Zip told Driver over the interphone. "I'm going out with Gunner. When we get back we will head backwards until we come to our lines."

Driver sat up, stretched, and then began flipping switches while Zip pushed upwards and back on his hatch. Taking his machine pistol from its place, he placed its strap around his neck, checked to see it was ready for use, and then made his exit. Gunner also followed, joyfully leaving a greenish stench in his wake.

Zip was already on the ground and moving to an area behind the huge machine as the engine slowly turned over. Gunner, turning back to the hatch, closed it with a soft thump. As he made his way carefully to the back where he could slide to the ground, he chuckled at Loader's parting shot to him... something about his being a secret weapon that had backfired. The sounds of the engine, however, did not make him happy. It was turning, but it did not fire.

Becoming anxious, he jumped up and down upon the hull calling upon the gods to touch the metal monster's heart and give it life.

"And what would you give me to do this?" asked a voice at his ear.

Reaching to his dangling microphone, he pushed the button. "I give you whatever you want; now turn the damned glow plugs on and use the ether."

The engine roared to life, and Gunner smiled. Then he realized he was not plugged into the monster's intercom system. Turning, he perceived a dark furred creature sitting atop of the tank's turret. The middle of its face was white like the snow, and its paw was out. White smiling teeth shone in the darkness. "I am hungry, pay me," it said plainly.

There was a ripping sound of a machine pistol being fired. Sparks illuminated the night as bullets bounced off of the armor. In the same instance, the creature disappeared. This was followed by silence and then a shriek as Zip came running back towards the tank. The back of his pants had been shredded. "It bit me, it bit me! Bastard!" he screamed as he climbed the cold metal of the machine. Spinning he sprayed the woods with a hail of bullets.

"You almost killed me!" Gunner yelled at him. "What in the name of nothing were you thinking when you brought a machine pistol to piss with?!"

"Get in the tank!" the other man responded when he ran out of ammunition. Pushing past his crewman, he tugged the hatch open.

"I have to go!" Gunner yelled back, his sudden cramping causing him to forget just about everything. And then what Zip had said caught in his cold soaked mind. "What bit you?"

"That whopping huge Wolverine... the one you were talking to."

Both men looked at each other, the vibration of the tanks engine finally being felt through their boots.

"The engine is running," Zip said matter of factly.

"He did that," Gunner countered. "He said we have to pay him something now."

"You're out of your mind."

"Give me the machine pistol!" Gunner yelled at him as he held out his hand.

"I will not!" Zip yelled back, clutching it to his chest.

The crewman moved closer to his tank's commander and then feigned another cramp. Bending double, he clutched his stomach. When Zip stepped forward, he grabbed the machine pistol from him and tossed it out into the night.

"Take it!" Gunner yelled, "We are even now... can I at least crap in peace?"

When there was no answer, Zip cursed him for his stupidity. He stopped, however, when he was hit by a snowball. The machine pistol followed, clattering off of the tank's metal hull.

"Give me food," yelled a voice from the darkness. "You come to my home in the middle of winter and wake me from a sound sleep... the least you can do is give me sustenance."

There was a pause as both men looked at each other and then said in one breath, "Loader's salami."

---

Loader Loader staying warm

Embrace your heater against the cold.

Hunger will be your friend this night

Since your salami is worth more than gold.

Zip and Gunner tumbled into the tank's turret, quickly pulling the hatch closed behind them.

"I have to crap!" Gunner complained.

"So use your helmet," Zip told him. "No one goes back outside."

Loader looked up from his fetal position next to the heater. "After the war I am going to a very hot place and never coming back."

"Hell is hot," Gunner told him.

"Then I would kiss the Devil to stay there," the miserable little fellow told him.

"Loader," Zip began with a smile. "Where is that huge salami your family sent you?"

"None of your business," he replied, watching his commander closely. "I am saving it for a very special occasion. Besides; it's very salty and will need about ten gallons of beer to wash it down."

The driver's compartment door slid open and Driver leaned back, looking at the three of them from an upside down position. "How can someone sleep with all this noise?" he complained.

"You're not supposed to be sleeping," all three of them said.

"Turn the heaters up," Loader demanded.

"Why did you try to start the engine without turning on the glow plugs?" Gunner shouted at him.

"Are we ready to move?" Zip questioned.

The heaters are on full blast, I used the glow plugs since it is procedure and I am not stupid, and yes we are ready..."

The engine quit running.

"Shit," they all said together.

Driver slid back to his position and checked the gages. Gunner and Zip crowded in behind him, while Loader never left his place at the heater.

"Everything is fine," Driver called out loudly. Turning to look back up into the turret he jumped when he came face to face with his crew members. His padded tanker's helmet was the only thing that kept him from getting a good bruise on his head. After cursing loudly, he told them, "Don't ever do that."

"What did you think we were?" Gunner asked, punching him in the shoulder, "A Gervandamit Wolverine?"

"Don't be more stupid than you usually are," Driver retorted, "Wolverines can't talk."

There was the sound of claws on the tank's hull. Following this, Gunner farted, Zip cursed, Driver slid back into his position and punched the engine's start button several times and Loader threw up from the stench.

With the winding sound of the engine also came the sound of four people gagging as the mixture of odors mingled and assaulted their noses.

"Loader," Zip finally managed, "We need your salami."

"Why?"

The auxiliary generator stopped running. With the quiet came an instant drop in temperature.

"Because of that," Zip told him, clicking on a battle lantern. "Don't ask me to explain why... but it is a who." Turning, he showed the little man his posterior, the pants of which were shredded.

"Grandmother Wolverine," Loader whispered.

"What?" the other three men asked together.

"She was Finnish and really really old," he told them.

"All grandmother's are old," Driver interjected.

"She wasn't my grandmother," Loader explained, "We just called her that. No one knew how old she was. She had but one tooth and hairy ears... and she was all stooped over. She used to tell the children stories of the forest. Most laughed at her; but not me."

Claws dragged across the tank's metal surface sounding very loud.

"Did any of you ask anything of the gods?" he questioned, looking upwards towards the sound.

"I asked them to start the fucking engine," Driver hissed, "It was turning and turning and turning and no start... not a..." He bent double and clutched his stomach to an accompanying rumbling fart.

Zip, Driver, and Loader all scrambled to the boxes containing their gas masks. In less than five seconds, all three had them on and fitted.

Loader, giving the man a very dirty look through the lens of his mask, slid to the gun's breach. Unlocking the blow back safety he opened it, pulling out a four foot long black salami. Moving to the hatch, he opened it and then climbed the ladder just enough that he was outside to his midsection. When he faced forward, he found himself face to face with a huge Wolverine. The creature was not smiling.

Ripping his mask off, the little man breathed deeply of the fresh air. Clouds of vapor momentarily enveloped his head. When he could, he said, "I greet you Grandmother Wolverine, with belief and trepidation."

"You always were a good boy," the beast told him. "You should not have gone to war. You could have stayed with me, and I told you so. Did you bring me payment for starting your monster machine's cold heart?"

He pulled the salami up through the hatch and showed it but did not yet pass it over. "It has stopped again."

The beast's voice changed slightly to that of an old woman. "Tell the one who steers to turn it back on."

Loader yelled back down the hatch and a second later the engine rumbled to life.

Loader handed the salami over. By now his teeth were chattering. "I am so very cold, Grandmother," he told her, "So very very cold."

The Wolverine placed a paw on his shoulder and his shivering stopped. "Tell them to leave now," she told him, "Before the ice sets in and they become stuck. Tell them to head back to their own lines, but that you are going to stay here."

He made to protest, but she placed her nose to his. "You said you would kiss the Devil to stay warm Loader. Stay here with me and be warm. This machine will be dead soon in any case."

"I cannot leave them," he whispered. "They are my brethren."

Grandmother Wolverine took a bite from the salami and chewed it slowly. "I understand," she finally told him... and then was gone.

Loader disappeared inside the tank, and a moment later it began to move, squealing and churning its way back up the hill. When it made the original road the driver turned it left while Gunner moved the turret to keep the long barrel pointed behind where it would not accidentally strike something.

They then slowly made their way back in the direction from whence they had come.