FSE

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A red light on the dashboard began to blink; someone had picked up the infantry phone on the rear of the tank. In a stroke of good luck, I was able to put the Urbane's stubborn gearbox into reverse with only a single attempt. I tapped the gas pedal gently, and the tank slid backwards.

I grinned as a muffled yelp reached my ears.

I heard the startled, unfamiliar voice in my headset. "That's real funny! Now get ready and unbotton!"

I unlocked the drivers hatch and opened it, then raised my seat up so that my head peeked out above the Urbane tank's glacis.

There was an enormous crowd of Balfor soldiers assembled, more than I had ever seen. In every direction I could see; foxes, wolves, and dogs of a thousand breeds. They were an impressive sight, the crowd stretched to the horizon, except in front of us, where the land rose in tall, bare hills. To either side, I could see other tanks, their crews poking out of the hatches attentively. Above, the sky was an overcast gray, but as I watched, the clouds parted, and a ray of golden sun shone down upon the grand army.

Then, just to my left, the crowd parted, and a lone figure walked through, heading for the front. He climbed atop the burning wreck of an APC, and I saw that it was Ostin. He was wearing a full dress uniform, his shoulders were adorned with golden, braided patches. He also wore a peaked cap, with silver stars upon it that glinted in the sun like morning dew.

"Comrades! Today is the day you will leave your impression on the world! Now is the hour when we shall give history a reason to remember us!" He drew a saber from his belt, and pointed it towards the hills.

"Look yonder, sons of Balfor! Just over those hills, there lies the enemy!" I looked in the direction he pointed. Above the hills, the sky was shrouded with gray clouds, the color of wet gravel.

"They want to destroy everything we've built! Everything your fathers and grandfathers sacrificed their blood, sweat, and tears for!"

The crowd yelled and chanted, as if they were a single voice, so loud and captivating I find it hard to put down in words. I yelled with them, sharing in their passion.

"They want to take our unity, our brotherhood!" Ostin's voice cracked and shook, as if the emotion of what was passing through his mouth was too much. "We still have our unity, they will never take it! This is the hour where we make that plain to them!"

The crowd erupted again, and I yanked a cord below me, blasting the Urbane tank's truck-like horn.

"Steady!" Ostin said. His left arm was out behind him, as if he could hold back the massive army with the palm of his hand. His right hand brandished the saber high in the air. Knowing intuitively what was to come next, I jammed the tank back into forward gear.

"Charge!" Just like a general of old, Ostin sliced the saber downwards through the air as he gave the order, and promptly charged forward himself. Every soul within a mile shouted at the top of his lungs, sounding the greatest battle cry known to history. I floored the gas pedal of the tank, and we were soon keeping pace with the sprinting infantry.

The engine groaned as the ground became inclined below us. The wave of dogs still surged up the hill, with the cries of war tearing their throats. Then, the clouds parted, and the sun shone out in a blinding light, just above the crest of the hill.

I had to shield my eyes with my spare arm as we reached the top of the hill and drove over; the sunlight was becoming very bright. Suddenly, I could see nothing; everything was blindingly bright. Then, just as it came, the brightness faded. I felt the momentum of the tank begin to pull it down the other side of the hill.

I looked up, and saw that far below us, there was what looked like a line on the land, as if it was the boundary of some enourmous playing field. Our charge, now stronger for the terrain, rushed towards the line at great speed. It was then that I realized the line was a trench.

Just as I realized it, it was confirmed by the sound of hundreds of rifles going off at once, and the accompanying muzzle flashes, which I could see just over the trench.

A wolf that was running alongside the tank fell silently, but the charge sped on, even as another volley was fired, a bullet from which hit the tank somewhere just above me. I suppressed an urge to lower my seat and close the hatch, but instead I found myself pulling a Model AL7 submachine gun from somewhere, and aiming it out of the hatch with my spare hand.

Our tank was at the front of the charge, so I unloaded the AL7 in the direction of the trenches. It seemed everyone else had the same idea: The coaxial machine gun in the turret spattered bullets accross the area in front of us, and the infantry's weapons fired as well.

After a few seconds, the Urbane's low-velocity 4.5 inch gun spoke, sending a High-explosive round into the trench ahead; a perfect shot. The other tanks fired as well, rimming the trench with shell impacts. The Urbane's 4.5 inch gun was stabilized; with our low speed, and at these close ranges, its accuracy was deadly. The 12 pounds of TNT packed in each High-explosive shell didn't hurt its case either.

But then, it all changed. Far away, on the horizon behind the trench, I saw several ominous explosions; muzzle flares. Big ones. Instantly, I had a bad feeling. There was a screaming noise, impossibly loud. I tore my hands off the controls and held them tightly over my ears, but the noise bored into my skull still.

Then, my heart sank as I saw a the bright flare of a shell, high in the sky directly in front of us. It seemed to slow down, and then I realized; it was coming down! Straight at us!

All of my most primal instincts told me to move, take cover, do something, but I was frozen with fear. The shell nosedived straight at me, and when it was so close that It was no longer a glowing missile, but a gray, pointed shape, I closed my eyes and let out a wild scream.

It was then that woke up. I was in a contorted position on the hospital bed, and the sheets were a mess. I breathed in deeply, as I realized it had all been a dream. Ostin wasn't some 5-star general leading us on a glorious and deadly charge, he was dead, and probably buried by now. The rebels also didn't have heavy artillery. If they did, I doubted they'd be wasting the ammunition on an Urbane tank, anyways.

And so I quietly assured myself that the dream was not anything like reality, never would be. I put myself back into a sleeping position, and tried to pull some of the mangled sheets back over my body. A small part of me didn't want to go back to sleep, for fear of repeating the dream, but a bigger part of me was tired, still. Eventually, the bigger part won out.