Mostly Girls, Und Panzer III: The Continuous Track Cup

Chapter 2 Part 3

The massive hulking steel machine rumbled forwards on command.

The garage was packed full with American tanks of numerous shapes and sizes, with seas of olive drab painted machines taking up the whole room.

"Be careful not to scratch anything, this ain't just our garage you know." Carm said.

"I am well aware of that sir."

"Just in case, you know grown ups maintain these things, and last thing you want to do is make some Army guy mad."

"I have been your driver for half a year now, why so much doubt?" Dan remarked.

"Eh, that one time you messed up the M6 because you broke the shifter doesn't leave memory easily." Gary remarked.

Dan got visibly mad.

"Ah, I can remember it like it was yesterday.

Ooooh, Gary this tank is a team effort. Ohhhh, you have to pitch in too." Gary said in a mocking tone.

"You sound like my mom when it's time to clean the house." Gary said.

"You sit down and read books and watch YouTube all day, I tried to get you off your lazy a## and thankfully I had the patience to try and treat you like a respected crewmate." Dan fired back

"I can hear you both over the intercom you know." Carm said.

"Uh oh, Sargey is nosy again." Gary said.

"Sound off gunner." Carm said.

"Sir yes sir" Gary said, immediately turning around to give a fake salute.

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The large T29 pulled out into the beaming sunlight, finally exiting the garage.

The speed on the campus, outside of the maneuvering grounds, was around 5 miles an hour.

The reason why the speed limit was so slow was likely because the Army was still not a fan of putting adolescent teenagers inside of the three-dozen ton armored fighting machines.

Tanks, while cool, were extremely dangerous, even besides the incredibly large gun, these vehicles were giant, made of extremely heavy steel, and had big tracks, even the lightest M22 Locust paradropable tanks could easily crush a person.

These weren't cars either, they didn't have the same steering implements, and most drivers were inept at using stick-shift transmissions.

There were signs up everywhere, with words like "DANGER: TANK CROSSING" on them, which were almost humorous, they were very akin to the "deer crossing" signs that you'd see everywhere back home, but with a Tank silhouetted on the sign instead of a deer.

Everywhere were large concrete expanses to more easily accommodate large tanks, with large amounts of space to maneuver.

The ground was littered with ammunition crates, oil barrels, and hoses spiderwebbing all over the ground.

The garage was quite the distance from the mess hall, which was near the main roads.

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The base was strangely empty,

The only sounds were the creaking and groaning of the suspension combined with the continuous growling noise of the engine as the rpm fluctuated.