Journal #4

November 7th, 2989

I don't know how many times I've said it, but thank god for engineers and their 'magical calculators.' As an AP shell tore through my left armour breaching the hull, I turned my tank to present the other side to the enemy, and an engineer started reshaping the armour on my left side to seal the breach. Poor bastard got blown away by a HE shell part way through the repairs. Seconds later the platoon's weapons specialist Brian Aslakov called over the com,
"High Cherenkov radiation levels from the tank I just marked, it's got a fission reactor, keep your distance!" As soon as I heard that, the only thing on my mind was 'shit. This complicates things.' If a single round breached the reactor, anything within a five meter radius would have been decimated. Thank god it was just a low-power reactor. Or so I thought.

I rotated my turret to face the marked tank and saw that it was an Imperial Heavy tank. Three other friendly tanks turned to face this threat, two of them light armour, one a modified medium tank with an armour piercing auto-cannon. All four of us opened fire, careful to avoid the engine compartment. Me being the biggest threat, the tank turned to face me and opened fire with a rail-gun, tearing off three inches of frontal armour.

Brian Aslakov in the modified medium tank opened fire with his auto-cannon, and accidentally pierced the enemies' reactor. I cursed over the com and yelled for everyone to get back. Then the real surprise comes. The breached tank started venting gas. I realized Brian screwed up his readings. It didn't have a fission reactor. Before the tank blossomed into a fire ball, it launched a low-yield tactical nuke at our communication array, consuming two light tanks, a medium tank, and our supply jeep.

We lost six good men in that skirmish, can no longer contact any allies, and one-hundred pounds of munitions detonated creating the largest 'hit me' sign in this entire region. For the first time in my life I find myself praying to the gods, the ones I don't believe in, to see us safely through this. We can't last much longer. If we're lucky a friendly MAC saw the explosion and will investigate. If we're unlucky? An enemy MAC is already preparing for saturation bombing.

As we prepare for another night of restless sleep, I remember what an old friend used to say, "When in doubt, shoot. When cornered, take them to hell with you. When without hope, run." It was an age old phrase meaning shoot when it doubt, detonate your munitions to take the bastards to hell with you, and live to fight another day if you can't possibly win.

Private Jacob Allen,
Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armoured Division