Chapter 2: The Exercise (Part Two)

“Red Dragon One is incredible! Four point two kilometers, hitting a moving target at high speed—such marksmanship, few in the Federation Army can match that.”

“Harmand Yandel probably could, but…”

Glancing again at the information panel, the Federation staff officer speaking couldn’t help but sigh, “Yandel is over thirty already. This guy is just ridiculously young!”

“Yeah, are the young cadets at the Armored Academy all monsters?”

As the officers in the rear whispered among themselves, a shout came from the front row, where senior officers sat with tea and biscuits before them.

“I’m saying, have Federation cadets become so unruly nowadays? His advance speed completely ignores combat protocols—moving at triple speed, leaving his comrades’ cover behind. Such recklessness, Principal Goodman!”

A somewhat roundish Federation colonel roughly tugged at his collar. The Australian climate was harsh for him; even with the tent’s air conditioning adjusted to the optimal temperature, discomfort lingered.

“Colonel Strauss, what do you propose then?”

The speaker was another Federation colonel seated opposite—a slimmer figure with graying hair, sitting upright with the discipline of a model soldier.

“He should be expelled!”

Strauss’s words silenced the tent instantly. Everyone knew Strauss and Goodman were at odds, but to attack a cadet with outstanding performance in an exercise—wasn’t that excessive?

“Are you sure you want to expel this cadet? Expel Makarius Krini?”

A voice broke the tense silence. Sitting centrally, an older, rather portly man adorned with the rank of major general and armored corps insignia smiled at Strauss.

“Yes, exactly. So what if he’s skilled? Does skill give him license to flout military regulations? What if his recklessness causes equipment loss during exercises? Or personnel casualties? Once the exercise ends, this Krini fellow will be expelled… Wait, Krini?”

“That Krini?”

The major general smiled enigmatically, as if saying everything and nothing at once.

Strauss wished he could slap himself. Half his life had been spent squabbling with Goodman, distracted from other matters. Indeed, these were the mistakes of youth!

“Alright, everyone, let’s continue watching the exercise!”

The Armored Corps major general clapped his hands, refocusing everyone’s attention on the large screen. On the electronic map of the wilderness, the red arrow representing Red Dragon squad was surrounded and tightly encircled by similar blue markers.

“They’re coming! Estimated engagement in one minute! Deploy according to Plan One!”

Inside the tank’s battle compartment, Makarius Krini, with his thick black hair, adjusted his slightly oversized helmet and pressed the throat microphone to issue orders to his men.

***

Not far behind him, three tanks racing wildly suddenly slowed and veered apart, dispersing to the left and right. Soon, their hulks vanished into the swirling dust.

Yet Red Dragon One at the front did not hesitate, pressing onward relentlessly.

“Yudin, hand over control to me!”

Compared to the outdated Type 61 tank, the M61a2 Krini now commanded had a reduced crew from three to two, thanks to advanced automation. The driver and commander positions had been upgraded such that in extreme cases, one person could operate the tank alone—handling both driving and combat—but that was only in dire circumstances.

“Control’s yours!”

The driver at the tank’s front complied firmly with the commander’s request. This wasn’t the first time; in previous exercises, whenever the commander planned some experimental maneuver that might raise his superiors’ blood pressure, the driver would take over. Even the closest teamwork could not eliminate operational delays, which risked the crew’s safety.

Upon receiving control, though the tank’s speed remained nearly the same, Yudin in the front seat detected noticeably less vibration—he, the senior by age, had been thoroughly surpassed in skill.

“Switch to fire control. Shoot whatever you see. No volleys—alternate fire only!”

“Understood!”

Now climbing a gentle slope, the laser warning system suddenly activated, frantically alerting the crew to enemy targets locking on from afar.

“Bearing one o’clock, Type 61 tank, distance 2,400 meters! Tulip emblem—it’s that bastard Arthur!”

“Prepare to fire!”

Makarius ignored the alarms, pushing forward until the tank’s warning beep became a steady tone, signaling the enemy’s readiness to fire.

Then, two brief flames flickered on the horizon, followed by two black dots hurtling toward them. At the same moment, Makarius, fully focused on driving, felt his brain jolt as if struck by electricity.

“Spotted them!”

He swung the tank sharply left, causing the two marker rounds to miss by inches, landing to the right of the vehicle.

“If they miss, it’s no problem!”

“Boss is amazing! Let me try!”

Yudin, seeing the enemy’s off-target shots, was invigorated. Following the fire control lock, he returned fire—two 150mm main cannon rounds alternated, sending out training shells.

The turret filled with the acrid scent of spent gunpowder. The autoloader roared as the breech opened, empty shell casings clattered crisply to the floor, and two fresh rounds were loaded in succession.

“Damn, missed!”

“No worries, just keep firing. I’ll handle the rest!”

Makarius was unfazed; the enemy was a professional driver, so misses were expected. Besides, the tank carried enough ammunition for the opponent to waste for some time.

“So that was the first. What about the others?”

Red Dragon squad was engaged in an unconventional offensive exercise. Their four tanks faced four enemy squads—a total of sixteen vehicles. The odds seemed unfair, but since it was a drill, the defenders were restricted to designated defensive zones and couldn’t leave unless combat commenced.

Thus, Makarius searched for other opponents. As the attackers, they had devised plans for dealing with the defenders—provided the latter revealed their positions.

Hence, Makarius adopted a brazen approach, advancing solo. Yet so far, only one target had presented itself.

He refrained from hastily taking fire control to eliminate it; instead, he pressed deeper, attempting to flank and penetrate the blue side’s depth, hoping to lure out more enemies.

“Yudin, switch to smoke rounds. Fire two in a line!”

After dodging another tank’s attack, Makarius ordered briskly.

“Got it!”

Yudin promptly fired two rounds of smoke shells. Though still missing their mark, the shots forced the enemy to maneuver defensively, increasing the distance between the two tanks.

Reloaded, Red Dragon One’s dual barrels alternated, launching two smoke shells that exploded before the opponent’s tank. The spreading white smoke rapidly obscured their vision.

“Yudin, keep advancing!”

Makarius watched the smoke bloom, deftly steering away and retaking fire control. A lightning bolt flashed through his mind once more.

“Spotted you!”

Without hesitation, he fired a shell toward the left flank of the smoke near a gentle slope. As the shell left the barrel, the tank’s front half emerged from the smoke, as if on cue. The Type 61 tank precisely caught the marker round, its entire turret momentarily bathed in blue.

“Tulip One, withdraw from the exercise!”