Beau Myers thought that the raid was almost too easy, especially at first. Their trucks packed with soldiers quickly sped past the barriers and checkpoints at the Tennessee border while the disorganized Tennessee troops had simply stared in amazement. After the border, everyone they encountered waved at them apparently thinking them to be some of their own troops. Beau couldn’t quite figure it out until he noticed with a start that everyone was wearing the same U.S. Army uniforms and no one thought to look close enough to tell the difference. Eventually, what gave them away were their license plates.

They made good time south on the Purchase Parkway, but Beau got confused and they had to turn around several times before finding the right farm where the tanks were hidden. Everything was totally rearranged by the debris and destruction left by the tornados. There were people and vehicles going in every direction. It certainly helps us blend in, thought Beau. Hardly anyone gives us a second glance.

Finally Beau was able to spot the bright red barn he had seen from the air. The initial plan had been to park the vehicles a distance away and approach the tanks on foot in a combat wedge formation. Now, given that time was essential, they decided to press on.

They hoped to find the tanks unguarded; no such luck. As they pulled into the farm driveway, a man in uniform with a weapon slung over his shoulder stepped out into their path from a group of men idling in the shade. He held his hand up for them to stop.

“Hold on right there!” he yelled in a pompous tone. “No one goes any further. Orders from General Sampson himself.” The man seemed very pleased and self-important by the fact that he was able to utter these words and had probably waited in anticipation of saying them to someone.

Beau and Sergeant Major Givens were in the lead vehicle. They looked at each other for a moment and Beau saw the Sergeant Major tighten his grip on his weapon and Beau knew he was getting ready to fight. Beau thought it might be worth pushing their luck a little further and stepped out of the vehicle towards the man.

“We’re here on orders from General Sampson,” said Beau with what he hoped was conviction. “I am Captain Myers and this is my platoon. We’re to relieve you of your duty so you can return to your unit. They need you there.”

The man looked confused and uncertain. “Yes sir, but…are you sure? That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“I don’t think General Sampson took you into consideration when he made his plans,” said Beau. “I suggest you get back to your unit as fast as you can and leave the guard duty to us.”

“Guard duty?” asked the man again, confused.

“The tanks?” said Beau, “We’re to guard the tanks now. You can go.”

The man looked even more confused. “We’re not here to guard the tanks, we’re supposed to attack with them north when we get the word. These are our tanks and we’re not…” The man’s voice trailed off as he noticed the Kentucky license plates.

It would have only taken a moment to switch the plates, thought Beau seeing what the man was looking at, but it didn’t occur to anyone.

Meanwhile the man’s head turned back to Beau with his eyes wide. Beau shrugged and smiled. The man started to grab his weapon off his shoulder, but Beau drew the 9mm Beretta pistol from his holster and pointed it at him. At the same time he felt the Sergeant Major come up behind him with his rifle and cover the other men in the shade, who looked up in amazement.

The Kentucky men quickly got out of the vehicles and helped disarm the Tennessee soldiers, placing them in neat seated rows where they could be easily watched. The Sergeant Major ordered the demolition team to get to work on the tanks. Beau started to turn to look at the three tanks about a hundred yards to their left, when he heard a rough loud coughing noise and saw smoke suddenly come billowing from the engine compartment of one of the tanks. It was starting up. Evidently all the tankers aren’t idling in the shade, Beau realized.

A moment later the turret turned their direction with an electric pneumatic whine before it stopped. There was a momentary pause which seemed to stretch out forever and then the tank’s main gun spewed forth fire and thunder as the tank rocked back on its rear springs.

Beau was transfixed by the sight and thought he could actually see the tank round come out of the barrel and fly towards him in slow motion. He would later swear he actually saw the shell’s stabilizing fins deploy while in flight. At the last minute, he leaped to the side as time regained its normal pace and the round slammed into their lead truck with a deafening explosion and a huge wave of heat and fire.

Beau momentarily couldn’t remember where he was. He saw burning bodies in the wreckage of the truck. Some of the bodies were clearly dead, others sadly were not. These looked to be screaming, but Beau could not hear them and realized with calm distraction that his eardrums had probably been blown out by the overpressure of the blast.

He also noticed distractedly that his uniform was on fire and he calmly rolled in the grass until it was out thinking the whole time about the elementary school safety mantra to “stop, drop, and roll.” His pistol was still in his hand and he holstered it with difficulty.

After putting out his uniform fire, Beau looked back at the tank as it swiveled again slowly and came to a stop. He realized that it was going to fire at the second vehicle and he screamed a warning, not certain if anyone could hear him since he couldn’t hear himself. It seemed to take forever for the shot to come and Beau suddenly knew why, whoever was in that tank was alone. Normally there were four crew members, a driver, a commander, a gunner, and a loader. This man was forced to move to the gunner’s position to move the turret, then down to load a very heavy round, then back up to the gunner’s seat to fire. Beau had a moment to be thankful that this individual seemed enamored with firing the big gun instead of unloading on them with the coaxial machine gun which would have done them all in quickly. Maybe he just didn’t want to also kill his friends in the process.

The second shot came as ferociously as the first, but thankfully not as damaging since everyone had already gotten clear of the second truck, but the burning flying metal pieces still did plenty of damage. Beau saw men on both sides screaming in pain.

We’re dead meat, he thought. Beau looked around to see if he could find the Sergeant Major. They had to get out of here and fast or they were all dead. He couldn’t see him anywhere in all the confusion.

Incredibly, the top hatch of the tank opened and a blond haired man stuck his head out. He began frantically yelling and waving for his friends to come get in the tank with him and many took off running in that direction. Beau thought this was their one and only very slim chance of getting out of there alive. Either way, it was better than being mowed over by that monster.

Beau Myers had been a star football half-back at Mayfield High School on one of their state championship teams. He got plenty of attention from college scouts, but most thought he was too small. They also couldn’t figure out why he seemed so blazing fast on the football field, but in tryouts he seldom ran the 40 in less than 4.8 seconds. As a matter of fact, Beau had discovered that he never did anything in his life nearly as well as he did on the football field during those games of old. He missed that old feeling of clarity and energy he got when he stepped on the field and the loss of that feeling haunted him. Beau realized he had that old familiar energy and focus flooding through him now and he rejoiced in his heart despite the dire situation.

Although there were plenty of enemy between him and the tank, Beau knew he could beat them, he had to. He began sprinted with all his strength towards the tank. He passed surprised and dazed men one by one until he was in front. The man at the top of the turret didn’t seem to notice at first, just kept waving everyone on. He even cheered Beau on and encouraged him for a moment before realizing that he didn’t recognize the smoking and bloody man headed his way. The man’s face turned angry and savage, yelling at Beau defiantly before ducking back down into the hole and reaching up to pull down the hatch.

Beau turned on every last bit of strength he had. He didn’t stop to climb the four foot tall side of the tank, simply leaping in stride and then dived towards the closing hatch with his outstretched arms. The hatch slammed down on his forearms painfully.

The man inside cursed loudly and lifted the lid again and brought it down harder putting his full weight behind it. Beau managed to get one arm free and grabbed his pistol and stuck it into the gap firing off five quick shots. Immediately, the pressure on his arm stopped, and Beau pushed the hatch all the way up. He was just starting to look inside when someone hit him in the small of the back knocking the wind out of him. Amazingly he was able to keep hold of the pistol.

He fell down on top of the tank and rolled over to see another soldier with a rifle butt ready to smash it down on Beau’s head. Beau had a moment to wonder why the man just didn’t shoot him when his arm came up of its own volition and shot the man in the chest. The man fell backwards and tumbled off the side of the tank. Beau looked up in time to see other Tennessee soldiers running his way and quickly scrambled into the tank, closing the hatch securely behind him and throwing the bolt, locking it shut.

Beau moved down the short ladder wiping blood off his face and saw the man he had shot lying on the floor bleeding from a horrible wound in his neck. He appeared to be trying to talk to Beau, angry and defiant even unto death, but thankfully Beau was still deaf. The man would be dead in a moment and there was nothing Beau could do about it.

Besides he was trying to kill me and the others. Beau had a moment to wonder how it had all come to this so quickly, less than a year ago they were all Americans and neighbors.

He grabbed the bleeding man by the shoulders and pulled him out of the way and then settled into what must be the gunner’s seat. The controls appeared fairly easy with labels for everything. Beau found by looking through the range finder and then moving the joystick he could move the turret. He also found a selector switch and changed it from “main gun” to “coaxial”. He then looked back through the rangefinder, saw the men who had been running toward the tank milling about nearby uncertainly. He sighted the red crosshair on the men and pressed the trigger.

Beau felt rather than heard a faint hum through his hands as he saw the men almost disintegrate in bursts of red mist. The bursts lasted only heartbeats, but it was enough to do the job. He traversed the turret to look for other enemy, but didn’t see any. He looked back toward his men and saw that they were getting control of the remaining prisoners. Some of the JP men even appeared to be cheering.

He climbed out of the gunner’s position and made his way through the tight corridor to the driver’s position, sliding into the seat and looking around. He saw what looked like a throttle and instead of a steering wheel, a horizontal bar with grips at each end like a straight motorcycle handle.

“Let’s see if I can drive this bad boy,” said Beau to himself has he pressed down on the throttle.

*******

Beau sure hoped General Anderson wasn’t going to be mad. They hadn’t quite followed orders, but with their trucks destroyed, they had to get back somehow and this just seemed to make the most sense.

They had disarmed the surviving enemy, turned them loose, then crammed everyone inside the three tanks. After that, they drove in single file back up the Purchase Parkway to Kentucky. Again, no Tennesseans seemed to realize that they were stealing the WTR’s tanks. People either waved them on, or ignored them in their efforts to clean up the tornados’ destruction.

The tanks made good time and were topped off with fuel. When they came over the last rise and approached the Kentucky border, Beau could see that pandemonium had broken loose on the other side. Soldiers were pointing and getting into defensive positions while others appeared to be fleeing to the rear. Beau smiled and realized that he was enjoying all of this immensely.

As they neared the border, Beau briefly remembered something about General Matthews going north to get anti-tanks mines. He had a moment to realize they might be getting ready to roll over these mines, but it was too late to stop. Beau held his breath as they crossed over and then breathed easier when nothing happened.

They crossed the border and then spun around lined up facing the Tennessee border, then turned their guns in that direction in an effort to show everyone that they were friendly. Beau climbed up out of his commander’s seat and opened the hatch. He stuck both hands out and yelled, “Don’t shoot, we’re friendly, it’s Captain Myers and I’m coming out, DO…NOT...SHOOT!”

Beau slowly raised his head up out of the hatch and glanced around. He looked at the amazed faces and lowered his arms sitting on the side of the turret.

A wide smile crossed his face at the exact moment he was shot, falling back into the tank with blood pouring out of his chest.