The Tank

The Tank, Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The “seven samurai”, as we began to call them, promised to teach us how to defend ourselves. They promised to turn us into soldiers like them. I was excited. I imagined myself crawling on the ground with a rifle, like my plastic army men. I imagined shooting bulls eyes. I imagined painting my face with camouflage and sneaking through the woods. But it wasn’t like that. Instead it was digging. And digging. And more digging.

The ground was a real soldier’s best friend, Cordite told us, and a shovel his most valuable

weapon. We dug a trench around the entire farm. And around the trench we dug a series of anti-tank ditches. That’s what Cordite called them, even though we never expected to fight against tanks. But they worked just as well against trucks, Cordite assured us. They were narrow and deep and hidden, so when the trucks fell in they could never get out.

We manned our trenches with three machine guns Ratchet dis-assembled from Bullet Magnet. Let Axel drive around in his fancy trucks, Cordite told us, spraying and praying and wasting ammo. We’d be safe and secure in our trench, stationary and stable and able to aim, popping up to finish them off whenever they drove into one of our ditches. It would be a massacre.

But I was disappointed. I never got to even touch a gun. So I looked for something else to do. I knew Ratchet and Telly had designed an ethanol still, and I knew it was still a very long way from complete. But when I went looking for them, I only found Cagney, greasy from trying to put together various pipes and hoses. She didn’t see me as I approached; her attention was focused in the opposite direction. She kept looking up to see the men working in the ditches, their bodies silhouetted by the setting sun. She picked out Cordite’s unmistakable form and stared at it until I interrupted her thoughts. “How come you get to have a real name?”

Cagney jumps with a start as Nicole sits down beside the former Marine M.P. and hands her a glass of water. “Whattaya mean?”

“Maverik, Tex, Ratchet, those aren’t real names. Cagney is. How come?”

Cagney took a long drink before responding. “It’s not. My real name is Holly.”

“Holly? That’s pretty.”

“Thanks.”

“So why Cagney?”

Cagney smiled.  “It was a show about two female cops, their names were Cagney and Lacey. Since I’m military police Cordite thought it would be funny to call me Cagney and her,” she nodded to the dog, “…Lacey.”

“So are they all jokes?”

“That’s right.”

“Maverik?”

“Character from an old movie.”

“Ratchet?”

“A videogame Cordite played as a kid.”

Cagney paused and chuckled. “Not really named after anything. It’s just Cordite always says ‘nice shootin’, Tex.’ So the name stuck. If we ever get a new gunner he’ll probably be named Tex, too.”

“And what about Cordite?”

“Burns slow but watch out when he explodes.”

“I could see that.” I noticed her gaze move back to him in the distance. “You like him, don’ you?”

“Don’t have to like him, he’s the boss.”

“Boss?”

“He outranks me.”

“But you like him, anyway. Not like a boss.” I noticed her face start to get red. “don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

“Well, sometimes I wish it was a secret.”

“How come? You’re pretty. I bet he likes you, too.”

“Thanks. You’re sweet. But he likes someone else.” Cagney got up and brushed the dirt off her butt before changing the subject.  “Come on, I want to show you something.”

Curious, I followed her out past the trench line. There Cagney stopped and crouched down. “This is what I wanted to show you.” She brushed away some dirt to reveal a plastic case buried just under the soil’s surface.”

“What is it?” I reached out to touch it but she moved my hand away.

“Anti-tank mine. See, tanks don’t have much armor underneath them. So one of the most dangerous things for a tank…for us…is a mine.”

“So how do you avoid them?”

“With her.” Cagney nodded toward Lacey. “She’s been trained to sniff out mines and IED’s. That’s how we found this one.” Cagney nodded toward the mine.  “It’s Chinese, Type 72. I’ve buried a few more around here, too. American ones, Russian ones.”

“Why? Axel doesn’t have tanks.”

“No, but they’ll blow up a pick up truck just as easy.” Cagney looked me in the eye, then, to make sure I understood the danger. “And they’ll blow up people, too. Which is why you and your friends can’t ever come out past the trench line, not without telling me first. If you need to come out here, tell me, and I’ll guide you past the mines.”

“I’d never leave anyway.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous out there.”

Cagney nodded in agreement. “Well, maybe if we do our jobs right, it won’t be for much longer.”

And for the first time since the war I felt secure. For the first time I allowed myself to hope. We had a tank protecting us, now, and nothing could destroy a tank.

But we should have known ours was not the only tank out there.