Koume could feel a headache coming on.
It was the third day of the team's classroom qualification; though since Instructor Chouno had arrived on a Friday, it had actually been four days since then. The refresher courses Koume and Miho had had to take on their tanks had been, just as they'd predicted, easy. The two of them had handed their slim packets in to Chouno yesterday when they'd arrived at Hangar D. The instructor had grinned, and replaced them with two mountains of requisition forms and scratch paper.
So now the Captain and Vice-Captain of Ooarai Senshado sat together at the table at the head of their impromptu classroom, attempting to figure out just how much in the way of supplies their little team would need for the five weeks between the end of the classroom period and the start of the National Tournament, while most of said team quietly rustled through their own packets at their desks.
Koume would never have believed shopping could be so unpleasant.
Okay. So. The 38t has an ammunition stowage capacity of ninety rounds for the main gun. She'd decided to start with the needs of her own vehicle first, before she and Miho moved on to more unfamiliar territory. Two separate practice sessions each day, two hours in the morning before school and four hours in the afternoon after school. We'll probably ramp up the afternoon session to six hours during the tournament but we'll drive off the side of that bridge when we get to it. Five days a week.
Assume we shoot off an average of a third of the magazine in the morning sessions and the remainder in the afternoon sessions. Meaning that we shoot off a full magazine a day, ninety shells per day. Ninety times five is... She opened the calculator app on her phone and tapped in the numbers. Four hundred and fifty. Four hundred and fifty shells of 37.2 mm Skoda A7 (L/47.8) ammunition expenditure from my tank per week of practice.
Except I think Miho wanted to set aside one day per week for just nothing but dedicated gunnery practice. So double the ammunition expenditure for one day. So ninety times four plus one hundred and eighty per week. Stretch that out for five weeks. [(90x4) + 180] x 5 is... 2700.
2700 shells of 37.2 mm Skoda A7 from my tank in practice between the start of practice and the start of the national tournament.
I think.
Except I haven't taken the qualifier and any practice matches we can squeeze in into account...
OH GODS WHY IS MATH A THING THAT EXISTS
***
It was another fifteen minutes before Koume was completely sure she had an acceptable figure for her tank's projected main gun ammunition expenditures in the immediate future. Then it was on to machine gun ammunition, which was much harder, given the larger numbers inherent (full load for the tank's two machine guns was 2550 bullets) and how much more irregular the usage of the machine guns would be. Then after that it was fuel expenditure, which was harder to figure than the previous two put together. She didn't know yet how far they'd be typically driving during maneuver practice, or how much extra the rough terrain in the parkland would drain compared to paved surfaces, not to mention little things like idling in the queue for stationary gunnery...
It was too much for right now. She dropped her pencil and stretched in her seat, then massaged her aching forehead.
Besides her, Miho looked up from where she'd been hunched over her own papers. "You stuck?" She kept her voice quiet, so as not to disturb the rest of the team.
"Yes." Koume made sure to keep her own voice down as well.
"On what?"
"Gas."
YOU ARE READING
Turtles
FanfictionStaying at Kuromorimine was not an option. Koume Akaboshi followed her best friend to Ooarai. She gave up Senshado... but it didn't give up her.
