Chapter Two Thousand Ninety-Five
9th October 1971
Over the Andes Mountains
The Tiger E accelerated smoothly as it cruised over the Andes mountains. Occasionally, there was the bump of turbulence. As the mountains pushed wind aloft. Here it was quiet, and he could think without having to be bothered with anyone else’s problems at that moment.
It had been a few days earlier when it had occurred to Reinaldo that he needed to start considering his exit plan. Things were definitely going badly for Chile, the scuttlebutt that he had been hearing was that President Allende had reached out to his Argentine counterpart to begin peace talks, the same way that every other war in South America had ended over the last few decades and had been told to piss off. President Raul Martínez of Argentina knew that he had a chance to settle the various border disputes between the two countries for keeps and the wasn’t going to end until he got everything he wanted. The joke that had flown around the mess table that morning had been that the peace terms from Argentina would include Allende giving Martínez a blowjob on International Television. When he had heard that, Reinaldo had realized that it was coming in a metaphorical sense and the other men in his Squadron had no idea that it wouldn’t just be El Presidente wearing knee pads. They would be as well.
Reinaldo had absolutely no desire to stick around for that.
Still, Reinaldo knew that he couldn’t just pull stakes and leave. Going over the hill wouldn’t go over well with the mood the Chileans seemed to be in. They would probably shoot him as a deserter if he tried. So, he was flying a ground attack mission that had been deemed critical at a time when he knew he should have turned north and made for Bolivia.
With the current advance of the German Army having hit the Pacific Coast, their Commanders must have discovered that they had gone down a blind alley. But if they could punch through the mountains in one place, they could surely do it elsewhere. Intelligence said that the forces in question were redeploying north up the Argentine Route 40 and the job of Reinaldo’s Squadron was to slow them down. Rolling his plane into a steep dive, Reinaldo would see what he could do about that. One of the key advantages of flying a Tiger was that it was fast enough that no one could hear you coming before you bombed them into oblivion. Keeping the sun to his back, Reinaldo lined up with the road. Like shooting fish in a barrel…
Federal Route 40 near La Amarga, Neuquén Province, Argentina
The Argentinians loved the sight of Ferdinand whenever the old Flakpanther rolled by. The sight of the old, repurposed Panther hull with the oscillating turret and radar array installed. The image of Ferdinand the Bull from the old pacifist tale that had been turned into a cartoon painted on the hull was in stark contrast to the twin 30mm revolving-chamber autocannons in the turret. Whenever they entered a town, the crew could always see the people laughing about the story of the bull who had preferred to sit in the shade of a cork tree and smell flowers as opposed to butting heads with the other young bulls. Through a series of events involving a bee sting and false impressions, Ferdinand finds himself in a bullfight. Only to outrage the Matador and delight the crowd with his passive nature, “winning” the fight in the process.
The truth was that Ferdinand had been painted there long before two of the three members of the crew had even been born and the reason for it had long been forgotten. Paul, the youngest, had become the gunner because that was where the opening for a new crewman had been when he had been assigned to the 91st Air Defense Battalion. He had known little about radar or autocannons at the moment that Vit, Ferdinand’s Commander had thrown the manual at him and told him he had the trip across the Atlantic to Argentina to learn. Aust, the driver had just smirked. He later learned that Aust and Vit went way back, and he would remain the odd one out until they got past it.
Today though, all three of them found themselves in a strange situation. Their Flakpanzer Platoon had been sent to provide air defense or fire support for the Japanese Expeditionary Division depending on exactly what shit the Japanese soldiers got themselves into. It was a somewhat daunting task they found themselves in. Not because the Japanese were bad soldiers, far from it, they just didn’t let things like impossible odds or certain death get in the way of them getting into a fight. There had already been a few hairy situations that they had found themselves in so far in this campaign.
Looking out the top hatch of the turret, Paul could see them on either side of Ferdinand. Their kit was kept as light as possible, with them taking pride in the fact that they had the smallest logistical chain of any Army in the world. Rice, raisins, and whatever was unlucky enough to find itself in the stewpot were what they said sustained them. Even their rifles, which had clearly been influenced by the Mauser G44, had been designed to suit their ideas about rapid movement in warfare.
“We just got reports of enemy aircraft in this sector” The Lieutenant’s voice over the radio, “Keep an eye on the horizon and I had better not catch any of you sleeping.”
“You heard the man Paul” Vit yelled over the intercom despite him sitting less than a meter behind Paul.
“Sure thing, David” Paul said as he was flipping the switches to turn on the targeting radar. He knew that Vit hated it when people called him by his proper name, so it was what he did whenever Vit annoyed him. The search radar started scanning the horizon and they waited for a moment.
“We got contacts on bearing…” Vit started to say, but Paul ignored him. He could see the targets on the gunner’s repeater screen and was already turning the turret in that direction.
In the corner of Paul’s eye, he could see that the Japanese had noticed that the turret was moving, and they were looking skyward as they shouldered their rifles. If they were a German unit, they would have already been running for whatever cover they could find on either side of the road. Unbelievable.
Paul heard the tone as the targeting radar locked on the lead contact and the computer made several calculations to find the targeting solution as the contact closed rapidly with them. When a green light lit up the scope, Paul pulled the trigger and the two 30mm cannons fired a burst skyward. 1400 rounds per minute moving at 1100 meters per second, the shells raced towards where the airplane would be. If the shells didn’t hit it directly then the proximity fuses would seriously ruin its Pilot’s Day. Paul was dimly aware of the sound of the explosion as the supersonic fighter plane was turned into an expanding fireball, he was already focused on the next contact.
9th October 1971
Over the Andes Mountains
The Tiger E accelerated smoothly as it cruised over the Andes mountains. Occasionally, there was the bump of turbulence. As the mountains pushed wind aloft. Here it was quiet, and he could think without having to be bothered with anyone else’s problems at that moment.
It had been a few days earlier when it had occurred to Reinaldo that he needed to start considering his exit plan. Things were definitely going badly for Chile, the scuttlebutt that he had been hearing was that President Allende had reached out to his Argentine counterpart to begin peace talks, the same way that every other war in South America had ended over the last few decades and had been told to piss off. President Raul Martínez of Argentina knew that he had a chance to settle the various border disputes between the two countries for keeps and the wasn’t going to end until he got everything he wanted. The joke that had flown around the mess table that morning had been that the peace terms from Argentina would include Allende giving Martínez a blowjob on International Television. When he had heard that, Reinaldo had realized that it was coming in a metaphorical sense and the other men in his Squadron had no idea that it wouldn’t just be El Presidente wearing knee pads. They would be as well.
Reinaldo had absolutely no desire to stick around for that.
Still, Reinaldo knew that he couldn’t just pull stakes and leave. Going over the hill wouldn’t go over well with the mood the Chileans seemed to be in. They would probably shoot him as a deserter if he tried. So, he was flying a ground attack mission that had been deemed critical at a time when he knew he should have turned north and made for Bolivia.
With the current advance of the German Army having hit the Pacific Coast, their Commanders must have discovered that they had gone down a blind alley. But if they could punch through the mountains in one place, they could surely do it elsewhere. Intelligence said that the forces in question were redeploying north up the Argentine Route 40 and the job of Reinaldo’s Squadron was to slow them down. Rolling his plane into a steep dive, Reinaldo would see what he could do about that. One of the key advantages of flying a Tiger was that it was fast enough that no one could hear you coming before you bombed them into oblivion. Keeping the sun to his back, Reinaldo lined up with the road. Like shooting fish in a barrel…
Federal Route 40 near La Amarga, Neuquén Province, Argentina
The Argentinians loved the sight of Ferdinand whenever the old Flakpanther rolled by. The sight of the old, repurposed Panther hull with the oscillating turret and radar array installed. The image of Ferdinand the Bull from the old pacifist tale that had been turned into a cartoon painted on the hull was in stark contrast to the twin 30mm revolving-chamber autocannons in the turret. Whenever they entered a town, the crew could always see the people laughing about the story of the bull who had preferred to sit in the shade of a cork tree and smell flowers as opposed to butting heads with the other young bulls. Through a series of events involving a bee sting and false impressions, Ferdinand finds himself in a bullfight. Only to outrage the Matador and delight the crowd with his passive nature, “winning” the fight in the process.
The truth was that Ferdinand had been painted there long before two of the three members of the crew had even been born and the reason for it had long been forgotten. Paul, the youngest, had become the gunner because that was where the opening for a new crewman had been when he had been assigned to the 91st Air Defense Battalion. He had known little about radar or autocannons at the moment that Vit, Ferdinand’s Commander had thrown the manual at him and told him he had the trip across the Atlantic to Argentina to learn. Aust, the driver had just smirked. He later learned that Aust and Vit went way back, and he would remain the odd one out until they got past it.
Today though, all three of them found themselves in a strange situation. Their Flakpanzer Platoon had been sent to provide air defense or fire support for the Japanese Expeditionary Division depending on exactly what shit the Japanese soldiers got themselves into. It was a somewhat daunting task they found themselves in. Not because the Japanese were bad soldiers, far from it, they just didn’t let things like impossible odds or certain death get in the way of them getting into a fight. There had already been a few hairy situations that they had found themselves in so far in this campaign.
Looking out the top hatch of the turret, Paul could see them on either side of Ferdinand. Their kit was kept as light as possible, with them taking pride in the fact that they had the smallest logistical chain of any Army in the world. Rice, raisins, and whatever was unlucky enough to find itself in the stewpot were what they said sustained them. Even their rifles, which had clearly been influenced by the Mauser G44, had been designed to suit their ideas about rapid movement in warfare.
“We just got reports of enemy aircraft in this sector” The Lieutenant’s voice over the radio, “Keep an eye on the horizon and I had better not catch any of you sleeping.”
“You heard the man Paul” Vit yelled over the intercom despite him sitting less than a meter behind Paul.
“Sure thing, David” Paul said as he was flipping the switches to turn on the targeting radar. He knew that Vit hated it when people called him by his proper name, so it was what he did whenever Vit annoyed him. The search radar started scanning the horizon and they waited for a moment.
“We got contacts on bearing…” Vit started to say, but Paul ignored him. He could see the targets on the gunner’s repeater screen and was already turning the turret in that direction.
In the corner of Paul’s eye, he could see that the Japanese had noticed that the turret was moving, and they were looking skyward as they shouldered their rifles. If they were a German unit, they would have already been running for whatever cover they could find on either side of the road. Unbelievable.
Paul heard the tone as the targeting radar locked on the lead contact and the computer made several calculations to find the targeting solution as the contact closed rapidly with them. When a green light lit up the scope, Paul pulled the trigger and the two 30mm cannons fired a burst skyward. 1400 rounds per minute moving at 1100 meters per second, the shells raced towards where the airplane would be. If the shells didn’t hit it directly then the proximity fuses would seriously ruin its Pilot’s Day. Paul was dimly aware of the sound of the explosion as the supersonic fighter plane was turned into an expanding fireball, he was already focused on the next contact.
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