Oh, oh! This is an excellent opportunity to repost this fantastic gem about the Ratte!
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He sat on the rock and stared at the horizon. Somewhere artillery was thundering away. Tommies, by the sound of it, with those damned belt-fed 25-lbers again. Then he looked up again. No Jabos. Not yet, anyway.
Hearing the sound of swearing diminish a little he walked over to the side of the Landkreuzer and then peered into the hatch. “Well?”
“Sorry sir, the engine should be repaired in a moment or two.” The sergeant wiped his hands on a bit of rag and then looked at him worriedly. “They haven’t changed their minds about taking the flak guns off the top of this thing have they?”
“No.”
“Damn it.” He sighed. “Right. We’re ready sir.”
He nodded wearily and then walked around to the front of the wretched thing. “Start him up Kranz.”
“Yes sir.” A giant red button was pushed and after a moment the huge engine roared into life. “It’s working sir!”
“Get him into gear!”
“Um… yes sir.” There was a groaning noise and then the Landkreuzer crept forward three inches, before there was an almighty bang underneath.
“Damn it, what now?” He walked back to the hatch and then peered in. The sergeant could be seen opening an inspection hatch on the floor. He looked in, swore violently and then closed it again. “It’s buggered sir. Clutch exploded again.”
“What again?”
“Yes sir.”
“How long to repair it?”
“Two days at the factory.”
“Right.” He sighed and then walked to the other end of the Landkreuzer, where a bored looking man was standing with a clipboard. “We’re returning this thing to the factory.”
The man sighed. “You signed for it earlier, you can’t send it back again.”
“I signed for a functioning vehicle. We’ve travelled six feet in six days, during which time we’ve blown two clutches, a drive shaft and three sets of tracks. All to go six feet. And it’s not left the bloody factory.”
“The front of the vehicle is outside the doors, so you’re out of the factory!”
“No it’s not, it’s still in!”
“Strictly speaking it's out, as-”
“Oh shut up and repair it again.” He paused and sniffed. Smoke was pouring out of one of the hatches and he saw the sergeant hurriedly get out of the Landcreuzer. “What’s wrong now?”
“It’s on fire again sir.”
“Bugger – well, put it out again. That’s the third time today.”
“Yes sir.”
He looked back at the man with the clipboard. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“It keeps breaking down and catching fire!”
“Yes, but it’s a war-winning weapon. Have the Amis got anything like it? Have the Reds?”
“No, but it’s useless if it doesn’t bloody work!”
“We’ll patch it up, you’ll be in Paris in a week!”
“It took us a week to get the nose of the damn thing out the door!”
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose for a long moment. At which point there was a ‘schonk’ noise and something groaned inside the giant vehicle. “What now?”
“Secondary backup main gun just fell off again sir.”
“Well, stick it back on again.”
“Can’t, we’ve run out of string sir.”
He looked up at the heavens. And then he sighed and finally gave up. He turned and trudged over to the knot of fascinated men in khaki who had been there all morning. “Alright. I give up. We surrender.”
“Are you sure? We could give you a little more time,” said the British Major.
“No, you’ve been more than fair. It was a bloody silly idea from the start anyway. Takes hours to load the main gun for a start. And as it’s currently pointing towards Hamburg there’s no point in firing it even if it was loaded. You have to turn the entire bloody thing to aim it.” He paused. “What are you going to do with it?”
“I think that someone said that there’s a plan to drop it on Tokyo and end the war.”
He thought about it. “Yes, that should probably do the job.”