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The pintle-mounted 13mm machine gun on Lieutenant Gunther Lutzow-Spelinger’s tank had seen plenty of use before now- but this would be the first chance for it to shoot at a plane, as he noticed one coasting towards the captured T-15s. Driven by the building anger of the suspected Caelussians’ continuous evasion, by amazingly good luck, it seemed, he felt certain that the Judge didn’t favor <span class="mu-i">all</span> of his enemies.
To be true, Gunther had neglected anti-air marksmanship training, as most did. He wasn’t possessed of the best aim in general, and his target was far away enough that the gun sights blurred in trying to focus on the ground attack craft. A spray up from the woods, that came awfully close to the craft- the glowing shooting stars behind the approaching planes gave him a better idea of where they were. He had a feeling, though- and all he had to do was throw up a wall of lead in the right place. He held the trigger down in one place, walked the fire up, then down- the airplane was fast, but he watched the glowing tracers- and had a burst of confidence. Well placed, as it turned out, as though he couldn’t see <span class="mu-i">how</span> he hit it, the plane passed through the storm, and then began to spin out of control, spiraling like a dark over the tankers’ heads, then beyond to the northwest, out of sight.
A cheer went up amongst the platoon. While it couldn’t be seen where it went down, it most surely did.
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<span class="mu-i">“Hey. Wrath 2, do you have a visual on the other attacker?”
“Got gunned down by ground fire.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m only one off fifteen. Fucking beach boys.” </span>
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