(NOTE: This brief scene follows shortly after and refers back to Swisscheesed.)

Bastian Hertz lays across the hood, glassing out the forest. "That… that was terrible," he mutters.

Erwin snorts, "What about it?" he inquires, moving to sit on a folding chair.

Bastian Hertz squints through the binoculars, then shakes his head. "We had maneuverability, but they had the terrain."

Erwin snorts, "We didn't have maneuverability… we're stuck here in this clearing.. we couldn't move past that tank, a bottle neck here…"

Bastian Hertz cranes his neck back. "Thus the term, 'they had the terrain,' Herr Feldwebel. If we had the terrain, we could have driven circles round them." Glaring, he returns to his scopes.

Erwin looks at his map some more, "Well, it will be up to the infantry to get across that bridge, we can't do it in a little scout car."

Bastian Hertz squeezes the fine Zeiss binoculars. In the day of plastic, they may have broken. "We have an rapid-fire cannon, a hundred and fifty-five horsepower engine, and we know exactly where the Polish armor will be." The scout wiggles, angling round the cabin to peer in another direction.

Erwin chuckles and looks around, "But we cannot enter a forest.. so we're forced to funnel.. and I don't want to drive straight into a polish tank again."

In level tones, Bastian makes his case. "The first real hit scrapped that toy tank. Only an idiot would suggest we stand and duke it out with them, that would be like me getting in the ring with my brother Heinrich." The glasses are lowered, and Bastian sits up on the hood to peer at the Feldwebel. "Didn't they teach 'hit-and-run' in the recon training of your day?"

Erwin chuckles, "You don't hit and run along a road with trees on either side… that's a job for the panzers or artillery." he says, "And besides, it would be like hitting a bear with tiny pebbles"

"What damned battle were you just in?!" Bastian roars, launching the binoculars at the vehicle commander. "You have an excuse for /every/ valid tactic in the book, 'Herr Feldwebel!' You're the sort of defeatist who cost us the Great War!" Leather gloves creak at the tight conflicts that make his fists clench and flex.

Erwin raises an eyebrow at that, "What.. did you just say?" he says, rising up to turn to Bastian. The Feldwebel ducks slightly as the binoculars sail past him, "THAT IS IT!" he bellows, turning to glare at a pair of Privates who had been watching, until now, "You two, take this Schutze back to the village and confine him to quarters, his talk will not be tolerated in MY unit!"

Bastian Hertz straightens his shoulders. "A mere formality, Feldwebel!" He smartly pivots, presenting himself to the Schutzen and allowing them to take him to town. There's little to be said, so he doesn't; Bstian simply tries to retain as much military decorum as he can manage, staring ramrod straight ahead as though on parade.

Erwin watches him go, "Hand him over to the Feldgendarmie… then return to your posts." he orders the escorts, turning to return to his chair, pondering how he should punish the insulent privant.

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