JOTL – Bradley and the Ants.

As the Bradley Fighting Vehicle sat on the hill, it seemed like hours went by as the 25mm bushmaster auto cannon spit out shells that tore through the advancing stream of ants. But it could not have been hours, the ammo in the chamber boxes ran out and the gun silenced. The smaller machine gun mounted next to the 25mm was useless against this newest threat.
Now the only sound was the whining of the engine a useless struggle to retreat.
The ants were faster, and the world seemed to be a living stream of them, a torrent bearing down on the technology developed for a radically different world, a world that was gone. No longer was the enemy another human, with soft fleshy skin that was not designed for the rigors of war. Now the enemy came as a biological tank.
They didn’t need vast artillery, although we had no idea in those early days just what kind of rapid advancements the insects would make as we shrank away. Desperately trying to flee like water climbing up a straw in a futile effort of balance restoration.
From our observation post, the three of us watch as the sea of ants slammed into the Bradley. The noise that those mandibles made as they clashed against the hull, catching on bolt heads and carrying handles for the armor skirt. Pieces began to fall off like bark being stripped away from a tree.
It was like a thousand claws on a large chalkboard.
View scopes were torn off as they began focusing on the hatches, having already torn off vast amounts of metal.

The few dozen working on the tracks had already severed them and several ants were pulling away pieces of track.

The Bradley’s doom fell upon it in only minutes. The violence and speed left dozens of ants killing or maiming their own ranks, limbs flew as armor panels were torn off and tossed behind the workers as if shoving a hole as tossing the dirt behind you.

The turret was spun in the last-ditch effort, and it displaced a few ants on top of the vehicle, but they were just as quickly replaced by a new flood, this one snapping off the turret that just moments ago was killing their ranks.

Never again would this armored vehicle or its crew of three make a contribution to the battlefield. And we were struck with the realization that we were alone, deep behind an enemy line that almost blurs reality, can you have lines if they own all the land under your feet?

We use to revile in air superiority. Fighting was mostly restricted to a three-dimensional plane. Now everything was turned upside down.