It began as a tranquil autumn day. Like the days before, the majority of it was completely uneventful. Me, I spent it doing nothing in particular. Like most of the time, I sat in a field and mused about this and that. At one point, a little column of tanks passed me by. But they had been travelling several hundred meters from where I was sitting. They never even noticed me. By the time that evening came, I had drifted off into a nap - but a deafeningly loud noise woke me up with a start.

As a main battle tank that has thicker armor than any gun in a radius of hundreds of kilometers could ever hope to harm, few things faze me. But a roar of thunder like the one I just heard rarely fails to make me turn my gaze skywards with a vague sense of worry. For a while, my optics pierce the darkness above. I am checking for something, but it's just a habit. I'm not sure what I'm looking for. Yet, I'm convinced that I'll know it when I see it. And at the same time, something tells me that I hope this will never happen.

Right now, all I see is dense clouds. They have turned the sky a dark shade of grey, and with it my surroundings. Despite the majority of my attention revolving around this sight at the moment, something else nevertheless doesn't escape my notice. Someone is approaching me. My focus shifts. It's immediately obvious that the tank that is driving towards me right now doesn't pose the slightest threat. It is at best half of my size. I could probably pierce its armor using only my machine guns if I wanted to. Or simply crush it beneath my tracks. It would save me the one shell I'd need to take it out otherwise. 

And as I watch this lone little tank get closer and closer, I'm really starting to consider that option. It's not that I'm afraid of it. There's less than 400 meters of distance between us at this point - close enough for me to make out details of its frame. The chassis appears to be based on something rather low tech, even for this region's standards. Narrow tracks, a plain hull with very few angles and a generally crude layout. The big hatch on the upper glacis plate reminds me of a T-34, but the whole frame is too compact to be that model. I would call it stocky, even. The turret that sits on top of it is small - though not disproportionately so - and equally plain. My educated guess is that it mounts a 45 mm anti-tank cannon, though it may even be a smaller caliber than that. Summarily, I doubt that anyone but the weakest tanks would be intimidated by this fellow.

But that's exactly what bothers me about the situation. Because when you are a tank that no one is afraid of ... you have every reason to be afraid of the others. What I'm seeing right now isn't normal tank behavior. The stranger is clearly aware of my presence, yet it is heading directly towards me as fast as its little wheels can carry it. No attempt at all to be sneaky. It appears to be alone, too. I can't determine what exactly gives me the idea - but something absolutely isn't right.

I slowly turn my turret forward from its reversed resting position. My cannon locks onto the other tank. No matter where you're from, what language you speak, or how long ago you were constructed: That's a universal gesture.

It is definitely, in a way, relieving to see the stranger stop dead in its tracks at that. Whatever its intentions are, I can at least tentatively confirm that it's neither mindless nor suicidal.

While there's more thunder above, we silently stare at each other. There's a mere 82 meters between us now - much closer than I would normally allow a potentially dangerous machine to approach me. Even the fact that I feel like I might be in some kind of danger right now - and that this danger is stemming from a miniscule light tank of all things - is definitely remarkable. I don't remember the last time any being gave me that impression, but I know to always trust my instincts. They've never fooled me.

The stranger finally speaks.

"Scarecrow...?" it asks in a shaky voice.

It's clearly afraid. And because of this observation, my focus immediately shifts to the environment. My gaze scans the hills that surround us - the treeline in the distance, the hedges behind me. As my regular optics can't spot anything out of the ordinary, I switch to my thermal vision. But this yields the same result. As far as I can tell, there's only the two of us present. Which, in this particular case, isn't reassuring at all.

"What do you want?" I ask calmly, and load my cannon. What the stranger doesn't know, but should definitely suspect, is that it now has exactly 8 and a half seconds to convince me that it's not bad news.

"I just... just need your radio frequency," the stranger replies.

That is an... odd request.

"What for?"

"Please?"

I can only make assumptions about what the light tank is trying to do. Of all the possibilities, the probability that it really just wants to acquire my radio frequency is extremely low. My tone of voice as I reply again should eliminate all doubt about what's going to happen if the stranger doesn't comply with my simple suggestion:

"Leave."

The light tank doesn't move at first. It just stares, seemingly at a loss for words. But the moment I finish loading the shell into my breech, the stranger suddenly spins around and hurries away.

I keep looking after it to make sure it really departs. But even after it has disappeared behind the hills, I keep my cannon loaded. Thunder and lightning upset the sky once more, and now rain begins to fall, as well. There's only one thing I'm certain about at this very moment: I have no interest in staying where I am. Getting myself onto firm ground, in an area with better visibility seems like a solid plan.

I set myself into motion, and for the first time in many, many winters, keep a very close optic on my surroundings as I relocate.

***

The night went by in a crawl. I suppose if you're used to sleeping through it, it's easy to forget that it technically is just as long as the day. And it feels especially long when you are waiting for something to happen that ends up never happening.

A big storm raged that night. From my slightly elevated position on top of a railroad underpass, I had a good view of my surroundings. The harsh wind shook the foliage and tricked my senses into seeing hostile things that weren't actually there every now and then. In the corner of my field of view, I'd see moving silhouettes. Some of them took the shapes of animals. Some almost appeared like tanks. I couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. 

I don't know what about the scene made me feel this way. I don't remember fighting anyone during night-time recently. Or even further in the past. Most tanks aren't equipped well to fight at night - so they avoid it.

As the hours passed, it eventually stopped raining. I remained watchful, but strangely felt like the reason for it was gone.

Now, the sun is slowly rising above a soaked landscape. The leaves and stones glisten in the first rays.

Unfortunately, I also spot something else that glistens in the dawning light. Something that I'm not thrilled to see.

A small tank is scurrying about nearby. After only a few moments of watching it, I'm certain that it's the same light tank that approached me the day before. Except this time, it's obviously trying to be sneaky. I turn my cannon towards it... which it seems to notice. It quickly drives into a ditch. And seems to think I cannot see its turret still sticking out and looking at me.

As a test of my theory, I turn my cannon away again while keeping an optic on the little guy. Like I expected, it hurries out of the ditch and onwards. Curiously, though, it's not exactly getting closer to me. I watch it sneak from cover to cover, taking peeks at me.

I decidedly don't like that.

Reversing slowly, I back down the other side of the embankment. To the light tank, that effectively makes me invisible. Of course it knows I'm not simply gone. But if it wants to make sure I'm not going anywhere, it will have to come and look for me. Meanwhile, I have the advantage of my thermal sights, and I can see the trail of warmth from its engine's exhaust and its vents approach me. I wait until it starts climbing the embankment. Then, I simply drive through the underpass. Just like that, I am now behind the other tank. 

And it realizes that only as I'm already standing at the base of the embankment and aiming my cannon up at its rear. I can tell exactly in which moment it notices me - it suddenly flinches with a very audible yelp. It frantically turns around, as if its frontal armor could deflect a 105mm shell any better than its rear... and points its cannon at me in return.

From this close, I can observe a few things about the other machine. It wears a few insignias, one of them identifying it as a "he", but none of the others look familiar to me. The lower plate of the light tank's bow still has its serial number printed on, as well - even though it's already starting to fade.

Of course, none of this answers the most important question: Why is he still following me around?

Even though I didn't get a proper answer last time, I decide to ask him again.

"What do you want?"

This time, my voice is stern. It has to be clear that I'm not in the mood for games right now. That's why the other tank's answer baffles me all the more.

"I already told you!" he insists, his tone both frightened and exasperated. "I need your radio frequency!"

I frankly find it impressive in a way that he has the nerve to not only lie to me while I'm threatening to shoot him, but also makes it sound like I'm the one annoying him.

"No, you do not," I grumble.

He is lucky that I really don't think a little twerp like him is worth a shell. That doesn't mean, however, that I plan on letting him get away. I start rolling towards him, but he quickly figures out what my intention is. He hurries to turn and darts off to the side.

That gives him a head start... But here's the thing: It appears that despite my greater mass and dimensions, I am indeed faster than him. He realizes that as well. It only takes a few seconds of chasing him until I start catching up. The light tank quickly swerves onto the nearby road, probably hoping to outpace me there. But I just gain on him faster that way.

"Stop!!" he yells. I keep chasing him.

He swerves again, back off the road, makes big splashes as he drives through a bunch of puddles. As he starts zig-zagging in his panic, he does actually almost manage to shake me off. But then, he suddenly slows down dramatically. The reason for that occurs to me quickly: the heavy rain made the dirt here loose enough that the light tank's narrow tracks are failing to carry him any further. A moment later, he ends up completely stuck. I slow down as well, conscious of the possibility of getting stuck as well; however, my tracks carry me back onto the road safely.

I stand there and watch his wheels spin, his tracks slip. I hear him curse. He looks at me as if he expects me to come over and help him out of the mud. However, I have no intention of doing that. I turn to leave.

"Wait!!" he yelps. "Where are you going?!"

"That's none of your business," I reply with a frown.

He seems at a loss of words, but I hear his engine strain as I drive off.

And yet, as much as I wished it was, deep down I know that this won't be the last I've seen of him.

***

I drive for a while before I stop and turn around. Not to go back and help the light tank, of course. Climbing a little hill, I park myself on top of it and look back the way I came from. Even though it's way too far to see with the naked optic, and foliage and terrain deny me a line of sight with my gun sights, I can still faintly make out the heat signature of the light tank. He doesn't seem to have made any progress. He hasn't moved from his spot.

There's three possible things that could happen now or soon. Some scavengers or other hostiles could come along and find him, which would obviously be very unfortunate for him... but probably still more pleasant than starving. He could also manage to free himself, after all. The ground will eventually dry and if he hasn't dug himself in too far already, he might make it. The third option - the one I'm hoping to see happening - is that an ally of his will finally show up to help him. That's the only outcome of the situation that would give me some hints to the answer to my question.

Simply put, I have almost no doubt anymore that this tank is acting on behalf of someone else. This someone else, however, continues to be elusive.

It's still the early morning hours. Some animals, probably deer, are wandering across my field of view. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the bellowing of a stag, and the diligent thrumming of a woodpecker. I watch the air come alive with insects. But there is not a single sign of any other machine than myself and the stuck stranger.

An hour passes. Two hours pass. After the third hour, I slowly start to grow bored.

Whoever is supposed to come to the light tank's rescue... they're either not in a hurry at all, or somehow know that I'm watching and refuse to show themselves.

Well, I have better things to do. The game of tag earlier had my engine running a little hotter than I think it should have. An oil change might be in order.

After one last glance into the direction of the stranger, I turn around and trundle towards a new destination.