Night at the Kriegsmuseum part 6

Once I get over Hellcat’s ‘open top’ my attention begrudgingly shifts to Husaria. Hellcat and I move over to where Kopia is checking up on Husaria’s condition.
“do you think she’ll be alright?” I ask.
“most likely, I’m no doctor though.” She looks thoughtful for a second “I do remember, back in the day, there was a doctor who travelled around with my master’s group. He always wore this bird mask and kept making everyone do really strange things. Maybe one of those things can help Husaria”
I don’t interrupt her, I want to see where this is going. Hellcat looks curious as well.
“I know! That time when brother Antoni wouldn’t wake up, so the doctor ground up all sorts of things and shoved it up Antoni’s a-“
“how about, anything but that!” I exclaim, seeing where that was going and not liking it one bit
“umm, how do you feel about leeches?”
“no”
“Trepanning?”
“absolutely not!”
“Are you the doctor here?”
“You just said before you weren’t a doctor just before!”
“Fret not, I’ve got this” Kopia turn to face Husaria, who is now wide awake and looking at Kopia like she was about to put a hole in her head.
“what’s this about leeches and trepanning?” she asks accusingly
“n-nothing” Kopia stammers, breaking her doctor character immediately. Hellcat giggles at the scene.
“who the hell are you?!” Husaria attempts to jump to her feet, but falls back on her butt “and what in God’s name is going on with you shirt?”
“76mm Gun Motor Carriage M18 ‘Hellcat’ at your service, welcome to my tent” she looks over at the sad state of her shelter. “who are you guys?”
“I’m the new night guard, you can call me Anon, the *doctor* here is Kopia, and she’s Husaria”
M67 rolls into the clearing, if a tank could look unenthusiastic and tired, this would be it: gun at max depression and moving at a crawl.
“Hey Zippo!” Hellcat calls as she bounds over to meet M67. I let Kopia continue checking on Husaria and go to see what’s going on with ‘Zippo’. The giest in question is seated on a few crates, looking very lethargic. M67 looks up at Hellcat
“fuel… please” she gestures weakly at an open crate of jerry cans.
“how do you always run out of fuel so quickly?” Hellcat sighs, as if this is a common occurance.
“T-54’s a… stubborn…. bitch”
“more like you don’t bother refuelling properly, besides, why can’t you at least try to get along?” she says as she retrieves a can
“I can’t just.. flash my boobs.. like you can” M67 growls, her jealousy showing very clearly in her voice. Hellcat hands her the jerrycan. M67 immediately knocks the cap off and starts gulping down the fuel. I know it’s fine, but seeing a girl just start drinking petrol still makes me want to stop her. She finishes her can and places it on the ground.
“now go put a canopy on, you show-off”
In an act of defiance Hellcat shifts her shirt to show even more than before. She might as well just take off the shirt at this point! I’m not complaining though . M67 lunges at her with the a force known only to jealous women.
“My camp, my rules!” Hellcat sings as she dances out of M67’s reach. She notices me moving toward them and stops teasing poor, jealous M67.
“hey Anon! what are you three going to do now?”
 I tell Hellcat and M67 about our failed expedition to the German territory, and how it lead to our encounter with them.
“so, is the plan still to get to the Nazis?”
“yeah, the goal is to get them to stop fighting the allies”
Hellcat looks at me like I just said I could do a triple backflip through a hoop of fire. She thinks about it for a second.
“you know what, I’ll help you. If the axis and allies stop fighting, then it should quieten down in other places too”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve got nothing better to do than knock out T-54 and her posse for Zippo” she laughs
“its not my fault that I was built a flamethrower variant!” interjects M67
Kopia and Husaria are finished playing doctor and appear at my side.
“What’s the plan captain?” says Husaria, sounding perfectly recovered.
I inform them of my arrangement with Hellcat. She doesn’t seem to be very happy about it. I can see her eyes shift between Hellcat’s chest and her own, which is comparable to sheet metal. Now she is definitely unhappy.
“well!” I address the group “there’s only so much time in a night, we’d better get going”
“hold on! what about me?” says M67
Hellcat drapes her arm over M67’s shoulder and pulls her in close
“you can either stay out of trouble or go molest the commie infantry like you were designed to do, and stop provoking enemy tanks when you know you can’t beat them”
“o-okay” she stammers
“Alright!” Hellcat releases her and transforms “Let’s get moving!”. Husaria and Kopia climb in first, taking the gunner and loader positions. I take the commander position again. Husaria immediately starts fiddling with the gun controls, traversing the turret and messing with the sight. Kopia starts playing with what I pray isn’t a real high explosive shell. I kick them both to get them to stop fucking with our only ally. They both begrudgingly cease their fuckery. I turn and wave goodbye to M67 and Hellcat takes off into the bush.
As we speed along the roadway we get the occasional hail of bullets from concealed VCs. I return fire with the commander’s .50 cal with three different results: Vietnamese screeching, angry Russian name-calling and in a few cases “hostiles! No wait, it’s fucking friendly fire again, FUCKING AGAIN”. I felt a little bit bad for those last ones. A thought occurs to me.
“hey Hellcat, I thought you went out of service after Korea, so what are you doing here with the Vietnam stuff?” I ask over the internal radio
“I’m not really sure, I think the storage Ivans fucked up and they’re too lazy to move me”
“the storage Ivans?”
“there’s a group of Russians who work the background doing all kinds of things, maintenance, placement, that sort of stuff.”
“do they know about you waffengeists?”
“I’m not sure if all of them do, though I’ve heard that a few talk to the ones going through maintenance, though that might just mean they’re crazy”
“alright”
We break out of the jungle into a clearing similar to the one we entered from. from all the gunfire, swearing and the shouts of “over the top!” I assume we’ve made it to the infantry section.