The horsepower he commanded was always the first of many rushes he felt when the engine first rumbled to life.
His was an iron horse rider. Invulnerable as all hell, this he knew. Commander Puddy surveyed the exterior, ‘As long as they had their ass covered no one was going to take them out’ he thought as his gloved hand slid over the armor plating, leaving a dusty trail.
He continued down the M1 Abrams long side, surveying the flash marks from RPG rounds, dismissing each quickly, he inspected the reactive armor, checked treads and marveled once more at the profile of his baby.
Now for the real rush he thought, the ability to deal death in a cocoon with men he trusted to do their job faster and more efficiently than any other crew he knew. “Load up” he called out over the din of the other M1 and the smaller M2 idling nearby, giving the tankers signal to head out. Puddy and his men, jerked down the street to aid their Infantry brothers.