Atlas Seventeen - Imperial Armour.

Three and a Half Miles

The Demolisher had stopped moving at 1643 hours.
It had taken a direct hit somewhere forward of the left track, and the explosion had torn away two road wheels, buckled the track assembly and driven half a metre of ferrocrete into the hull. The tank had lurched sideways, slewed through the ash and come to rest beneath the broken shell of an Administratum transit station.

Its gun was still pointing towards the enemy.
That was why its company commander had not ordered it abandoned.
The other Demolishers pulled back around it, engines growling as they formed a ragged defensive crescent amongst the ruins. Their sponsons and demolisher cannons traversed outwards. Infantry spilled from Chimeras and took firing positions behind shattered masonry. The vox became a snarl of range calls, ammunition reports and shouted warnings. Somewhere beyond the smoke, something large fired and the entire street shook.

Then the Atlas arrived.

It came forward alone, heavy bolter barking as the driver picked his way through the wreckage. The recovery vehicle looked absurdly small amongst the Demolishers, but the crew did not seem concerned. The commander stood half out of his hatch, one hand gripping the edge of the cupola as he watched the disabled tank.

"She's still alive," he said.
The driver looked at the wreck.
"She's a Demolisher."
"That's what I said."
They went to work.

The first chain took four minutes to secure. The second took seven. The third had to be dragged through a gap in the rubble while fragments of masonry fell around them. The Atlas reversed until the recovery boom hung over the Demolisher's shattered rear quarter...its engine screaming as the winch strained against the weight. The crew of the Demolisher remained inside their vehicle throughout, feeding information over the vox while the Atlas crew worked outside.

Every few seconds, someone fired.
Sometimes it was one of the surrounding Demolishers.

Sometimes it was the enemy.

Once, something hit the ruins less than thirty metres away and showered the Atlas with powdered masonry. The driver flinched. The commander did not. He simply watched the cable.

"Again," he said.

The winch groaned.
The Atlas dug itself deeper into the ash.
For several seconds nothing happened.

Then the Demolisher moved.

It came reluctantly, dragged inch by inch from the wreckage, its ruined track carving a black trench behind it. The Atlas strained forward, tracks biting into the broken ground. The defensive cordon tightened around them. Demolisher cannons fired over the recovery vehicle, great hammer-blows of sound that shook the Atlas's hull.

Three and a half miles.
That was all the distance between the battlefield and the motor pool.
Three and a half miles.

The commander would later remember it as the longest journey of his life.

They crawled backwards through the industrial district, towing seventy tonnes of crippled battle tank behind them. Every corner became a problem. Every crater threatened to swallow the Atlas. Every sudden burst of gunfire made the crew of the Demolisher wonder if they were going to be abandoned after all.
But they kept moving.

The front line slowly receded behind them.
Smoke became haze. Gunfire became distant thunder. The ruined manufactoria gave way to prefabricated workshops, ammunition stores and the familiar barricades of the rear area. At last, the Atlas crossed the motor pool perimeter and the recovery crew heard a voice over the vox.

"Recovery vehicle, identify."
The commander pressed the transmit rune.
"Atlas Seventeen. One recovered Demolisher. Returning to depot."
There was a pause.
"Copy, Seventeen. Bring her in."
The commander looked at the ruined tank behind them.
"That's the plan."

*****

I've been sitting on this post for a while as I printed and painted this vehicle several months ago, just life seemed to find a way to get in the way of absolutely everything recently.

The Atlas ARV from Forge World was always a favourite vehicle they made. Not a full battleline tank, one of those more interesting vehicles which very rarely is seen on tbe tabletop.

When I found an STL for a "close enough" version, I was quick to download, get the built plate going and pull this little lot off the printer:

A selection of sandbags, spare tank tracks, storage bins and fuel drums were also pulled from the stowage collections to add to the vehicle.

With a first pass at her, adding sandbags and equipment where feasible and realistic for the crew, I had this:

The straps holding the tank tracks are made from 0.3mm plasticcard, the same as the bin holding the jerry cans.

The chain is a heavier gauge 2mm linkage I bought specifically for this project, normally on Marines I use a smaller 0.5mm linkage, but I wanted this to look heavy weight in order to tow wrecked tanks and not snap.

Some 1.2mm linkage chain can be seen holding the oil drum on the side of the Atlas.

Adding some more resin cast stowage rolls, backpacks and equipment boxes, I started with the weathering.

The accumulated mud is made from a mixture of AK Sandy Desert paste, PVA glue and sand mixed together. The mixture was slathered on around the tracks and lower hull, piling a little more at the rear of the track protectors, where naturally the dirt would accumulate as the tank drives.

The securing hook was added from misprint armour sections from another project.

Fashioned to shape and the towing chain wrapped around it securely, stowed like we do the securing chains at work.

One the painting stage started i got a bit carried away and didn't take any photos of the progress, instead skipping to the completed tank.

Believe it or not, the underlying colours are actually Mechanicus Standard Grey and Ulthuan Grey stippled on in camo stripes.

A lot of the softening comes from the later layer of Ushabti Bone and a little Pallid Wych Flesh dry brushed over the entire tank.

Then Nuln Oil and Agrax Earthshade used to create oil pools and spills from around bearing casings* and especially the top of the chain winch.

Any exhaust and radiator grille also got a stipple coat of Corvus Black, with some dry brushed above it to create soot build up.

This shows the winch in a lot more detail, showing the oily sheen i managed to create with successive washes.

I deliberately stayed away from adding any squadron or regimental markings as the vehicle is "buttoned up" with all hatches closed, I figure I can make most of my planned armour generic enough and just swap top hatches with different tank Commanders to represent Mordian, Steel Legion, Cadian regiments, etc.

Lastly, a photo with a Death Korps Commissar I painted for a challenge, to show the relative size of the Atlas. 

ATLAS RECOVERY TANK

Crew: 3

Weight: 43 tonnes

Engine: MR230 V12 Multi-Fuel

Road Speed: 34 km/h

Cross-country: 20 km/h

Armament: Heavy Bolter

Recovery capacity: In excess of 60 tonnes

Primary role: Battlefield recovery

*Better be getting that bearing changed if it's got that much of a leak! Also, I only just realised I mirrored the tank, giving the same bearing a leaky hub on each track unit. Apparently Atlas Seventeen has two identical problems.

Legally distinct enough from a GW Leman Russ hull, I think the silhouette reads as that family of vehicles, so she will fit into the army as a whole. 

*****

The Atlas finally rolled to a halt beneath the harsh lumen strips of the motor pool.
For a few seconds, none of the three crew moved.
Then the driver killed the engine.
The sudden silence was almost painful.

Haines climbed out first. His uniform was grey with ash, his face streaked with sweat and grime. He stood beside the Atlas and stared at the recovered Demolisher as though he had only just realised how large it was.
"Three and a half miles," he said.
Locke, the commander climbed down beside him.
"Closer to four."
"Feels like thirty."
Marxse, their driver looked at him.
"You walked three hundred metres once."
Haines turned.
"Four hundred."
"You complained."
"I had a blister."
That settled it, with sighs and laughter.

They left the Atlas to the depot crew and walked towards the mess hall with the peculiar loose-limbed gait of men whose bodies had only just discovered that they were no longer required to be frightened. Inside, the noise was different. No engines. No guns. Just voices, cutlery and the metallic clatter of stainless-steel trays.

The queue moved slowly.
Haines leaned into the man ahead of him and got an elbow in return. He shoved back. Someone behind them laughed. They were surrounded by maintenance crews, ammunition handlers and off-duty tankers, men and women who had spent the last several hours doing things that were dangerous, unpleasant or both, but who now looked remarkably ordinary beneath the mess hall lights.

When they reached the serving counter, the cook slapped a ladleful of something steaming onto Haines's tray.
"Next."
Haines looked down at it.
"Is that meat?"
The cook stared at him.
"Do you want it?"
Haines considered this.
"Yes."
"Then it's meat."
He moved along the line.
Behind him, the Atlas crew laughed.

Outside, the guns were still firing.
Inside, somebody asked for extra bread.

*****

We've got a mixture of some more Samurai and the Black Legion are back soon, as i (hopefully) have a game planned fornthe end of the month. 

Until next time, have nice day...