"Shut up, you dumbasses. My six guns have already fired a thousand shells today! Today's quota is used up. Wait until tomorrow if you want more. If you've got the balls, go talk to Rheinmetall!"
The two sides were cursing each other out on the channel, spittle flying through the ether. The infantry commander practically wanted to rush over and strangle that son of a bitch Boris.
The frontline has its own kind of misery. As support units trickled in, today the players' side actually managed to outgun the Europeans, and the only reason was this damned howitzer control software slowly knocking more and more European artillery out of action, so they had to rely on the Cubans' old-school towed guns to patch the firepower gap.
"Uh... I'm applying to Rheinmetall's engineers for a maintenance key and low-level code access."
The technician pointed at the page on the terminal.
[Requesting customer-service support, online, waiting, urgent]
[In queue, please wait]
