Let's try this.

As many of you may know I am in school in RL questing for a degree in English, writing. I prefer creative writing and I will share some stories here for anyone who wishes to see them. There will be one such story here. Just let me know what you think, or don't, at least let me know you are viewing this. PS: a shameless plug: My shops in Caledon will have some new merchandise after this semester is over.

Strange Code

Explosions shook the battered old brick building that first sergeant Peters and his men were using as a hideout. The occasional corporal or private peeked around the corner, sometimes popping off a rifle blast or two at the encroaching German threat only to turn back belt out the Panzer’s location over the sound of the incessant shelling. Over all of this the field radio beside the first sergeant crackled as a voice sputtered to come through.
“The… Peered… Broken…Pane, over!” cracked the voice in the radio like a slow record player on a locomotive. Peters picked up the radio and sat it in his lap, brought his lit cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag before picking up the receiver.
“Hey! Whoever you are, stop mouthin’ off in the radio! We’re gettin’ shelled pretty bad out here and would appreciate if you would send that air support you promised!” yelled the first sergeant, his cigarette dangling from his lips.
The dust and debris scattered all about the cracked floor beneath the soldiers jumped up then fell back down at a large explosion that toppled the building across the rubble filled French street from the men and fell again in nearly the same arrangement
“The rat peered through … pane! Over!” the voice came through a bit stronger.
“Whathafucks that supposed to mean?” Peters yells into the receiver.
“Moxie, Dimples, Jackson, Alowitz, go get that canister Jackson left out there!” Peters commands the four soldiers who jump up and make a crouched dash for cover.
“The rat peered through the broken window pane, over!” The voice came through so clear the first sergeant could hear the British accent laced within it. Peters just blinked and looked around himself. He turned to look out of the hole next to his head and saw the soft glint of broken class on the front of the menacing giant creaking ever closer to him and his men.
“The tank? Over!” he yelled into the receiver
“Whot? Take it out of you can, but... ahem... the rat peered through the broken window pane, over” came the British voice. He shrugged and stood upright, setting the radio down and jerking the long-rifle off of the downed Nazi sniper laying amidst the dust on the old wooden floor.
Peters shoved the business end of the sniper’s rifle out of the rocky hole, lined up the marks on the rifle with the shattered glass on the giant green beast and pressed back the trigger. He didn’t hear the shot but the immediate red spray from the beast was enough evidence. His heart jumped and he plunged three more shots into the beast. A loud hiss echoed through the streets as the Panzer trembled to a stop. The top hatch boomed open and two shaken Nazi soldiers climbed out in time to become quick targets. Peter’s men had gathered the canister and cheered when the panzer and its crew were finally stopped. Nothing more was heard out of the British voice through the radio.