been commandeered, and were being loaded with
explosives. Pilots in black uniforms boarded them, and flew off into
the night. Many of the enemy's tanks would never reach the battle.
North of Southern the Commander of an enemy tank group made camp by a
little brook and looked curiously at a tree on its other side. A neat
little fence stood around the tree, and a small altar was just outside
the fence. "I wonder what that is?" he asked.
152 One of his men looked up. "It's one of their Shrines," he laughed.
"That Tree must be considered sacred for some reason."
153 "Sacred, is it?" laughed the enemy Commander, "We need some sacred
wood for our fire," He walked over to one of his tanks that was
equipped with a heavy plow for removing barricades. "You," he ordered,
"see that tree over there with the fence around it? Knock it down!"
154 The officer in the tank saluted. They started their engine, rolled
down the hill, across the brook, back up the hill. They crashed through
the altar and the little fence, and rushed at the Tree with a great
deal of speed.
155 Suddenly, there was a great crash like thunder, and a bright light.
The tank seemed to freeze for a moment, then slowly it rumbled
backwards down the hill, and came to a stop. It's plow was driven in
and light smoke came out of its hatches.
156 A man climbed up and looked inside. "They're all dead!" he cried,
"It looks like they've been cooked!"
157 The enemy Commander ordered his tanks. "Form a line. Bring your
pieces to bear on that damned tree! On my command, four rounds. Fire!
Fire!"
158 Again and again the big cannon roared, but when the smoke and dust
cleared, the Tree still stood there, not even a twig had they moved!