Perching inside a bunker, my soldier peering out of its only window, I could fire round after round of anti-tank shell at aggressive armor with little reprisal. The erratic movements of the steel beast's driver made aiming for the top mounted machinegunner nearly impossible, and the small opening from which I dished out death made it truly impossible for the hapless driver to place a round into my hole. But that didn't stop his friend in a much larger, much more ominous German tank from sneaking up from behind, stopping directly in front of the doorway, and pivoting the turret so that its end was actually inside the room. I lived just long enough to turn and see a bright flash of light come from the barrel. Beaten, I still found myself gleefully applauding.
But I got mine.
Wake Island is where Ivan dominates. A cove with a massive bay in the middle and two Japanese vessels just off the coast, this is the level where I single-handedly fended off some five opponents on the other team and maintained a sizable lead and well controlled dominance throughout the entire match. It's the shoes...and the skill. After a good five minutes of being annihilated by my tank rounds and helplessly plummeting to their deaths into the sea, the server was finally shutdown. Losing to a single man must have been too much to bear.
But I couldn't blame them for abruptly stopping things. The pasting they received from me at every single turn must have transcended embarrassment. First there was me shooting down every one of their planes that launched from the carrier by inhabiting the nearby destroyer and its immensely powerful, but deceptively hard to manage deck guns. Then there was me assaulting some hiding troops at the base of a hill by flying down it in a tank that constantly gained speed. Running over a few of them, and then quickly switching by way of a simple key depression to the top mounted machinegun was fun, but not as fun as shooting the mass of cowards in the back as they ran for cover.
