Regan produced a cloth to wipe her sword clean before sheathing it and recovering the enemy lances. She was already planning how to fire on the enemy armor below when Jatmoore motioned a huddle. When she said to fire on the tanks, she only smiled. The lances from the three lancers in the room were already in a row by the window, waiting to be shot. Well, two were. One had been fired, but she found a lancer round laying about. The soldier was probably reloading when they surprised them. They just had to load it, if they even needed it. The idea was not to need it...
She would take a position out of sight by the window, peeking out to assess the position of the enemy tanks. The lancer took a moment to focus, taking a breath and readying her body for the action. Almost meticulously, she would grab the first lance, exhaling slowly, and with a sharp inhale, as Jatmoore completed her countdown, Private Durandal would begin. Plucking the first lance from the ground, she'd prop herself in the window and aim carefully but quickly, to fire on the closer tank. She'd put the lance back down and grab the next one. She had to get the second shot off before the enemy had time to react. She quickly propped herself in the window again and fired down on the second tank, though she had ducked back too quickly to see if the last one got taken out.
The Lancer would gather the third lance and its round and load them as she moved some windows over. With a quick peek, she saw that both tanks were out, which was good. She lobbed a grenade at a gathering of enemies and laid low for a second, taking the moment to grab her own lance. Just as she did, she heard Jatmoore bark her order. With a new pep in her step, the Lancer ran back to the window. Yellow house? She sets down her own lance for the Imperial model and fires on the wall of the building, to expose its occupants, before picking up her mortar lance and firing a follow-up round into the exposed interior. And then she'd duck back into cover.