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25.8% Transported Into Another World With My Tank / Chapter 8: To Their Future

บท 8: To Their Future

As the first wisps of dawn crept into the darkened room, casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the walls, Ivan stirred from his restless slumber. His eyes fluttered open, the darkness still clinging tenaciously to the world outside, broken only by the faintest sliver of light that struggled to pierce through the heavy drapes. He glanced at the clock, its luminous hands pointing to the unforgiving hour of 5:00 AM.

Ivan decided to rise from his slumber, sleep eluding him throughout the night. His eyes remained shut, but rest had evaded him. Ever since the war had begun, sleep had become a fleeting visitor. This tantalizing mirage remained just beyond his grasp.

Whether from the sheer exhaustion of battle or the relentless torment of nightmares, sleep had abandoned him, leaving him adrift in a sea of restless thoughts and haunting memories. The voices of his loved ones, their cries of pain and anguish, echoed incessantly in his mind, transforming his slumber into a tormented battlefield. 

The briefing concluded, Tiger's words echoing in Ivan's mind: "This operation is no ordinary engagement. We must be prepared for anything." The impending mission was far from a routine tank-on-tank battle. It was a plunge into the unknown, where adaptability and resourcefulness would be their greatest assets.

Ivan was equipped with his FN SCAR rifle, Glock sidearm, a few grenades, and some smoke grenades. He knew his gear was designed for open-combat scenarios, not the confined space of a tank. However, Tiger's directive was clear: be fully prepared for any eventuality.

Despite the potential discomfort of wearing full gear inside the tank, Ivan understood the importance of being prepared for the worst-case scenario. If their tank were immobilized and they had to continue on foot, his infantry training and equipment would be crucial for their survival.

He loaded his FN Scar rifle and double-checked his sidearm, ensuring it was secure in its holster. The grenades nestled within his vest. Finally, when he finished putting all his gear, his reflection stared back at him from the mirror affixed to his locker. The image that greeted him starkly contrasted with the youthful, carefree spirit he carried within. Despite being a mere 20 years old, his face bore the marks of a life already weathered by war and hardship. 

Deep-set shadows, like the lingering traces of sleepless nights, ringed his eyes, their once vibrant hue dimmed by the horrors he had witnessed. A jagged scar, a brutal souvenir from that bomb, etched its way from his eye to his cheek. And in his eyes, once filled with the sparkle of youthful optimism, there was now a haunting emptiness, a reflection of the soul that had seen too much too soon. Ivan's physical visage was a testament to the toll the war had taken.

Alongside the mirror is a picture of his family. He always noticed the difference between the present and the past. If he can only just go back…

Ivan removed the picture attached to his locker and securely placed it inside his combat vest. "I will be home soon, so please wait for me. I will go to that place." He finally left his barracks. 

Outside, he saw bustling activity. Soldiers scurried about, and some stood in orderly lines, awaiting their turn to board the transport vehicles. 

Meanwhile, a dedicated crew in the hangar worked tirelessly, inspecting and refueling tanks, their movements swift and efficient. 

After all, this was likely to be their final battle, a decisive clash that would determine the fate of many. Upon reaching the hangar, Ivan was met with a disorienting sight: their tank, the Red Musket, was nowhere to be seen. A quick inquiry with a nearby crewman revealed that the Red Musket had already taken its position at the forefront of the task force, awaiting their arrival.

Ivan set off towards the hill where he knew the Red Musket would be. As he ascended the incline, the first rays of dawn began to pierce the darkness, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the landscape. And there, silhouetted against the rising sun, stood the mighty Red Musket, its imposing form dominating the horizon.

On top of the tank, a lone figure stood tall and erect, his silhouette unmistakably that of their Captain. The Captain's figure was bathed in the golden light of the rising sun. The wind whipped at his coat, causing it to billow around him, adding to his imposing presence.

Ivan was taken aback by that sight but continued walking toward their tank. 

Tiger noticed Ivan, "Oh hey, you're early." His voice sounds manly, like a father. 

"Is that so?" Ivan replied, his voice neutral but his demeanor respectful. He clambered up the front of the tank and stowed his small rucksack inside the driver's compartment before facing Tiger again. "Armstrong and Archer are already awake; they'll be here soon."

"I see," Tiger acknowledged, settling onto the tank's turret with a piece of colorful paper clutched in his hand. His gaze drifted towards the horizon, where the first rays of dawn were painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. Ivan followed his commander's gaze, and both of them were in quiet contemplation of the sunrise.

Tiger's voice broke the silence, his tone laced with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual calm demeanor. "Did you know tomorrow is my daughter's fifth birthday?" he asked. "She wrote me a letter," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "telling me that she already misses me and hoping that I could visit her tomorrow."

Ivan turned to face Tiger, his heart aching for his commander, who was torn between his duty as a soldier and his longing for his daughter. Tiger's expression was a delicate balance of amusement and sadness, reflecting his bittersweet emotions about his daughter's growth and his absence from her life. At that moment, Ivan saw a different side of Tiger. This side was not the hardened commander he had come to know but a loving father yearning for the warmth of his family.

Tiger held up the colorful paper, revealing an adorable girl smiling beside a meter stick. "She's adorable as ever, but she's growing up fast. And also, I can see that she's already an intelligent child who can write me a letter. She got everything from her mom." Tiger laughs light-heartedly. 

Tiger's voice trembled as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of emotion that threatened to crush him. "I miss her…" he whispered, his gaze fixed on the fading horizon, longing for his daughter etched in every line of his face.

Ivan turned his gaze back to the sunset, his heart echoing Tiger's silent sorrow. He understood the torment that Tiger was battling, the fear that gnawed at his soul, the uncertainty that clouded his resolve.

"Then you know what we should do today," Ivan said, his voice firm but laced with empathy.

Tiger nodded, his eyes mirroring the anguish that consumed him. "You're right, son…" Tiger paused and continued, but his voice was a grim facade. "But if anything happens to me or something goes wrong, make sure to escape and tell to my daughter-" 

"Cut the crap!" Ivan's voice cracked like a thunderclap, shattering the tense silence,

 "I won't do that. Do you think I can easily handle seeing your daughter crying? Do you think I bear to tell her that her papa is already gone?! Don't you dare to feed me with that deathbed bullshit! If you die, we all die. That's it." 

Ivan paused for a moment to return his gaze to the sunrise. He continued, but his voice was a bit softer this time."And also, I already promised to take you there, to the place you want, to where you can get that future you're longing for. I will take you there, all of you. No one will be left behind. Let me make my promise come true. Let me drive you there. And after that, be with your daughter and celebrate her birthday tomorrow. Don't you dare to feed me with that deathbed bullshit!"

"Ivan…" Captain Tiger said slowly

"Let me take you there," Ivan rasped, his gaze intensifying like a dying ember, flickering on the brink of extinguishment. It burned with desperate hope, yearning for fuel, for direction, but its flames danced erratically, searching for an unknown destination.

Seeing the instability of fire, Tiger asked one question that had puzzled Ivan all this time: "What would you do after this war?"


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