Last Night Before The Final Attack

"I need to find that place." Ivan told to himself 

Ivan's eyes welled up with tears as he thought about his crewmates' dreams, their hopes for the future that they shared so openly with him. 

Quickly wiping away the tears that threatened to fall, Ivan turned back to his crewmate. "You're right," he said, "I'm going to take you to that future you're talking about."

A flicker of surprise crossed his crewmate's face, but it was quickly replaced by a smile of gratitude. Ivan's words had ignited a spark of hope within them, a belief that their dreams were not just distant wishes but achievable goals.

Ivan turned his head again, facing his crewmates. "It's going to be a rough ride, so you better use your seatbelts."

"Seriously, dude, why do you always say that?" Archer chuckled, pointing out the obvious lack of seatbelts in their tank.

"Hey Tiger," Armstrong chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How about you install some seat belts for us?"

Tiger smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What if I already did?"

"What the-" Armstrong and Archer exclaimed in unison, their eyes widening in disbelief.

"Of course not," Tiger replied with a deadpan expression. "If we got hit and those seatbelts stuck us, we'd be cooked inside the tank before we could even escape."

"But after seeing all the modifications you've made, it seems like you've turned our tank into a glorified powder keg," Archer retorted, his voice laced with a mix of humor and exasperation.

"Yeah, that's right," Armstrong agreed, nodding in affirmation. He rapped on one of the supposedly ARAT ERA boxes, eliciting a clunking sound of machine gun ammunition. "You've literally surrounded us with ammo."

"And also, and how did this ridiculous modification get approved in the first place?" Archer added, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

Despite the barrage of criticism from his crew, Tiger remained unfazed, simply shrugging and grinning from ear to ear. "But admit it, fellas," he said, his voice radiating pride. "Our tank looks badass now!"

Armstrong sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "To be honest, I'm all for badass things, but this tank has crossed the line into abomination territory. It's literally an iron monstrosity covered in explosives. And just look at the top of the turret – what the heck are those? An antenna and four machine guns, for starters."

Finally overwhelmed by the harsh criticism, Tiger conceded defeat. "Alright, alright, let's just focus on its performance, okay?" he said, raising his hands in surrender.

Ivan joined the chorus of complaints. "And I bet you've also crammed some portable missiles into our already cramped tank," he said, his voice laced with disbelief. "How did you even manage to get permission to carry such valuable weapons for our infantry?"

"I mean, it could be a secret tool we can use for later, you know?" Tiger answered

Ivan sighed. "All right, let's just hope that this is already enough for the battle tomorrow.

The Red Musket crew glanced at their tank once again.

Archer, his usually cocky demeanor replaced by a somber seriousness, gazed at the tank, his eyes tracing the contours of the armored behemoth. "I'll admit," he said, his voice laced with a hint of doubt, "I still have my reservations about our chances tomorrow. But I'll do my damnedest to hit our mark and finish this war once and for all."

Armstrong, raised his clenched fist, his eyes burning with determination. "There's no denying the odds stacked against us," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "But we've faced insurmountable challenges before, and we've always risen to the occasion. This time is no different. We'll punch through their defenses and end this senseless war."

Ivan, his usual stoicism masking a deep well of emotion, nodded in agreement. "As I said before," he said, his voice steady and unwavering, "I'll do everything in my power to drive us to victory, to drive us towards…your future."

Tiger, his heart overflowing with gratitude for his loyal crew, looked at them with eyes filled with pride. "Gentlemen," he began, "I've never been prouder to call you my crew. For two years, we've fought side by side, through trials and tribulations, through victories and defeats. Together, we've become not just a tank crew, but a symbol of courage, intelligence, and resilience. Even when we've fallen, we've risen again, stronger and more determined than before."

He paused, letting his words sink in, before continuing, "Tomorrow, we face our final battle, our last stand, our final push towards a better future. And though I may not be the perfect captain, I will exhaust every ounce of my strength, every fiber of my being, to ensure our victory."

With a final surge of emotion, Tiger rose to his full height, his hands raised in a crisp military salute. "It has been an honor to fight alongside you, my brothers-in-arms."

The crew returned the salute.

"We will roll out at 0700 hours sharp," Tiger declared, "Make sure you get enough rest. That is all. Dismissed!"

"Yes, sir!" the crew responded in unison.

Thus the crew spent their remaining hours before the final push. 

Archer made his way to the nearby town. He carried with him a bottle of Bowman's favorite brandy, a comforting reminder of the brother he had lost to the ravages of war. Despite the ongoing conflict and his soldierly duties, Archer was granted permission to make the purchase because of the Red Musket reputation.

With the bottle cradled in his arms, Archer ventured to the wreckage of their former tank, the 

T-90. The sight of the turret, torn open by enemy fire, and the deformed frontal hull, a because of Ivan's desperate ramming maneuver, stirred a storm of emotions within him.

Archer poured out the brandy on the tank. He spoke to Bowman. He vowed to honor his brother's memory by surviving the war, returning home to care for their mother, and supporting Bowman's wife and children.

Though he couldn't be certain if Bowman could hear him, Archer felt an undeniable connection to his brother, a bond that transcended the boundaries of life and death. In his heart, he knew that brothers were always connected, no matter the distance or the circumstances.

Armstrong spent his day exercising, focusing on strengthening his arm. Afterward, he went to the kitchen and decided to prepare a barbecue for the evening. While marinating the meat, he wrote a heartfelt letter to his fiance, expressing his love, longing, and excitement for their upcoming wedding.

Tiger remained confined to the hangar, his mind consumed by the intricacies of the battle plan and the complex topography of the battlefield. The impending clash of arms weighed heavily on his shoulders, demanding his undivided attention. He meticulously studied the maps, scrutinizing every detail, every potential obstacle, every possible enemy position.

Yet, amidst the relentless pursuit of victory, Tiger sought solace in the cherished letters from his beloved daughter. He reread them with a tender touch, each word a lifeline connecting him to a world of innocence and love far removed from the harsh realities of war.

The warmth of her words infused his heart with a renewed sense of purpose. He envisioned her bright smile, her infectious laughter, her dreams for the future. Her innocent scribbles and heartfelt expressions served as a poignant reminder of the world he fought to protect, a world where his daughter could grow up in peace, free from the fear of war's devastating grip.

Ivan found himself immersed in the intricate details of the battlefield, his eyes tracing the contours of the maps with unwavering focus. Like Tiger, he meticulously studied the terrain, scrutinizing every hill, every river, every potential obstacle that lay in their path. His mind was a whirlwind of calculations and strategies, each mental maneuver aimed at ensuring the Red Musket's swift and effective movement.

His previous mistake, the costly error that had nearly cost them their lives, served as a stark reminder of the unforgiving nature of the battlefield. Ivan was determined to ensure that such a lapse would never happen again. With meticulous precision, he scanned the maps, identifying potential mudflats, swamps, and treacherous fields that could hinder the tank's progress.

When the night settled down, the crew had a simple and small barbeque party which they also shared with other squad. You can compare that night as calm before the storm. They knew that tomorrow will change history, this might be their last night, this might be their last smile and laughter, this might be the last time they could eat together. But it wasn't that bad at all.