Transported Into Another World With My Tank

I need to find that place.

“All this time… you’re only looking for a place to die?”

“Uncertainty of the future might be distorted, but you will get in there.”

“Find a place to live.”

“Gunner ready.” “Sabot Index.” Armstrong and Archer announced, informing their readiness.

“Alright." Captain Gritz Wittmann, known as "Tiger," nodded in satisfaction, then stood atop the tank. "All tanks on my command, and all the brave men who will fight alongside us today." He stood tall, surveying the line of tanks behind him and the infantrymen around. Gritz addressed them with a firm, warm, and resolutely solid tone. "I have only a few words for all of you before we go in. Today, we all know someone's mother is going to lose her light. A father will lose his strength. And... somebody's child... will lose both. That's for sure today. But we, soldiers, embody all of that. We are their light, strength, and hope. We are all somebody's son, daughter, and parents. Are we letting our left-behinds go through that? No!"

His speech intensified.

“Even if it's inevitable, don't let it through your hearts! Today might be the day that we end all of this! Today is the day that we march into this hell. Today is a gift that we live in. And now, we are all heading toward our future where nobody will cry anymore because of this senseless war. All courageous men and women here, let's head toward that future. We, the Red Musket, will lead the way. Follow us."

Tiger returned to his tank hatch, only the upper part of his body visible as he put on his helmet. "May victory be with humanity."

All tanks radioback in unison with a solid “Roger!” Tiger switched to his crew intercom. “Now, Sergeant Ivan Abrams, the first step forward is up to you now.” Aside from the M1A2 Abrams turbine engine high pitch sound, silence looms inside the Red Musket. “But this is my final order to you, full speed ahead.” Even at the urgency of war, the crew patiently waited for Ivan’s response.

In his driver’s compartment, separated from the rest of the crew. Ivan Abrams “Scarface” lying down, eyes closed, as he vividly sees once again the faces of his comrades before he lies down there. The hope in their eyes was placed on him. Ivan couldn’t just wonder, Why would they entrust their future to someone like him? He can’t still understand the words behind that, “He would be the one who will drive everyone to a better tomorrow.” Ivan already felt powerless but at the same time, somehow, within him, he is still happy. He smiled slightly, “Me as a tank commander? He must be joking.”

With that, Ivan finally opened up his eyes, gripped the throttle. “Yes sir.” After replying to Tiger’s command, he twisted down the throttle, and the mighty jet engine of M1 Abrams came into life. People cheering them as they depart at the base and that’s where they started their crusade.

Line of various tanks like the newest T-90M, Leopard II, Challenger, Merkava, and the M1 Abrams filled the road and leading them was the Red Musket. That “secret tunnel” is only located a few kilometers from the base, but they still kept the vigilance for enemy drones or infantry that might spot and compromise this secret mission.

Abrams tanks filled the narrow passage, with Red Musket leading the charge. Though the "secret tunnel" was near their base, vigilance remained high, guarding against drones or infantry who might expose their mission.

After 30 tense minutes, they reached the entrance. Disguised as a forested mountain, it gaped open like a cavern, its existence a mystery. Locals were unaware, and its sudden appearance, conveniently leading to enemy territory, fueled suspicion.

The tanks followed a small recon team's lead. Despite no signs of a trap, the passage felt mystical, almost a lost civilization's work. Tiger's command echoed: "All tanks and PCs, move ahead."

Ivan steered Red Musket carefully down the incline. Though seemingly natural - rocks, stalactites, even bats - the passage felt unnatural. The 20-meter-high, curved ceiling,and was crafted from limestone and marble, adorned with unknown human figures in ancient garb. The rough terrain smoothed, replaced by a flat, paved floor. It's also 5 meters in width, more than enough to fit M1 Abrams tank

"What in the lost history is this, captain?" Archer's voice crackled through the intercom, his scope scanning the surroundings. “There’s no time for us to identify what these are or what era it is. More importantly is our present, and we’ll use this for our future.” Tiger said.The crew, usually silent, observed in awe this "mythical place." Bizarre architecture met their eyes, illuminated by the sculptures' faint blue glow.

An unsettling tension crept in. Archer tapped his foot nervously, Armstrong's grip tightened, and Scarface, ever vigilant, scanned the path with sweaty palms. Though the reason remained unclear, unease gnawed at them. The deeper they ventured, the stranger it felt. From outside, Red Musket's hull pulsed with an eerie blue light.

Finally, after an hour of palpable journey into that breath taking mysterious path, light from the horizon can be seen . The earth rumbled with a metallic symphony as their tanks surged towards the surface. Scattered across the fields, farmers stood transfixed, weathered hands dropping their tools. This wasn't terror that gripped their faces, but a flicker of something far more complex. A glimmer of hope, perhaps, tinged with the bittersweet tang of liberation. These people, once their enemy's subjects, were no longer foes. In their eyes, they weren't invaders, but instruments of their long-awaited freedom. The war, for them, was finally drawing its ragged breath.

"Redmusket to all tanks, maintain line ahead formation and engage your designated targets. Afterward, form up into an arrowhead with me."

"Blackpowder to HQ, requesting a sitrep on the current front," Tiger radioed in.

“HQ to Black Powder. All fronts have initiated their attacks, and significant enemy reinforcements have been dispatched. Anticipate minimal resistance en route to their capital—” The HQ transmission abruptly cut off.

“Blackpowder to HQ, do you copy? Are you still there?”

Only crackling static filled the airwaves. “Something's gone wrong. But I've got the intel I needed,” Tiger thought to himself. But there was no time to dwell on it; they were nearing their target. The entrance to the capital came into view—towering skyscrapers and buildings, with the fortified "palace" of the enemy leader standing out.

As the tanks rushed toward the city entrance, they puzzled over the thick fog reducing visibility and the eerie silence, punctuated only by distant explosions. They couldn't spot any friendly forces in the surroundings. Suddenly, as they emerged from what seemed like a wooded area, the fog cleared, revealing the enemy lying in wait at the city gates—tanks and artillery positioned for an ambush. Seeing this, Tiger immediately ordered a retreat.

“Damn it, it’s an ambush, fall back!” Tiger shouted, but it seemed too late. Trucks rushed in from all sides, each equipped with large barrels in front—suicide trucks. "We've been compromised! How did I not notice this?!" Ivan gritted.

All tanks in the squadron began an immediate retreat. However, the RedMusket tank, at a crucial moment, became stuck in the bog, unable to move.

"Scarface, what's going on?! Why can't we move?" Tiger asked Ivan urgently.

"I don't know! It's like we're bogged down!! Damn it, I can't reverse!" Ivan replied, frustration evident in his voice.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you serious right now?! You're just kidding, aren't you?" Archer nervously interjected.

"We're stuck, damn it! What are we gonna do, Captain?" Armstrong added, addressing Tiger.

Tiger remained silent, while Scarface, in the driver's compartment, frantically tried everything to free them from the bog—twisting controls, adjusting engine power—but to no avail. There was no traction. "Damn it, damn it, damn it, why won't you move?!" Scarface started to panic.

"Captain, what should I do?!" Scarface asked Tiger in a panic. Seconds passed with no response. "Captain? Captain! Captain?! Answer me, Tiger!" Still no response.

Scarface's hands trembled as a cold shiver ran down his spine. Then his heart sank as he saw through his viewing ports a fast-approaching suicide military truck heading straight for their tank. Scarface immediately called out to Archer, their gunner. "ARCHER, TANK AT 12 O'CLOCK. SHOOT IT NOW!!!" His voice betrayed his panic, far from his usual calm and calculated demeanor. "ARCHER, SHOOT IT NOW! ARCHER?!" Still, no response.

At that moment, seconds felt like an eternity. Ivan could hardly breathe, as this scenario was all too familiar. Because of his failure, he was about to lose another dearly comrade, friend, and family member.

"No...no...no! Armstrong... Archer...Tiger, somebody...please shoot it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Scarface's voice trembled with fear as he received no answer. He felt like he had failed his crewmates. He knew they all had dreams and loved ones waiting for them. His voice cried out for forgiveness, begging to be forgiven.

The truck was about to collide with the tank, getting closer by the second. Scarface continued to try to free the tank from being stuck. "Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me," Ivan cried, but before the suicide truck could crash into their tank, he finally heard a response from his crew.

Time seemed to stand still.

"Let go for now, Ivan," Armstrong's deep voice, though heavy, remained calm.

"Hahaha, that's right, we might damage our tracks again," Archer's voice was unusually light, seemingly oblivious to the imminent danger.

"What are you two talking about?! SHOOT IT NOW! WE CAN PROBABLY WITHSTAND THE EXPLOSION!" Ivan retorted.

"..."

"..."

"HEY! WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING AGAIN! THE ENEMY IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF US, SHOOT IT, PLEASE." Ivan's cries grew louder.

"Everything will be okay...Ivan," the voice was soothing, like a father calming his child. It was Tiger's voice.

"What do you mean everything will be okay?! We're all going to die! That can't happen! Many are waiting for you...please don't die... I promised you... that I'll take you all there." Ivan's voice trembled with despair.

"Forgive me, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be stuck here, unable to fulfill your promise—"

"What are you saying, little kid?" - Armstrong

"We're still holding onto your promise, noob." - Archer.

"But...it's already over..." Ivan shut his eyes. He couldn't bear to see his failure. Then,

"A promise is a promise, son. I know you'll take us there. You will. We believe in you."

"CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND?! WE'RE STUCK HERE, IN A GODDAMN BOG! CAN'T MOVE OUT, AND I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT! HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO FULFILL MY PROMISE!" Ivan broke down even more. "I...cannot."

"Kiddo, we are always behind you." Armstrong said.

"You don't have to carry everything alone, okay? Next time, we'll pave a smoother road for you." Archer added.

"I can't understand any of you at all..." Ivan

"SGT Ivan Abrams! Have you forgotten my final order?" Tiger's voice was firm, full of authority like a captain's, then it softened, becoming as calm as a serene sea, firm as a mountain, and bright as blue skies. "It will be alright, no matter what happens or wherever we end up, don't forget my final order. Now, open your eyes."

Tears overflowed from Ivan's eyes, but he slowly opened them. And he saw the truck only meters away from him, then—

"Full speed ahead! Now!" the crew said in unison.

At that moment, time seemed to resume, the truck was inches away, "NO!!!" Ivan shouted, and the truck finally hit the tank. Everything became as bright as the sun, then everything was swallowed by nothingness.