Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Not a Self-Deprecating Stream
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“But what the hell is your concept?”
“It's not really a concept...”
“Is it really okay to climb into a U.S. tank dressed like that?”
“We're allies, aren't we?”
“Wow... You're even crazier than me.”
“Why am I...”
“Your eyes alone scream crazy bitch.”
“......”
I answered Wardaddy by kicking the tank lightly.
I felt pissed off, like we'd just been dismissed by the Yankee.
Of course, climbing into a U.S. tank didn't make me uncomfortable at all.
That was because I'd returned to the real world at the exact moment World War II ended.
Even though I was Soviet-born, it also meant I never experienced the Cold War.
To me, America was just an ally—nothing more, and I never saw them as enemies.
Right now, the smooth ride of this state-of-the-art tank actually felt comfortable.
Compared to the bone-rattling ride of the T-34 crammed with a dozen people, the Abrams might as well have been a magic carpet.
“Hey, me and Sukka are streaming right now, okay? Could you maybe hold off on the swearing?”
“Didn't you call me crazy first?”
“Uh, well... That was a compliment...”
“This is my compliment back.”
Fortunately, Wardaddy and his crew didn't seem to mind appearing on stream.
I also appreciated that they weren't treating me special just because I'm a female player.
Thanks to their prickly attitude, even the viewers weren't getting jealous.
Wardaddy's character had this rugged uncle vibe, which somehow earned him the weird nickname 'War Papa.'
“Are those your squadmates? All in Soviet uniforms?”
“Yeah, that's right.”
“What's with the guys sticking their asses out the windows?”
“No idea...”
We soon arrived at where the squadmates were gathered after a short drive.
As expected from the elite viewers selected through fierce competition, they'd already cleared the area and were messing around among themselves.
I never imagined they'd go that far just to moon me.
It was ridiculous and embarrassing, making me want to pretend I didn't see it.
But this kind of horsing around was about to end.
I hopped off the tank and radioed everyone.
“We're here. Time to start the Sickle and Hammer Operation.”
“Gasp! Guys! Sukka's here!”
“And those who hurt their asses earlier? You're out. No more viewer participation for you.”
“Nooo!!”
“But if this op succeeds, I'll forgive you. Just give it your all without getting hurt.”
“Ooh!”
My mix of carrot and stick fired up the squadmates.
Truth be told, I had no authority over them since they were recruited from Ttalgwi's stream, but their hot reaction showed even a feather-duster whip scared them.
Joining the squadmates, I quickly started a headcount.
A few had died and rejoined, but luckily, everyone was present—no stragglers.
Now it was time to execute the Sickle and Hammer Operation for real.
I pointed toward enemy lines and gave clear orders to everyone.
“We're pushing into enemy territory toward Point A. Ttalgwi Squad, spread out wide in groups of four on the left and right. Sukka Squad, you'll escort the tank from the front.”
“Huh? Not following behind?”
“There are buildings lining both sides of the path. If enemies with anti-tank weapons are hiding, we're screwed. We'll check the windows and hustle to Point C.”
“Escorting a tank... First time for me...”
The path to the op area was narrow—barely wide enough for two tanks.
With tall buildings stretching along both sides, we had to stay alert even if we couldn't check every spot.
At my orders, the squadmates looked skeptical, like 'Is this right?', while Wardaddy nodded like 'That's exactly it!'
It was a sad glimpse into how tanks were used—or misused—in Frontline Archive.
“Alright, let's move.”
We advanced in a pretty solid formation.
No one was right next to the tank, but the squads encircled it widely.
In a way, the infantry was acting as the tank's radar.
The spread-out infantry would spot ambushes and enemy positions, letting the tank finish them with gunfire. That's what the formation was for—mutual support.
Of course, once fighting broke out, the formation lost all meaning.
But it gave us the edge in the first clash, so moving cautiously wouldn't hurt us.
“Multiple enemies spotted inside the building at 12 o'clock.”
“I see them too. Everyone, take cover.”
After a bit of movement, we spotted enemy movement in a distant building.
Through the glass first-floor windows, four or five enemies were huddled together.
They must've been sightseeing the new map.
I ordered cover, then called Wardaddy.
“Wardaddy, enemies inside that crimson building ahead. Aim for the first-floor windows and hit 'em with one white phosphorus round, please.”
“Damn... White phosphorus, my ass...”
“Huh?”
“Kid, you're the craziest bitch I've ever met. Accept my friend request later.”
“No... Why again...”
“You think we've got WP shells here?”
“Huh?”
I glanced at chat, face screaming 'What?' to verify.
I couldn't believe there were no WP shells, so I needed to check.
Luckily, the viewers were spilling all sorts of info without me asking.
I scanned chat fast, staying vigilant.
『WP shells??』
『What war did Sukka even fight in...?』
『WP shells: Explosive rounds filled with incendiary white phosphorus. Burns through skin to the bone on contact.』
『Sukka, I'm scaredㅜㅜㅜㅜ』
『It's a game lol, no WP shellsㅋㅋㅋㅋ』
『Sukka's got no blood, no tears, no heartㄷㄷㄷ』
┗ [Chat deleted by block.]
Looks like Frontline Archive had no WP shells.
It made sense—they were terrifying—but it was so unexpected I was thrown off.
On top of that, they were painting me like some cold-blooded killer, which pissed me off.
As a clean soldier who'd never committed war crimes, this ridiculous misunderstanding was infuriating.
But knowing the agony of burning white phosphorus left me speechless to defend myself.
My thighs burned at the memory, and I bit my lip hard.
“I'll fire a HE instead.”
“Ah, yeah... Please do...”
No teeth, fight with gums.
I answered Wardaddy and aimed at the enemies with the squad, waiting.
The tank soon aligned its barrel on target.
Hearing the tracks, enemies tried to bolt, but we had them surrounded—no escape.
- KABOOM─!!
The shell hit like thunder on any battlefield—brutal and deafening.
Confirming the building erupt, I gritted my teeth and charged.
“Wiping them out clean!”
WP would've been mercy; HE meant confirmation kills with gunfire.
Some might call it heartless, but it was a lesson learned in blood and tears.
Finishing cleanup, I panted and turned to the squadmates.
My late-arriving red comrades wore bitter expressions.
Probably because blood trickled from my bitten lip.
I wiped my mouth with my dusty uniform sleeve and gave orders.
“Picking up speed now. Tank fire might've tipped them off, and the dead guys marked our position.”
No more creeping with caution.
Time to become a sharp sickle, avoiding encirclement.
“Point C is right ahead. We'll signal friendlies already fighting there, then full throttle to Point A.”
If we were the sickle, other allies were the hammer.
Time to slash the stalled front and flip it on its head.
“Hey, kid. You okay?”
Wardaddy called from the tank that joined smoothly.
Chin on the open hatch, sunglasses perched on his head.
His piercing eyes met mine straight on.
The hollow gaze of someone who knew war—you can't avoid it in the mirror.
“Yeah, I'm fine.”
I looked up at Wardaddy and nodded.
He was a weird uncle I'd just met, but he understood me better than anyone here.
I'd bet he knew from the WP mention, felt it from my confirmation kills.
Showing me his eyes? Maybe his way of comforting me.
“It's okay to go nuts here, right?”
Irresponsible words.
But they gave me courage.
Maybe going full crazy once wouldn't be so bad.
With that thought, I gave the final order.
“Squad, full charge.”
Despair, sorrow, helplessness, rage.
Shoving those negative feelings aside desperately.
“Ura Charge.”