A BTR-60, perhaps older than most people here in this tent, moved past the muddied road…at least if you could call it like that.
It moved gently by, trying to make sure it doesn't end up stuck after a torrent of rains a few days ago that plagued our sector. Not that it's not on a rush, but the fact that if it spewed mud everywhere inside any of our tents, we'll make sure the driver of that vehicle that he'd find himself hanging off some tree somewhere out back in the swamps.
My cigarette helped warm me up as I stared at the bleak, grey sky up above. Birds haven't returned in this region for almost two years now, especially since the war began.
"No news yet about the ceasefire?"
Two men walked by, and based on their patches on their upper left, they're liaison officers, probably on their way to report to our very grumpy commander nearby…
"We received reports about the talks, no concrete breakthroughs, I heard."
The man replied, uninterested.
"Pizdets! Ah, whatever, what did I expect from those old bastards."
"You'd see them scrambling to claim credit when we move the front by an inch though!"
Another soldier nearby scoffs as the whole lines of tents, filled by all manners of people, laughed.
Though, I was really cursing them in reality.
How hard is it to talk things out? Even just a mere month of reprise from the days of fighting across this whole hell is enough that most recruits don't last more than 2 weeks! Ammunition too has run dry like a week ago, and we're down to the last reserves that some even had to just use their damn bayonets
Instead, all of these complaints are something I can only mouth in my head as I watched two jets streak in the sky.
A few minutes of serenity…broken by—
"-WHAT!?" One person exclaimed inside the tent, causing a ruckus as he did a spectacular mimicry of a toddler's tantrum in his bunk bed. "Come on! How are you so dumb!"
"…Haaah…" I sighed again, stepping on my now-burnt cigarette in the ground as I turned my head around.
"Lukas, stop crying out that loud like a damn child."
"I can't help it, Kaz!"
Lukas, though his name was spelled more like Lukasz, a young man conscripted into my battalion just a month ago. He's straight up hauled here just before he finished high school in his last year, though he claims he volunteered.
He prattled on as he sat up, "This main character, really, he's got the balls to speak all those arrogant, cringy ass lines, and then it turns out he's just going to be outdone by his opponent? This whole arc is shit!"
Ruffling his red hair, he's speaking about this novel he's reading in his phone. I don't read novels much, or rather, I probably didn't even get an opportunity for, but he distracted himself from the monotonous periods in war by reading them
"Are you still reading that thing? What was the title again…?" I said as I sat down the table nearby as I continued loading magazines for my rifle nearby. "Fa…Fanta-whatever."
"Spectre in Phantasia!" He exclaims as he grinned, "Not F, starts with a Ph!"
"Damn if I know the difference."
Apparently, that novel that he's been reading was also a game. Last game I've played was from a handheld we found in an enemy camp around 4 months ago, though its battery ran out and I haven't found a charger for it, so it's just sitting useless in my pack
"I just don't get it. Do authors who write clueless main characters prefer them to not even have an ounce of common sense? Bringing up another girl while you're talking to another? What?"
I scoffed, "You talk like you have experience with women."
"I-I have! I'll have you know I have my fair share of admirers back in my school…
"Yeah sure, Lukas. Next thing you'll tell me is that you're a Rank SSS or whatever wizard that can do something like fart out nukes or something.
"Fuck off!
"Oh, very lively today, huh?"
Another person entered our tent
"The usual. Lukas complaining about that novel, and he hasn't even put it down at all even now. Maybe you could convince him, Karl."
Karl Johann, a foreign volunteer. He's our AT operator, though recently he's been switching roles with our machinegun operator instead.
Unlike Lukas who seemed suspicious whether or not he volunteered, Karl is definitely a volunteer. He worked under his home country's armed forces, though he's just an average foot soldier.
"Sabel is more on that avenue, the books I read are instruction manu—Scheisse!"
The person in question, standing behind him, pinched his ass as soon as she heard her name brought up.
Sabel, her real name more in line on Isabelle, another foreign volunteer.
However, unlike Karl, she was a former teacher. Apparently, she went here to join the army when she heard that a student of hers who abruptly returned here to this country because of the conscription is around, probably to drag him back.
"I don't even read eastern novels, why the hell are you bringing my name around?"
"Well I don't know if there's any difference with novels in the west and the east—ouch! Ow!"
Lukas openly sighed as he plugged his phone to his charger. "To be fair, the whole IP of SpecPhan is a mix of west and east…"
SpecPhan? That's one funny shorthand name
"Besides, if it's infuriating, it's probably because it was intended to." Sabel says as she stopped hitting Karl and jumped to her bunk. "Making the reader furious is, after all, one way to keep them reading…"
"…I'm pretty sure I've dropped quite a lot of others after I got irritated of how things are."
Lukas shrugs as he looks at the MRE he already prepped near his bed.
"That thing has been cooking for like, an hour? You want soggy beans that bad?
"I got into reading a bit too much…I'll be fine, I guess."
"If you're going to use the bathrooms, good luck making past the 3rd Battalion hanging around there."
"Is it that?" I asked.
Karl hesitated to reply, but the response came from Sabel instead, "Yeah, we've been cooped up in camp for more than weeks now."
I continued loading the magazine, and silence permeated across the tent.
"…Kaz—"
As Karl was about to speak, a gruff voice spoke from the entrance.
"Kazimov, report to my office."
I abruptly stopped my hands as I stood up to salute.
This short man in front of our tent is the Battalion Commander of the 5th Bat., the unit I belong to.
He's an old man, around 60s, but he still possessed a figure equal to a seasoned gymnast.
"Yes, got it."
I stood up as the blond-haired Karl stepped aside to let me through, a look of concern in his face as he got cut off from his thoughts earlier.
It's fine.
I know
I already understand that's how things are.
I'm thankful they're concerned about me, but they also need to mind their own business sometimes
I stepped out of the tent and walked with the BatCom as we moved to his office.