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SHACK!

The wind blew into the forehead of this young South-East Asian born soldier. Fresh, warm and lively wind blowing into the train wagon, cleansing the cabin he was in of the sweats of his comrades. Thanh knew some of these comrades had never tread anywhere beyond the snowy whites of Russia or Northern Europe before in their lives. He didn't carry too much commodity with him, so to pass time, he poured it on trying to formulate some sort of bonds with the fellows on his wagon. And thanks to these moments he dispensed, he knew a little bit of the comrades that he would be fighting with. Most of these guys were still young, innocent, having never faced bullets whizzing through the inch of their teeth every single day. And he totally get it. The Russians were getting desperate with their manpower these days. While it proved somewhat hilariously 'beneficial', as he had earned a vacation ticket to China, Russia, Siberia and now India, with some nice chows served at his boots, for free. It may remain to be history's strange story, but what could be better than that?

[b][color=fff159]"Whew."[/color][/b] Thanh wiped off the sweat from his forehead before scrambling his hand through his shirt pocket, pulling out a small wrap of paper. Speeding a few decades to come, it looked a little like a wrap for the portrait picture of someone, but it was a little too soon for that. The paper wrap, dulled and browned from age and dirt, was simply an amulet. Simple but treasurable. As crazy as it may sound, it may have been keeping him alive for the entire time, after so many times he almost threw his life away in an infantry charge. The choice to be a little superstitious and believe it or not was up to each individuals. The one certain thing is that Thanh believed in it, and it was all that matters.

He wiped off the dirt webbing on his paper wrap as the one sitting next to him took a glance at the object.

[b][color=0072bc]"What is it, Thanh?"[/color][/b] He spoke in a Russian accent. 

[b][color=fff159]"A lucky charm, from my mother, sent before I depart for Hanoi. I can't believe it has already been 3 years since that day."[/color][/b]

[b][color=0072bc]"She must have been a lovely mother. How is she?"[/color][/b] The guy asked, perhaps out of naivety. Thanh wasn't anticipating to answer that, nor did he liked it, but he wasn't antagonizing the guy over it.

[b][color=fff159]"I don't know. Three years and no words from her ever since."[/color][/b]

The man stayed silent after the response. Before Thanh could continue the conversation, the train came to a screeching halt before stopping. The train door slid open as the order was given for everybody to come out. All of them. The hush the commanding officer of his wagon caught Thanh in a bit of a hurry, as he was hastily grabbing his equipment, consisting of a TT-32 pistol, the so widely known PSSH-41, a customary camouflaged pith helmet that he carried ever since the battle of Hanoi, and a pair of rubber sandals, handmade from rubber tires. So hasty he gathered that he was hurling them all together at his chest the moment he got out, barefooted and onto the Indian dirt. 

As soon as he descended onto the solid ground, as he put on his sandals, helmet and strapping his weapons, he could marvel at the brave new world he had arrived on. The heat was probably the thing he appreciated the most. He had a number of difficulties trying to adjust to the Russian Winters several years ago, but they weren't too bad. He too weren't a fan for the service boots either, because he considered it too bulky to move around. Sure, it gave me more protection against shrapnel and spikes underground, but he found sandals a lot easier to manage, carry and use. Even his uniform and helmet were his owns from the day of recruitment. Maybe he had gotten too complacent with it that he couldn't handle changing to something else. He did not know. But boy was this weather perfect for his ancient gears. Not that he wanted to see combat, but sooner or later, he would.

Strange that he was not called to work unlike some of his comrades in the wagon. Perhaps the officer knew a man of his physicality wouldn't help much against that monstrous number of loads, so he let Thanh had his moments for now. It was a rare moment of free time. And he was going to enjoy it. He had spent a bit of time trying to get to know some in his wagon, but what about other wagons? He'd want to know who his allies would be. Many of whom were already forming groups, so he didn't intend to interfere with their conversations. But then suddenly, he noticed this young dark-haired lady, seemingly of South East Asian descent too. She was also admiring the scenic around her. It was quite extraordinary for a stranger like him and her. And it was rather a surprise to see so many young ladies in the battlefield like this. It was quite strange to be honest. 

[b][color=fff159]"Xin chao (Hello)"[/color][/b] He approached her, greeting her with his mother tongue. [b][color=fff159]"Beautiful day isn't it?"[/color][/b] He then proceeded to speak normally. [b][color=fff159]"Do you speak Russian?"[/color][/b]