The Tehran night was no longer night; it flashed with explosions every moment. I stood behind the defense system, my hand on the button, but my mind was elsewhere. Why all this pressure? Why all this hostility?
The commander's voice crackled: "New target inbound... be ready!"
I closed my eyes. In that moment, I no longer saw just Tehran; I saw Baghdad, Beirut, Damascus, Gaza, Kabul—all staring at one point. Here. My comrade's question lingered in my mind.
Suddenly, the ground trembled. The explosion grew closer. I closed my eyes and remembered a sentence from Qasem Soleimani: "Our religion is the Islamic Republic... The Islamic Republic is the shelter of Islam."
It was as if a veil lifted from my eyes. I understood—this trembling ground was not just a border shaking; the hearts of millions across the Islamic world were shaking too. For many, this land is not just a country; it is a pillar of support.
The commander's voice came again: "Ready to fire!"
I placed my hand on the launch button. I was no longer just defending my home. Behind me stood a generation whose hope rested on our steadfastness.
The countdown began: "Three... Two... One..."
I fired. The missile tore through the sky with a terrible roar. The firelight fell upon my face. I whispered softly: "Now I understand... why they pay such a price for this land. Because they know—if this shelter stands, hope still remains for so many.
