It’s not every day you find yourself behind the controls of a 56-tonne Chieftain war machine. But there I was, gripping the cold steel levers of a massive tank, feeling a surge of adrenaline I’d never known before.

As a woman, stepping into that armoured beast felt like entering a world that had long been closed off—a world of brute force and the unyielding demands of battle. But there’s something else too, something deeper: a connection to the past, to the soldiers who once lived and fought in these very machines.

The tank itself was the most heavily armed MBTs of the era. Bulky and intimidating. Just getting inside felt like a challenge. The hatch clanged shut above me, sealing me in a cramped, metal cocoon. The controls were heavy, the levers resistant, and every movement required more effort than you’d imagine. But that’s part of the allure, isn’t it? The raw, unfiltered power at your fingertips.

As I manoeuvred the tank, I couldn’t help but think of the soldiers who had to live in these beasts during wartime. Outside, the world was a battlefield, and inside, the tank was both your shield and your prison.

Driving it in peacetime, however, felt vastly different. There was no danger, no enemy lurking on the horizon—just the thrill of controlling something so powerful. I could feel my heart race, my senses sharpen, and yes, my testosterone levels spike. This was power, pure and unfiltered. It was easy to see how someone could get lost in it, how egos could inflate under the weight of such force.

But as the tank rumbled beneath me, I also felt a humbling sense of responsibility. In war, the tank was a tool of survival, a means to an end. In peace, it’s a reminder of how far we’ve come—and how far we could fall if we lose sight of what truly matters.

Looking back, I realise that driving the tank was more than just an adrenaline rush; it was a lesson in understanding both power and restraint.

• The tank’s bulk reminded me of the physical and mental strength required to operate such a machine.

• The cramped interior made me appreciate the endurance of those soldiers who lived and fought in these conditions.

• The surge of power was intoxicating, but it also highlighted the importance of knowing when to stop and when to temper strength with wisdom.

These elements together painted a vivid picture of the fine line between power and control. You also need to know how far to go—when to push forward and when to pull back. Power can be a double-edged sword.

Driving that tank was empowering, no doubt. But it was also humbling. It made me appreciate the balance required to handle such force, and the wisdom to know when to let it go.

Every ounce of power needs a counterbalance. Every force needs a check. Because true strength isn’t about dominance—it’s about mastery.