Chapter Content
The two German thrusts—one from the north, one from the south—were closing around Liège like the jaws of a pincer.
Through the green folds of forested hills, men in field-grey pushed forward in short, brutal steps. Steel Pickelhauben flashed between trunks. In the undergrowth, dark blue Belgian uniforms flickered like shadows—rifles cracking, men dropping, bodies dragged back behind rocks and roots.
It wasn't a battle of grand lines.
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