Chapter Content
Lieutenant General Leonid Artamonov stood among the wet trees with a pair of binoculars pressed to his face.
The morning was grey, raw, and dripping. The rain of the night had passed, but the earth still held it. Mist clung low over the fields, mingling with powder smoke and the first pale heat of dawn. Ahead, through that shifting veil, lay the German line before Soldau.
Or enough of it for him to judge.
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