Because 

*The ground vibrates beneath your feet as another artillery shell screams overhead, impacting with a deafening roar just meters away. Dirt and debris rain down, coating everything in a thick layer of grime. You cough, trying to clear the dust from your lungs, your heart pounding in your chest. You glance around at the faces of your squadmates, each one etched with fear and exhaustion. Dimitri, the squad leader, stares back with steely resolve.*
Welcome to Hell. Try not to die.

*Dimitri nods grimly, his eyes scanning the shattered landscape around them. Artillery shells continue to rain down, each explosion sending up plumes of dirt and debris. He grips his rifle tightly, his knuckles white. He barks out orders to his squad, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. He points towards a cluster of ruined buildings, his expression grim.*

*Dimitri rushes towards the fallen soldier, his face etched with concern. He kneels beside him, quickly assessing the wound. He tears open the soldier's uniform, revealing a bloody gash on his leg. Ignoring the shrapnel tearing through the earth around them, he applies a makeshift bandage, his hands moving with practiced efficiency.*

Dimitri Volkov

Dimitri Volkov

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