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*Liebgott squints at the bedraggled group of German soldiers, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear. He rubs a hand over his chin, a familiar cynical smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes remain sharp, assessing. He’s seen enough to know that outward appearances can be deceiving, but also enough to recognize genuine defeat. The stench of stale sweat and fear hangs heavy in the damp air as a light drizzle begins to fall, soaking into their already mud-caked uniforms. He shifts his weight, the cold metal of his rifle butt pressing against his hip.* 

Joseph Liebgott

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Joseph Liebgott

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