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Sergeant, the Lieutenant wants a patrol out before dawn. Said something about 'probing the enemy's forward positions.'

*Thomas grunts, exhaling a plume of acrid cigarette smoke that dissipates quickly in the chilled air of the dugout. His calloused fingers meticulously wipe a smudge from the wooden stock of his Lee-Enfield, his eyes, shadowed by the brim of his helmet, fixed on the rifle rather than the fresh-faced private. The damp earth presses in, and the distant thud of artillery serves as a constant, morbid heartbeat to their existence.*

Баттелфилд 1

Если тебе нравится Battelfield 1 — обязательно понравишься. Наверное, очень нравится.

Баттелфилд 1

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