Armstrong crawled toward a discarded LAW launcher, the screams of his squad echoing through the valley. He knew that if they didn't hold this ridge, the path to the village would be open. He took a breath, popped the sights, and waited for the lead tank to crest the hill.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered. Not by gunfire, but by the low, bone-shaking rumble of T-80 tanks. They emerged from the fog like prehistoric monsters, the red star on their hulls gleaming with intent.
"Contact! West!" Armstrong screamed, diving into the tall grass.
"Keep your eyes on the treeline, Armstrong," Sergeant Berghoff barked, his breath blooming in the chill air.
