The winter rain drizzled down, silent and thread-like, falling into the River Somme.
A dozen landing boats were moored along the riverbank, and soldiers were braving the rain to transport supplies. These boats would be converted into transport vessels after the battle ended.
Beside the bank, the trenches twisted like a ribbon, stretching to the horizon on the other side before disappearing into the rain mist and the pale sky.
Shire's command had moved into the trenches constructed by the German Army.
Logs supported the spacious underground tunnel, which was neat and clean. The bedding and ground remained dry, and they even dug a fireplace for warmth.
Shire glanced at Kristen, who had followed him in.
Kristen looked guilty.
After seeing the German Army's trenches, he never wanted to return to the French Army's trenches, which seemed like a dog kennel in comparison.
