The sky was dimly lit, with a light drizzle falling over Toul.
The German Army soldiers in the trenches were shivering in the unexpected chill of the spring cold snap, instinctively rubbing their hands and stomping their feet to keep warm.
Suddenly, the sharp whistles of artillery shells pierced the air, soon morphing into a nauseating tearing sound, finally exploding near the trenches.
Deafening noise, smoke billowing.
The German Army soldiers calmly ducked into the trenches for cover.
Having confronted the French Army on the defensive line for so long, they were used to the enemy's artillery attacks, even the sight of several comrades being blown to pieces no longer stirred any emotions in them.
"These shells must have just been shipped from the United States," Colonel Hans cursed as he ducked into the dugout, "The French can't wait to fire them off as soon as they get them, those wastrels!"
