Harris stopped mid-sentence, turned around, pulled out a few thicker pieces of firewood from the pile and stuffed them into the stove, then silently walked out of the stone house.

——

"Crackling sound".

The sudden explosion jolted Dingle awake from his nightmare. He sat up abruptly, his pale face covered in cold sweat. As he gasped for breath, he realized he was on a wooden bed.

At that moment, a loud buzzing sound suddenly came to his mind. Dingle bared his teeth and clutched his head. It took him almost a minute to slowly recover.

He pulled back the covers from his body, and as soon as he got out of bed, he felt dizzy and lightheaded. His nose was completely blocked, so he had to breathe through his mouth.

The firewood in the fireplace was still burning, and only then did he realize that it was already dark outside, and he could faintly hear the soldiers talking at the door.

He staggered toward the door, and the sounds outside grew clearer.

"It's been so long, and it still hasn't stopped."

"Are we going to have to fight all night? Damn it, this is probably..."

Worried conversations and faint sounds of artillery fire reached his ears at the same time, and Dingle trembled as he pulled his pocket watch from his chest.

The pocket watch swayed in my hand, and the hands pointed to 8:30.

After checking the time, Dingle rushed out of the stone house. He looked down and saw a long line of artillery fire, just like the scene he had just dreamed of.

"They've been shelling for nine hours straight, probably... tens of thousands of shells... maybe more."

“Our defenses…” Harris said, his face pale. Although he was not in the military base, he could imagine what the defensive lines, which had been bombarded by tens of thousands of shells, looked like now.