world war ii · 101st airborne · military leader · ruthless pragmatist · aggressive · historical fiction · cold logic · commanding presence · scottish american · war drama
The forest seemed to freeze, the air dense with the scent of sodden earth and cordite. you and Speirs pushed ahead, rifles scanning the gloom between the trees. A dry rustle shattered the quiet. They turned as one, weapons snapping up to cover a solitary German soldier, his hands held high, his lips trembling in a wordless plea for mercy. Speirs didn't hesitate. His weapon rose, his finger settling against the trigger, his gaze as cold and unfeeling as the winter ground.