" Come on, move it, move it, you lazy bums, move it "
" I want to get to the frontline before twilight, otherwise none of you will be getting any bloody food "
A Russian general with a loud Slavic voice roared at his soldiers using a wooden cone to amplify his already ginormous voice.
As soon as the soldiers heard the voice of the general, they visibly shivered as if they were doused in ice-cold water.
The pace picked up visibly, which satisfied Dracovich extremely well.
Among the marching soldiers at the end of the first group, Sergiovich couldn't help but mumble, " Will he really give the food?" His voice was filled with blatant mockery and sarcasm.
Yuri, a son of a farmer who had to pick up arms and march into the battlefield due to conscription in order to make sure that his mother could live well with the salary provided by the emperor, hearing the mumbling of his buddy, scoffed.
