Eastern border of Illinois, temporary settlement.
The smell of gunpowder mixed with the scent of blood and scorched earth lingered in the evening chill.
In the makeshift medical tent, military doctors and nurses moved between simple beds, the clanging of forceps against metal trays, restrained groans, and occasional outbursts of crying intertwined.
Outside the tent, within the barbed wire enclosure, about 300 preliminarily screened refugees huddled under distributed thin blankets.
Most of them were elderly, women, and children, their eyes hollow as they watched the silhouettes of the Mexican soldiers patrolling, and further away, a dozen bodies covered with white sheets lay arranged by the dirt pit, awaiting unified burial at dawn.
Ludwig Becker stood in front of the command vehicle, smoking.
This Commander especially liked to take the lead!
Hmm…
Every leader has his own preferences, the bald one even likes playing the stock market.
