Bosnia and Herzegovina, 5 kilometers east of Brcko, abandoned farm machinery station.
The rain had stopped, but the clouds hung low, and the air was thick with the sweet and cloying smell of diesel, gunpowder, and something scorched.
Lieutenant Leclerc's squad of the French Foreign Legion had temporarily retreated here to rest, resupply ammunition, and wait for helicopters from the rear to evacuate the wounded.
The main building of the machinery station had long lost half its roof to artillery fire, and the yard was littered with the rusted remains of tractors and seeders. Leclerc ordered the soldiers to spread out and maintain vigilance. He leaned against a combine harvester with its tracks fallen off, using the last bit of cold water from his canteen to swallow a mouthful of hardtack with difficulty.
"Lieutenant."
