Busan – Defense Ridge, Dawn
The horizon was a dull gray. Fog clung to the hills like a shroud, masking everything beyond the ridgeline. Cold wind swept down from the mountains, biting through coats and uniforms as soldiers stirred in the trenches.
Captain Luis Graham knelt behind a sandbag wall, peering through his field binoculars again. His breath came out in clouds, visible in the freezing morning air.
Below, the city of Busan was quiet, but the southern horizon glowed faint orange from the fires still burning in Pohang.
No one had slept much.
Behind him, Amerathian and Korean engineers worked by lantern light, reinforcing wooden platforms and stacking fresh crates of ammunition. Korean soldiers, grim-faced, passed along the line, tightening bayonets and loading rifles.
General Nam approached, a fresh steaming mug of tea in his hand. He passed it to Graham without a word.
"Thanks," Graham muttered.