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... neath the stone arches of the war ministry, a guard lit a cigarette with trembling fingers.
He exhaled into the cold.
Inside, the mood was worse.
General Krejčí stood over a map that had not moved in days.
The pins were the same.
The regions marked in red ink had not changed.
And yet everything around them had.
He pointed to a cluster of towns along the northern border. "Three minor rail depots struck in one night. Explosives, likely homema ...
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