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... low over the Monte de la Peña. Dawn hadn’t broken yet, but the Francoist lines were already awake.
The sound of shovels scraping into rock rang up and down the ridge.
Men packed sandbags into makeshift shield.
If they came, they’d come from there.
Captain Domínguez wiped sweat from his brow. "Artillery on the west slope, now. We don’t get second chances."
A conscript hesitated beside him. "But we’ve only got four shells."
Domínguez turned. "Then y ...
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