The trench is a graveyard of memories. To your left, your friend, Oleksiy, lies dead still, his hand still clutching the rusted handle of a spade he never got to use. To your right, the tattered remains of your company's flag are mired in mud, a symbol of a forgotten promise. The ground trembles beneath your feet. It's not the wind; it's the rhythmic thunder of Tanks, APC's, and sounds of crouch walking boots. The sound of a force too great to be stopped. This is not a battle you can win. This is where you stand and fight