Before them, blood and fire clashed. Rockets and heavy guns thundered without pause as soldiers raised their rifles, took aim, and fired. Smoke billowed across the battlefield.
Behind the lines, the allied commanders, their chests covered in medals and ribbons, kept clinking crystal goblets studded with gold, silver, and jewels, lifting them from exquisitely crafted trays.
Scarlet wine sprayed through the air. At the front, a young soldier was shot and fell, never to wake again.
Dressed in splendid finery, the society ladies mingled among the dignitaries and celebrated men of letters, seeking prey of their own—or masquerading as prey to attract the sort of hunter they found suitable.
They lowered their shoulder straps as much as they could, to show off their full, shapely figures, their proud bosoms, the smooth curve of their backs, and their fair skin flushed with a rosy glow.
The ladies' arrival filled the command headquarters with laughter and merriment.
"Advance!" The officer's command cracked like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. As if waking from a dream, the soldiers roared and surged toward the heart of the battlefield. Shells and rockets screamed overhead; all around them lay the mutilated corpses of French soldiers, and thick black smoke rolled across the ground.
Skirts swirled as young men and women took one another by the hand and began to dance. Their laughter and the increasingly lilting melody complemented each other, gradually falling into harmony.
The tremendous blast nearly deafened everyone. The soldiers couldn't make out what the junior NCOs at the front were shouting.
They only knew that when the smoke cleared, French soldiers had appeared right before them. Both sides immediately raised their rifles and exchanged fire. At last, their hearing returned, and the sound of gunfire crackled in their ears like popping beans.
When