When Dramba finished the communications trench to the sighting point, Gack stopped him, jumped down into the trench, and went over the position. It had been dug beautifully. A trench with ideally smooth walls, slanting outward slightly, the bottom tamped down compactly, without any loose earth or other debris, everything exactly according to regulations. It led to the firing point, a perfectly circular pit two meters in diameter, with beam-covered dugouts for supplies and the crew facing the rear. Gack looked at his watch. The position had been dug in two hours and ten minutes. His Highness’s Engineer’s Academy could be proud of such work. Gack glanced at Dramba. Private Dramba towered above him, above the edge of the trench. His enormous palms were pressed against his thighs, elbows out,
