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The morning was quiet, unnaturally quiet.
Captain Arturo Bianchi crouched behind a ruined stone wall, his uniform stained by five months of dust and blood.
The sun was rising over the Ethiopian plateau.
Every few minutes, the noise of an reconnaissance plane broke the silence.
Bianchi turned to his radio operator.
"Any word from forward scouts?"
The man shook his head. "No resistance so far. The capital looks...empty."
Bianchi exh ...
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