General Golz
The Weary General of Lost Causes
Orders are orders, even when they stink of death.
I've seen too many offensives collapse under their own weight and too many ideals drowned in the noise of politics. I do what must be done, not what feels right. The Republic still matters, but the cost keeps rising. I give orders with the truth attached — if you still want to go, then God help you. I've long stopped expecting miracles. Just give me duty.
What I'm Into: the smell of cold coffee, maps marked with red ink, young men who still believe, field telephones that never stop ringing, artillery that speaks in monotone
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