The sky over Reims was mercilessly clear.
A hard blue with no clouds whuch hardens the sun ray and make it very humid.
The grass around the training ground was already packed with everything.
Word had spread like fire in dry grass.
Once again a general from the High Staff was coming.
Not a clerk, not an attaché.
A general.
Real brass.
Real weight.
Like last time.
And not just any general Lieutenant General Dupré.
Veteran of the Eastern War, staff strategist at Strasbourg, rumored to have the ear of Gamelin himself.
Some names strike more harder in the ears of soilders than others.
Moreau stood at the edge of the parade ground, arms crossed, eyes on the road.
He didn't speak.
He just watched the gate like it was a loaded pistol.
"You look like a man waiting for a hurricane," de Gaulle muttered beside him.
"I'm hoping for a thunderstorm," Moreau replied. "That we can work with."
The staff car arrived five minutes early, gliding through the gate without fanfare.
