The line was holding.
Wave after wave of the enemy kept rushing towards their position, and falling back with slightly fewer of their number. They would regroup, then return after a few moments and try once more to break through.
They had to hold, if they lost this battle they would lose everything. They were the final stand, the final troops. They were fighting for the civilians behind them, their families. They fought with all they had.
Far inside the enemy lines, a general looked through his eyeglass, while another one stood nearby.
"How is it?"
"The line was holding."
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