The testing grounds at Innsbruck were quiet that morning, save for the muffled thuds of rifle fire echoing off the surrounding peaks.
The snow had been packed hard under the boots of the engineers, forming a crude parade square where the latest fruits of the Zehntner war machine were being demonstrated.
Bruno stood with his hands clasped behind his back, Feldmarschall Sepp Dietrich and a cluster of senior ordnance officers flanking him.
In front of them, a soldier stepped forward, the new model infantryman.
Gone were the plain wool tunic and leather webbing of yesterday's armies.
In its place, a garment in the Blumentarn pattern, its surface oddly smooth, almost waxen to the touch.
I was made from a durable blend of cotton and polyester, featuring a ripstop weave.
Spun in the Zehntner chemical works, lighter than linen, but strong enough to endure the wars to come for decades.
