Somewhere in the foothills of the Pyrenees, near the old smugglers' trails
The cold night air lay heavy across the hills, wrapping itself around twisted oaks and gnarled rocks like a damp shroud.
Far below, a winding road cut through the darkness, intermittently lit by the dim yellow beams of convoy lamps.
French tanks rumbled along in uneven columns; sleek by French standards, armored hulls sloped at newly experimental angles, turrets bristling with 47mm cannons.
These were older tanks designed to compete with the Panzer I in the years after the Great War, and were still the primary armored fighting vehicle in the French Arsenal.
Flanking them were a small number of heavy tanks with 75mm Guns. Freshly off of Paris's production lines.
The AMC-32s were flanked by trucks loaded with crates of shells, barrels of petrol, and men packed shoulder to shoulder, rifles resting on tired knees.