Lithuania, Rukla military base, a Friday morning in mid-July, half past eight. Lieutenant Nils Beste walks briskly towards the parade ground in the middle of the barracks. He stops in front of an olive-green VW bus that has brought the stern team to the barracks. The red beret sits as if stapled to the razor-short hair. A curt greeting, a firm handshake. How is the situation, Herr Oberleutnant? "Special times," says Beste.
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