Wet snow turns into drizzling rain. Thanks to some diplomatic backing and the security clearance of the German and French embassies in Stockholm, I got finally authorization from the Swedish armed forces headquarters to enter the military facility on Gotland, a strategically important island in the middle of the Baltic Sea. Crouching down into the muddy soil I try best as I can to catch the tense faces of the young soldiers deployed across the coniferous woodland, passing a hidden tank, pausing behind some rocks for a few seconds, then silently moving further towards a trench that separates a small ridge from a large open meadow. It’s like a choreographed war-ballet, every single fighter fitting smoothly into the well-trained mechanism of their squad. Suddenly some dark silhouettes appear in the grassland ahead. Squad leader Benjamin commands: “Open Fire!”