The echo in a bunker is a layered texture that bends the frequency of every command, turning a crisp “move forward” into a stretched, almost other‑worldly vibration. That delay between the spoken word and its return can blur the urgency, making the soldiers feel less direct and more measured, like a heartbeat that’s been muted by walls. In that space the lower frequencies build a thick, almost physical hum, while the high end gets absorbed, leaving a muted, emotional residue that can creep into the mind of the troops. It’s like a composition of war—each reverberation a note that shifts the entire narrative.