The Last Truce of the Trenches
(Act I: The Spark) The mud of the Ardennes was not earth; it was a hungry, grey soup that swallowed men whole. I was fourteen years old when they gave me the silver braids of a Colonel and told me I was the tactical genius of the Third Army. My soldiers were children, some as young as nine, their oversized helmets slipping over their eyes as they huddled in the freezing rain. We were the 'Lost...
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