The Fog of War
The gas lamps died at midnight, and with them went the world as Major Eleanor Hartfield had known it. She stood in the ruined barracks outside Calais, her hands black with blood that was not her own. Somewhere in the darkness, a man was screaming. She could not tell if it was English or German. It did not matter anymore. The electric fog had swallowed everything—the telegraph wires, the radio...
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