The Last Stand at Dawn

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2026-06-02 08:07:01 -

I. The fog clung to the Rhodesian bushveld like a shroud, thick and grey and smelling of wet earth and something older—dust that had not known rain for a year, the rusted iron of abandoned mines, the distant copper tang that every soldier in Africa learned to associate with coming violence. Captain Alistair Blackwood lay prone on a termite mound that rose thirty feet above the valley floor, his...

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