The Golden Greenhouse
I woke in a trench. Mud sucked at my boots. The rain was acid. It burned. I checked my gear. The rifle was cold. The stock was wood. The metal was steel. I knew this drill. I knew the smell. Wet wool. Rust. Fear. My name is Sergeant Elias Thorne. I am a man of law. I enforce order. Or I did. The war had eaten the law. Now we only ate the enemy. "Move up," I said. My voice was gravel. Private...
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