The Pale Banner
The mud sucked at his boots like a hungry mouth. Sergeant Elias Thorne drove his bayonet forward, the steel singing a thin, high note as it pierced the air. He did not see the face of the man he was killing. He saw only the uniform, the dark wool, the insignia of the state. The body fell. The mud took it. Elias stood alone in the gray field. The battle was over. The silence was heavier than the...
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