The Distant Summer

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 05:35:20 -

The mud of the Somme did not smell of death, as the poets of London had imagined it would, but of wet iron and old rot, a thick, cloying scent that clung to the wool of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s uniform and burrowed into the pores of his skin, a physical weight that pressed against his lungs with every labored breath. He was a man of forty-three years, though the war had aged him into something...

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