The Pale Banner
The fog did not roll in; it arrived like a verdict, thick and white and smelling of wet iron and old blood. It swallowed the ridge at dawn, erasing the sky, the trees, and the men standing beside me in the mud. I am Thomas, twenty-five years old, a sergeant in the 4th Infantry, and I wanted to hold this line. I wanted to keep my men alive, to plant our feet in the earth and refuse to move until...
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