The Wistful Witness
The ink on the form was wet, a dark smear against the grey paper. "Lost in action," the clerk said, not looking up from his ledger. "Standard procedure for the 14th. You are erased, Sergeant." Elias Thorne stood in the mud of the Somme, the rain turning the ground to a slurry that sucked at his boots. In his hand, he clutched a letter from his brother, Thomas. The paper was soft, worn thin by...
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