The Pale Banner

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2026-08-24 09:43:25 -

The Pale Banner

The mud was black and thick as oil, sucking at my boots with a wet, rhythmic pull that sounded like breathing. I stood on the ridge at Ypres, the air tasting of cordite and rot, and watched the German line advance through the gray fog. My men were gone. Or rather, most of them were. Private Miller was dead in the ditch to my left, his face frozen in a rictus of shock, but it was not his body I...

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