He bent low. His back ached. He could smell the earth below his face, the stinking, ever-present mud. Mercifully, free of gas. For now. The soft lip of the trench - or, what had been a trench before German artillery had blasted it to ever-living hell - was a dim reflection in the early morning …
Continue reading "“Of the Highest Order:” June 16, 1918"
The Angry Staff Officer 
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