Thursday, May 5, 2016

Sniper Comments

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The snow was blowing among the trees. In large wet flakes it tumbled down.
My captain turned, as if to speak, but from his lips there came no sound.
A red rose bloomed there on his chest -staining dark the Wehrmacht grey.
I looked in horror as he pitched face forward to the ground.
...
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John F. McCullagh
snow
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John F. McCullagh

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John F. McCullagh
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