“His mind was half on what he was doing and half on the possibilities tumbling over themselves in his head. And Hamish too was there, arguing first one side and then the other, a distraction he couldn’t escape. It was nearly eight o’clock when he left the Yard. The days were growing shorter, the long hours of sunlight dwindling toward autumn. He had hated the long days in the trenches, the sun beating down, bringing up the stinking miasma that was always there, until he could smell it ev...en when he’d left the front lines, as if it had been absorbed by his pores. Hot, unable to escape the heat, helmets seeming to burn straight into the brain, thirsty, never enough water, never mind fresh water, and then the final agony, charging across No Man’s Land. No chance to bathe, shaving only because the gas mask had to fit, even a fresh uniform filthy before it could be enjoyed, and always the knowledge that if rain came, it would be worse, and sometimes the low-lying mists afterward hiding the deadly gas.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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