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Chapter 681: Modern Warfare
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Chapter 683: Disarmed Combatants
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... e days, engines, flares, the quick staccato of men dying, and only now, in the small pocket between orders, had Erich allowed himself to sit.
He held the tin cup with both hands as if the metal itself might steady him.
The coffee was scorched and black and terrible, but it burned a way through the frost of fatigue and warmed his palms.
A cigarette hung from his mouth like a made-up prop; he did not feel the habit so much as the shape of it, the way ritual sometimes steadi ...
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