many victims over years, so why did this one matter? His story, his colors, and the ones he left behind. Those are what interested me. I met Private Derek Archer that December day in 1917, along with many others, on the blood drenched battle ground of Cambrai, France. The sky was a color I will never forget. A smoky greyish-red, with black lighting struck across it. The humans were scurrying through their trenches like lab rats in a maze. My presence was constant in those trenches; and I breezed…
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