awoke sitting in a trench, there we were, sitting, waiting, talking, dreading, praying; it felt like hours had gone by, but in reality only minutes. It wasn’t long before I started to dream of when I was a child again, the cold metal feel of the gun reminded me of the merry-go-round in the park near where I grew up, a small village in Devon called Russington, I lived down Towers Lane, and my best friend lived next door, his name was Bill Smith. The moment I thought of his face was the moment my dream…
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