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... n wars.
The staff car continue across the road.
Moreau sat back in the passenger seat.
He didn't speak.
Not to the driver.
Not to the wind.
His mind was elsewhere among corpses, last screams, broken rifles, and the fresh graves at Ridge Bravo.
He was halfway there when the car slowed.
"Sir?" his driver called. "We've got a roadblock. Military checkpoint. One officer."
Moreau leaned forward.
Standing beside a sandbagg ...
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