When I first saw the small object noisily lumbering up the road toward Milhaud pier, I laughed inside.
How could the Germans expect to take me with that little thing?
Read MoreWhen I first saw the small object noisily lumbering up the road toward Milhaud pier, I laughed inside.
How could the Germans expect to take me with that little thing?
Read MoreOur Pals battalion of Liverpool Volunteers is a hive of activity today as we prepare for the attack. For more than two days, our artillery has been pounding the Hun line. We’ll be surprised if there’s anyone left over there by the time we’re ordered to go over the top.
Once past Doug, we each approach the assault trench in our own way. Some are silent, others boisterous. I am not in the mood for conversation. Instead, my mind focuses on my goal.
Survive this attack and make it back.
Read MoreMy shaking hand is grasped around a shell casing, holding it tightly as I slowly lift the shaped metal cone to my worktable. I can’t help but admire the smooth boring lines of the casing, the soft filed-down edges, and the engineering that went into making this 20-millimeter killing container.
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