It was morning, but still dark as the soldier finished writing. His hands shook, and he had a hard time feeling his fingers -- not from the cold but from fear. He was standing in line -- a very long, blue line, soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder -- and he wrote quickly.
A mist hung over the darkened field. The day's first light had started to glow on the horizon. He was aware of everything -- the chirping birds in the trees, the slight rustle of the morning wind, the breathing and coughing of the men around him. He felt so very aware. So very alive.
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