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... eline when the first whistles pierced the cold air.
Private Delcourt wheezed as he ran, trying to keep pace in the column.
Around him, curses flew.
"Pick it up, Delcourt!" hissed Corporal Lemaitre beside him.
"If you fall out again, Chalon’s going to skin you."
Delcourt grunted. "Tell Chalon he can...."
A shrill bellow cut across the field.
"YOU THINK THIS IS A MORNING STROLL, DELCOURT?! I’LL HAVE YOU MOPPING TANK TREADS WITH YOUR TONGUE IF ...
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