The walls seem to close in on us. How long we’ve been down here I could not say. Time holds no meaning. Our orders from General Clarke are clear. We are to advance on the enemy at 1100 hours. The atmosphere is cloying, the claustrophobia almost unbearable. Tick tock. Tick tock. I’m aware that my sense of foreboding is shared by the older men, though they would not admit it. I look across at Mr Anderson. His expression has been unchanged since the battle of Headingley. The eyes are glassy and...
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