Not fifty yards away was a great shell-hole with thirty crosses sticking from it, some barely rising out of the pooled rainwater...
"To the legion of the lost one, to the cohort of the damned..."
Hodgson looked through his glass again, and an exclamation escaped his lip. His mouth went dry. Behind the German lines, unbelievably enormous, loomed a twisted house...
He woke with a gasp. He was lying at the bottom of the deep crater where he and his subordinates had taken refuge...
Copyright 2001–2019 by Andy Robertson, Kate Coady, Tais Teng, Martin Isitt, Stephen Fabian, et alii.