ENFILADE TO FUSSILADE
I ranged abruptly through a
military book, brooking the
range while climbing the hill
which needed taking. The
rat-tat-tat of an old-style
gun-strat ran ringingly
through the air. Dodging,
I held back, clutching
behind an oak tree -
hiding timorously
where I could not
see, and no one
could see me.
I ranged abruptly through a
military book, brooking the
range while climbing the hill
which needed taking. The
rat-tat-tat of an old-style
gun-strat ran ringingly
through the air. Dodging,
I held back, clutching
behind an oak tree -
hiding timorously
where I could not
see, and no one
could see me.
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