Danielle Bean

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It’s gotten quite dark by now. We skirt a small grove of trees and arrive at our section of the front. An indistinct reddish glow stretches along the horizon from one end to the other. It’s constantly in motion, punctuated by flashes from the muzzles of the artillery. Star shells shoot up into the air above it, silver and red balls that burst and rain down in white, green, and red stars. French rockets rise up, unfurl their silk parachutes in the air, and very slowly float down. They illuminate everything as bright as day, their light reaches us, we can see our shadows sharply on the ground. ...more
All Quiet on the Western Front
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