The Memorial Messenger - mbcwheatland

There was no look of sympathy. Or concern. They’d all learned to suffer. This was their reality. With nightfall, Braddock, through a nagging ache in his arms and shoulders, heard the prisoners snoring a sleep of exhaustion. Alone. Destitute. He’d not eaten for over a day. The guards in their huts talked, got drunk, played cards. ................
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