POETS ALONG TRIDENT
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As the anaesthetic began to wear off. The ‘elf’ soldier. Let out a low wail. In the back of the ambulance. Then fumbled with his oxygen mask. And swore as he mumbled: “Give me my rifle.” A scrawny, mud-flecked 19-year-old. “They’re often like this. So much trauma.” Said a doctor. Stroking the […]