The war, Stevie is told, with its white-tailed rockets and hard crack ricochets, the war, with its thumping whirl of trembling choppers, the war, with its shirtless gun crews manning steel wheeled cannons, the war, with its fine plumed shells cutting silver arcs through infinite sky, the war, with its lumbering tanks and sun bleached bunkers, the war, with its steep, lush highlands, emerald lattice of checkerboard paddies, the war, with its ma...
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