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North American (General)Transcript
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the battlefield that earlier had been filled with the roar of cannons and screams of young men dying was now silent. The smell of death and gunpowder still hot, chilly night air in front of the general's tent, a small campfire cast an eerie glow across the canvas entrance way. A guard pull back the canvas flap to allow a young soldier, Cason Carter, to enter. Come in, son, and have a seat. I understand your sergeant, but things in this war just the way you hoped they would be. Well, that's the way warriors most of the time. How old are you, soldier? I just turned 17 Serre said. Jason. Well, you still got a lot of living ahead of your son. She went to the quarry and saw him from a distance and walk straight to him. You know, she said casually, he stopped the Drew, leaned against a stone shelf and answered, Hello, I've been thinking of you, she said softly, and stopped because there's a bit of a dirty job to be told in my house. Would you like to impact some extra money? Certainly, Mrs Falcone. What time shall I come at seven o'clock. What do you paid here? 72 cents an hour, he said. Well, I'm sure you were that she walked away feeling that their secret understanding was not lost.