I remember that day as if it were yesterday. Some memories are like that. Seared into your conscience, never to be washed away with time. Only four years old, but I remember every single detail of that horrid, wretched day...
I awoke screaming, although I wasn't sure why.
Then I heard it: shrieks. A hundred or more. The screams of my fellow Englishmen, and some foreign shrieks I couldn't identify.
Then I smelled it: smoke. A horrid stench. Not the wonderful smell of the crackling, sparking timber from the bonfire each night. No, this was a stench to make the weak of heart faint. And the weak of stomach lose their sup. It was the stench of burning huts and burning flesh.
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