I pulled the hood off the man I was charged with and
shoved him out of the truck; he landed roughly on the dirt road, falling to his
knees.
“Up,” I commanded, dragging him to his feet and pushing
him towards the well-worn path leading into the forest.
The line of condemned and guards proceeded wordlessly
deep into the scrubby woods. After a quarter of an hour, we reached the place.
Shovels were distributed to the prisoners and they began digging.
After the last shovel of dirt was padded down, our
commander handed out shot glasses full of cheap whisky.
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