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Yanick’s ribs were broken, and his thigh was stabbed, his body limp like a clump of cotton.
He struggled to raise his head and locked eyes with a Cossack Cavalryman about twenty paces away. The cavalryman apparently couldn’t move either and was incessantly cursing in Russian.
Yanick spat at him and suddenly noticed a gunner, lying on a dead horse, seemed to twitch.
He hurriedly yelled over, “Sergeant, how are you doing?”
The gunner slowly turned his he ...
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