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go. Everything would be fine.
Mark approached the cellar entrance, readying his hand to knock as he should (three quick hits and then two slow knocks).
And then a bayonet was thrust into his back. Wincing, he would have cried out if something hard hadn't been pounded into his head.
Consciousness left him slowly, the bayonet being pulled out of him as he groaned.
"Throw him in the stream." Ordered a deep voice.
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He stepped from the stream to the bank, sitting down and assessing what to do. Clearly, he had to tell the men that there were infiltrators.
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