Scratch scratch scratch went Colonel Austin's pen over the smooth white sheets of paper, sheet after sheet. The dead heat of Tampa hung heavy within the tent; the buzz of the flies was most distressing; but the reports must be got off, and after them there were letters to be written to "the Boy and his Mother" up North, telling them-especially the Boy-what a glorious thing it is to serve one's country under any circumstances. The present circumstances...
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