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... /p>
More than two hundred fresh-faced marines were split into squads, their boots pounding the training field as they went through their paces. Roya watched, a wave of memories washing over him.
I remember doing this.
"Tweet-tweet!"
The piercing whistle sliced through the air.
"Assemble!"
The instructors barked, and the recruits, their curiosity piqued, hustled to the center of the field. Days here usually blurred together, a constant stream of drills a ...
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