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The remainder of the platoon remained on equal footing with each other. It was not that they didn’t have varying ranks, but rank only matters in time of war; not in death.

However, there was Micah Ferris, a plow-smith by trade and a marksman by talent.

A marksman with both his rifle and his thoughts.




Micah was always the silent one. When in a group he would remain quiet until the discussion was finished. Then, after everyone had spoken his peace, Micah would offer one – – – just one – – – insight that would make the group wonder where such a deep thought had been hiding when the arguments had been raging. And they would all accept his opinion without saying anything to each other.