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He considered the weight of confession—admission of fear, of small kindnesses that did not make it into newspapers: how he had shared his last piece of bread with a private whose boots were full of water; how he’d whispered psalms for a boy whose mother’s name he did not know. He thought of the way courage often smelled less like trumpet brass and more like offered tobacco and held hands.

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: There are no privacy policies or data protection guarantees. Your personal information and browsing behavior are likely being tracked and sold to third parties. He considered the weight of confession—admission of fear,