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Creatures of the night that explode in murderous rage

I've never met a gunner who, I felt, inhabited the same time-space continuum as me.

Standing on my lawn with a soldier friend some years ago, he looked at a middle-distance hilltop and mused happily, "Ridgeline, 2,000 metres, forward slope no dead ground, ranging fire: ah, easy," or something preposterously gunnerish like that.

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