The checkpoint was unmanned now. C Company had chased the last patrol away and they'd made no effort to return. What was once a local symbol of oppression felt now diminished. The shed that once kept soldiers dry held potatoes, a makeshift honesty box for passersby. Children played on the tower, making rat-tat-tat noises while they brandished sticks at passers-by, seemingly oblivious to the true meaning of the place. They were resilient, after all. The tank traps had been moved into a nearby ditch and the barrier was left open. Freedom was the order of the day and with any luck, it would stay that way.
RANGE: Normandy Farm