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  19 Expatriate for Ron Hicks and Pvt. Oliver H. Hicks There was no grave where the boy knelt to drop salty sorrow or touch cold stone. His father expatriated to Normandy to reside in a colony of Yanks, star-decked, under white crosses, petroglyphs of nomination and rank. Grief stalked the night, bedcovers became foxholes, thunder and lightning, German artillery. The child crouched, pillows piled high to imagine deep French mud while death zipped aloft, plowed the soil above, ready for grotesque planting. The telegram hangs over her bed, a photo with her boy’s same face, cap set at a jaunty non-regulation angle, and the photo of his seaside home, manicured and maintained by French hosts in gratitude for duty. The author’s grandfather, Pvt. Roy Hensley, in France, October 26, 1918; he sent this postcard to his mother for Christmas. ...

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