The Well at Takasaki The dirt road leading into Takasaki was choked with the dust…
The first light of dawn over Luzon did not break so much as it bled…
The Atlantic in June of 1943 was a gray, merciless void. For weeks, the USAT…
The Dust and the Illusion The train did not smell of Europe. It smelled of…
The air in the upper reaches of the Huron National Forest didn’t just feel cold;…
The fog in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest did not merely drift; it seemed to…
The Shadow of Gypsy Meadow Into the Ancient Cedars The Pacific Northwest does not merely…
The rain had a way of flattening the world out here, turning the jagged peaks…
The Sound of the Silence My name is Michael Vance, though most people just call…
The Weight of the Woods The mountain air in the southern stretches of the Appalachian…