re2035juvenal

@@@@@There were bamboo groves and bushes and plants, vines, and a few trees whose roots grew horizontally into the mountain and whose trunks bent upward in an L toward the skyThere was mud, of course, from all the rains that had trickled down the rocks, and leaves and plants and thorns restricted their passage It was a stairway, but not a convenient oneThey carried the weight of a suitcase on their backs, and they had to climb what amounted to forty flights of stairsTo give an added fillip, the stairs were not of equal heightSometimes they would clamber from one waist-high rock to another, and sometimes they would scrabble up a slope of pebbles and small rocks; sometimes indeed each rock was of a different height and shape than the one that had preceded itAnd the stairway, of course, was littered, so that often they would have to push aside foliage or cut through vines Croft had estimated it would take an hour to ascend the wall of the amphitheater, but after an hour they were only halfway upThe men struggled behind him like a wounded caterpillarThey never traveled all at onceA few would advance over a rock and wait for the others to catch upThey advanced in ripples, Croft toiling ahead a few yards and the rest of the platoon filling the gap in a series of spasmodic lurches which traveled like a shock impulseOften they would halt while Croft or Martinez hacked slowly through a tangle of bambooIn a few places the stairway leaped upward in a big bound of seven or ten feet of muddy earth up which they climbed by clutching at roots Once more the platoon dropped from one layer of fatigue to another, but this had happened so often in the past few days that it was almost familiar, almost livableWith no surprise they felt their legs become numb, trail after them like a toy which a child drags on a stringNow the men no longer stepped from one high rock to anotherThey dropped their guns on the shelf above, flopped over and dragged their legs after themEven the smallest rocks were too great to step overThey lifted their legs with their arms, and placed their feet on the step before them, tottered like old men out of their beds for an hour Every minute or two someone would stop and lie huddled on the rocks, weeping with the rapt taut sobs of fatigue that sound so much like griefIn empathy a swirl of vertigo would pass from one to the other and they would listen with a morbid absorption to the racking sounds of dry nauseaOne or another of them was always retchingWhen they moved they were always fallingThe climb up the rocks slippery with mud and vegetation, the vicious thorns of bamboo thicket, the blundering of their feet against the jungle vines, all blended into one vast tormen