semiviser0108

The sun was fierce once more And the hills were always risingAll morning the platoon plodded through the tall grass, climbing slowly, trudging through valleys, laboring awkwardly around the slopes of the hillsTheir fatigue started again, their breath grew short, and their faces burned from the sun and the exertionNow, no one was talking, and they progressed sullenly in file The sun clouded over, and it began to rainThis was pleasant at first, for the rain was cool and stirred a breeze along the top of the grass, but soon the ground turned soft and their shoes fouled with mudBy degrees they became completely wet againTheir heads drooping, their rifle muzzles pointed toward the ground to avoid the rain, the file of men looked like a row of wilted flowersEverything about them sagged The terrain had altered, become rockierThe hills were steeper now, and dior saddle some of them were covered with a waist-high brush of low thickets and flat-leafed plantsFor the first time since they had left the jungle they passed a grove of treesThe rain halted, and the sun began to burn again, directly overheadThe platoon halted in a tiny grove, and the men stripped their packs, and ate another rationWilson fingered his crackers distastefully, mouthed down a square of cheese"Ah heard this binds a man up," he said to Red "Hell, it must be good for something Wilson laughed, but he was confusedAll morning his diarrhea had plagued him, his back and groin had achedHe could not understand why his body had deserted him soHe had always prided himself on being able to do as much as any other man, and now he had to drag along at the tail of the column, pulling himself over even the smallest hills by tugging at the kunai grassHe had been miu miu nappa doubled up with cramps, had sweated terribly, his pack abusing his shoulders like a block of concrete"Ah swear, Red, Ah'm jus' shot to hell insideWhen Ah get back Ah'm gonna have that op-per-rationAh ain't good for a fuggin thing without it "Ah mean it, Red, Ah'm jus' holdin' back the whole platoon"You think we're in a hurry?" "Naw, but Ah cain't help frettin' over itWhat ifen we fall into somethin' when we're goin' through the passMan' Ah've plumb forgot what a tight ass-hole feels like"Aaah, you just take it easy, boy He was unwilling to involve himself with Wilson's troubleNothin' I can do, he told himselfThey went on eating slowly In a few minutes Hearn gave the order to move again, and the platoon filed out of the grove, and trudged forward in the sunAlthough the rain had halted, the hills were mucky, and steam arose from themThe men marched with tiffany toggle necklace drooping bodies, the line of hills extending endlessly before themSlowly, strung out in a file almost a hundred yards long, they weaved through the grass, absorbed in the varied aches and sores of their bodiesTheir feet were burning, and their thighs quivered with fatigueAbout them the hills shimmered in the noon heat, and a boundless nodding silence had settled over everythingThe whirring of the insects was steady and not unpleasantTo Croft and Ridges, even to Wilson, it brewed vague warm images of farm lands in summer heat, quiet and bountiful, stirring only in the fragile traceries a butterfly might make against the skyThey drifted through a train of memories, idly, as if they were sauntering down a country road, seeing again the fertile roll of the fields, smelling in the musty damp germination of this earth after the rain the ancient redolent odors of chloe black chloe black plowed land and sweating horses The sunlight, the heat, was everywhere, dazzling For an hour they marched uphill almost constantly, and then halted at a stream to fill their canteensThey rested for fifteen minutes and went on againTheir clothing had been wet at least a dozen times, from the ocean spray, from the river, their sweat, from sleeping on the ground, and each time it dried it left its stainsTheir shirts were streaked with white lines of salt, and under their armpits, beneath their belts, the cloth was beginning to rotThey were chafed and blistered and sunburned; already some of them were limping on sore feet, but all these discomforts were minor, almost unnoticed in the leaden stupor of marching, the fever they suffered from the sunTheir fatigue had racked them, exploited all the fragile vaults of their bodies, the leaden apathy of their omega constellation muscle