and barracks. A sharp calm was over all, not a soul stirring, not even the lonely troops standing guard. Private Wallace was one such soldier, sitting at his post, desperately fighting the drowsiness that was creeping over him like darkness. His resolve was beginning to wither, his heavy eyelids slamming shut over his green orbs. Not a second passed that a light was flashed at his face, snapping him out of his induced state. The private immediately recognized the bearer of the light as Corporal Smith. This made Wallace uneasy. Ever since they had arrived at camp after the patrol, Smith was constantly watching him. He knew that Wallace had seen the man underneath the Jeep, the one that Smith failed to ever mention, he assumed. He had only gotten a brief glimpse, but it seemed clear to Private Wallace that the man was alive. The corporal left him to die.
“Private,” the corporal snapped in a low tone.
“Yes sir,” Wallace mumbled in reply.
“Get all you gear, you’re coming with me.”
“What?” Wallace muttered. “Why?”
“I’m not answering any questions and I’m not making any requests. Get your gear now. Bring plenty of water.”
The private begrudgingly crept into his barrack and suited up, strapping on his heavy pack and making sure each canteen was full. He had learned that here it’s better not to question an officer. There was too much frustration brewing among the command. Any refusal of serious questioning resulted in a mess that would keep Wallace from getting home anytime soon.
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