Sand in the Wind by Robert Roth

and he stared at his dust- and mud-covered boots as they moved, as if by themselves, one in front of the other.
    Tony 5 yelled back at him in an irritated voice, “ Get your head up! What the fuck you looking at? Watch the flanks.”
    He raised his head and looked off the side of the road towards the river ‘God, wouldn’t mind splashing around in that thing for a while.’
    They marched for another two hours before word was passed from the rear to hold up the column. He turned around to see Graham sprawled on his back with a corpsman looking over him. Everybody started to sit down, Chalice being one of the first and nearly losing his balance.
    Harmon called out in a voice loud enough for everybody in the squad to hear, “Hey Tony, I told you he was a shitbird.” Chalice felt relieved that he hadn’t been the one to quit. He sat looking towards the river. A young boy, up to his knees in water, led a water buffalo with two smaller children on its back. Chalice moved over a few feet in order to balance his pack on a rock. This took the weight off of his shoulders. His left arm had fallen asleep soon after the first break. He now massaged it and brought the feeling back, reminding himself to buy an Arvin pack the first chance he got. They sat for fifteen minutes before Trippitt ordered the point to start moving again. Harmon and the corpsman pulled Graham to his feet.
    An amtrack, a large tanklike vehicle used to transport troops and supplies, lay on its side just off the road. A mine had ripped a large hole in its armor-plated bottom directly under the driver’s seat. ‘Bet they had to scrape that guy off the roof.’ After another hour of marching, Chalice turned around to see how Graham was doing. ‘Hope he falls on his face pretty soon. Could use another break.’ The sweat dripping from his forehead seemed to be burning his eyes raw. Constantly blinking them didn’t help. Shimmering waves of thick, humid air rose up from the road. Chalice glanced at the sun. It looked about four hours from setting. ‘Doubt we’ll march after dark. Hour to set in. Three, three more hours of humping   .   .   .   Can make that.’ An hour later he was walking in a daze, his thoughts jumping from subject to subject, putting one foot in front of the other as if it were the natural thing to do. As tired as he was, Chalice knew that if he could keep on his feet, he’d keep moving. The column trudged on for another hour before the word to hold up was passed from the rear. He turned to see Graham lying on his back again. ‘Thank God, thought he’d never drop.’ Chalice sat down, careful to face outward. ‘Lucky in my platoon. He’ll come in handy.’
    Tony 5 walked over to check on Graham. On his way back he stopped to talk to Chalice. “That’s one gutless motherfucker.”
    Chalice looked up. “Man, I’m dead myself.”
    “Everybody is. You get better at it, but you never get used to it.”
    “How much farther we got?”
    “Ain’t sure. We were supposed to stop about two klicks back. The Skipper must of changed his mind. About another hour I guess.”
    “I can make that all right.”
    “You better be able to.”
    Graham finally got back on his feet, and the columns started moving again. Knowing they’d be stopping pretty soon, Chalice felt a lot stronger. In less than an hour they reached the remains of a burned-down pagoda. The columns peeled off the road and circled it.
    Harmon went around to his men, telling them the company would sit tight until an hour before dusk, then cross the road and set-in between it and the river. Chalice looked around and saw everyone taking off their packs. As soon as he got his own pack off, a feeling of weightlessness ran through his body and he felt as if he were going to float off the ground. He moved his arms to get the circulation going again. Seeing the other men opening cans of C-rations, Chalice pulled a can of pears out of his pack. He fumbled to open it, his tongue sticking