Page 62 of Walking Wounded

The sound of truck engines reached their ears, and they all migrated to the side of the road. Months later, Will would look back on this moment and think about what a callow idiot he’d been for assuming the trucks belonged tothem. That because it was an American MSR it meant it must be friendly forces headed their way. But in other ways he’d be glad for this moment.

A line of trucks came into view around the corner and started down the hill, moving slow and carefully. The backs were uncovered, and they were filled to the brim with…with…

He saw a hand, fingers gnarled into claws.

Bodies. They were filled with dead bodies.

Corpses that had frozen in grotesque pantomimes of movement, arms and legs outstretched, heads cracked back on their necks. They’d died, and they’d fallen, and they’d frozen that way. Too many of them to treat gently, they’d been stacked like cordwood, on their way back to the boats.

“Shit,” Finn breathed, head turned toward the nightmare.

“Hope they thaw before they put them in their coffins,” Hertz said quietly, his voice low and respectful.

The trucks thundered past, grisly payload swaying and jostling, American Army boys on the way back to their mothers.

Will decided his chafing wasn’t so bad after all. No one else in the company said a word of complaint.

///

Just before nightfall, a rice paddy took shape in the gloom alongside the road, its terraced shape unmistakable. “We’ll make camp here tonight,” Captain Stokes called, hands cupped around his mouth, breath fogging in a way that made him look more like a dragon than normal. “And for God’s sakes, don’t drink the water like those damn Army boys did, you’ll be shitting in your pants for weeks.”

“The water’s frozen, sir,” someone called, and several others laughed.

Will hadn’t planned to (Lt. Monroe had explained to them on the way over that Korean rice paddies were fertilized with human feces), but whoever had yelled was right. The paddy was frozen all to hell. It was like one sheet of ice stacked over the next, and the next.

“Shoulda brought my skates,” Murkowski said.

Without any discussion, the company broke down into their platoons to make camp, rifle teams sticking together and NCOs gravitating toward one another. They choked down C-rations in the twilight and crawled into their mummy bags with haste – the sooner they were wrapped up, the sooner they’d be warm. They’d lined their bags up close in hopes of sharing body heat, and in this strange frozen wilderness, Will’s only comfort was the familiarity of the men around them, and of Finn’s shape at his side.

“The stars are different,” Finn observed when they were on their backs, only their faces peeking out of the bags. “Different constellations.”

“Well, we’re on the other side of the world,” Will said. “We’re looking at a different night sky.”

And it wasn’t just the stars: Will couldn’t get the sense ofdifferentout of his nose, the way the air smelled and tasted unlike anything he’d ever sensed before. Beneath the killing cold, there were odors and flavors that held no place in his memory. The jungle, maybe? Or Korean earth. Or maybe death, again, the tang that superseded all others.

“How cold is it, I wonder?” someone asked.

Someone else said, “Zero degrees.”

The next morning, they’d learn that had been an accurate answer.

“Will,” Finn said, softly, so no one else could hear. “I’m really glad you’re with me. I think we’re gonna do great things.”

“Me too,” Will said, as sleep put its claws in him. “Me too.”

///

Will was up and dressed and packed the next morning before sunrise, grateful to have his boots back on, already wishing for his mummy bag again. Jesus, it wascold.

“I won’t ever complain about a Virginia winter again,” he told Finn as they leaned together, rubbing their hands and breathing on them in the vain hope it might instill some warmth in their fingers.

“No shit,” Finn said. His teeth were chattering. “I’d just as soon be marching already. I’d rather sweat than freeze to death.”

Around them, the makeshift camp was alive with cursing, foot-stomping, and hurried packing. First light turned the fog to something thick and pearlescent; five feet away, men were nothing but dark shapes. They could have been anyone. A chill snaked down Will’s back when he thought about how easy it would be for the enemy to slip into their midst unnoticed.

“Alright, listen up,” Captain Stokes called, voice echoing across the paddy, glancing sharply off the ice. “We’re assigning units this morning.”

“Shit,” Finn said, and Will’s stomach cramped up with fear.

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