Magazine article WLA ; War, Literature and the Arts

Pines-Fort Lee, Virginia

Magazine article WLA ; War, Literature and the Arts

Pines-Fort Lee, Virginia

Article excerpt

He tapped my shoulder below the rifle strap

and pointed ahead and up to the right:

"That

hillY'see them

pines?" Past the runnel of

sweat tracing the grimy concave of his

cheek from helmet strap to lip, the single

hill guarded our line of mud, our daily

march. "Y'know what them trees

mean?" I knew that

grove high in the upland saddle, a perfect

square of swaying green holding against the

swarm of darker woods and shapeless, nameless

brush. Especially in winter, when the

snow peered through sickly, brown stubble, that

stand was a vast square banner of living

green. "I know what it means," I laughed. "The flag of

life leading us home to a dream of

no-more-boots." He pushed his helmet back where a bit of his

hairthat blond silk, like baby hair-was

pasted flat to his skin; he turned away to

spit, then pointed up to the hill

again. …

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