A feel for the land

Snooze and Bull assigned Tom with Brando and Wizard late that afternoon when the platoon set up night defensive position near the top of a small hill. A north-south trail snaked across the western slope of the hill. The LT placed First Squad on the northern slope, across the trail and tying in with Second Squad forward and west of the trail. Third Squad dug in left of Second, positions arching south and east. Fourth Squad covered the eastern slope. Platoon Headquarters -- the LT, Sergeant Reid, platoon medic Doc Matthews and radio operators Steve Jennings and Darryl Bolton -- set up west of the trail, just below the hill crest and behind Second Squad.

          Snooze and Bull allowed Second Squad a short break before time to haul out E-tools and hack at the red dirt and dig foxholes for the night. Tom rested his M-16 against his right leg and unslung the SKS and both rucksacks, dropping the packs onto the ground. He sat down, then unbuckled his pistol belt and leaned against the larger ruck and took off his helmet. Wizard and Brando stood for a moment. Wizard held his M-60 machine gun angled across his chest. From the squad’s part of the perimeter, the hill sloped gently into a small valley. A narrow stream wound through the valley. Thick jungle surrounded the hill.

          Tom looked up at Wizard and Brando. “Sit down.” he said. “You’re making me tired.”

          Wizard continued staring at the grassy slope and the trees that began just short of the stream. “Got to get a feel for it,” he said quietly. “You got to feel the land.”

          Tom nodded. “I’ll buy that. You want me to stand up, get a feel for it?”

          Brando glanced down. “Whatever you want, Tom. Me and Wizard and everybody else’ll carry you one week. After that, you better know.”

          Tom blushed. He stood and stared the same direction as Wizard and Brando. “Are we looking for avenues of approach?”

          “We ain’t looking for anything,” Wizard said. “We’re getting a feel.”

          After a time, Wizard and Brando sat on the ground. Both lit cigarettes. Tom also sat. He took a canteen and drank three swallows of water.

          “How come you’re called Brando?” he asked while sliding the canteen back into its holder.

          Brando grinned. “My girl back home, her name’s Stella. You know, like in that Brando movie where he stands on the sidewalk and yells her name?”

          Tom nodded. “I know the one you’re talking about, but I never saw the movie. Only that one scene.”

          “Me neither,” Brando said.

          Wizard lay the machine gun across his thighs. “I saw it. Didn't make much sense. That dude, man he was a dumb fuck. No balls. He wanted the girl, how come he didn’t just go inside, tell her?”

          “Beats me,” Tom said.

          Brando snorted. “They wouldn’t have had much of a movie if he’d done that.”

          “Guess not,” Wizard said.    

          Bull walked up from the south. A cigarette hung from the left corner of his mouth. He grinned. “You ain’t got that hole dug yet?”

          Brando pointed with a thumb. “We’re waitin for Tom to get started.”

          Tom clambered to his knees and unsnapped the E-tool carrier attached to his ruck. “New guys get all the shit details, huh.”

          Brando grinned. “You learnin, Tom.”