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By Root 2496 0

the Virginian so familiar with the same kinds of stories passed along by Temple’s grandfather. If there were differences between them, it came from Parker’s upbringing, a family too poor to own a farm, to own anything at all, surviving from whatever bounty they could scour from the Allegheny Mountains. Like every big man, Parker had attracted challenges to his strength, to his skills as a fighter, made worse by the teasing he endured because of his slow, deep drawl. In the early days at Quantico, Temple had wondered if Parker would simply defer the verbal attacks, all the old Sunday school lessons about turning the other cheek. But Parker had surprised him, and everyone else as well. The big man had a temper, and when the teasing had gone beyond the man’s quiet patience, he would seem to uncoil, his fists becoming deadly weapons. Temple had not been surprised by Parker’s raw strength, knew that any man who grows up poor in rough country is made strong by all he must do to survive. In a few short weeks, the entire company had seen enough of Parker to know that in a fight, this quiet and devout man from the rugged mountains of western Virginia, was a man you wanted on your side.

The truck stopped abruptly, the men pushed forward by their momentum. The sergeant stood now, shouted to no one in particular, “What the hell? All right, stay put.” Dugan peered out around the rear of the truck, looked back to the convoy behind them, the trucks all lurching close together, avoiding the collisions. Dugan jumped down now, said, “We’re being held up for some damned reason. Nobody move.” He disappeared toward the front of the truck. Temple looked across at Scarabelli, who said, “Somebody’s lost up there. We’re gonna end up in Switzerland.”

Dugan was back now, slapped the side of the truck. “Out! This is the end of the ride. We march now.”

They all stood, and Temple waited his turn, then dropped to the ground. He could see back along the road behind them, orders shouting out, the snaking line of trucks disgorging the rest of the regiment. The column formed quickly, the familiar routine, and in minutes, the Marines began to step along past the trucks. The officers were in motion as well, some moving back along the column, others gathering near the trucks at the lead of the convoy. Temple pulled at the strap on his rifle, straightened his helmet, kept one eye on the man in front of him, the old habits from so many weeks of drill. He had always been intrigued by officers, the men who knew, imagined himself in that uniform, carrying his stiff formality even in the field. Like the enlisted men, the uniforms of the officers were different than what they wore at Quantico. They resembled the British, with the wide “Sam Brown” belt, and Temple had rarely seen boots that weren’t perfectly polished, each man with the billed hat pulled low over eyes that saw beyond what the enlisted men could ever see. He watched them as he marched past, heard one lieutenant say something about the old man. The words intrigued him, casual reference to the man with the power. Who? he thought. General Bundy? General Harbord? He stared again to the front, thought, Everyone’s an old man compared to us, except maybe the sergeant. He glanced up to a cloudy sky, could feel the sun on his back, dropping low behind the column. We’re moving east, he thought. All those rumors about going north . . . no one’s saying anything about that now. I guess the First Division doesn’t need our help after all. He saw the column wavering in front of him, men moving off the side of the road. Now he saw why they had to walk.

Far out in front of the column, the road was choked with traffic, clouds of dust rising above wheeled carts, small wagons, livestock, and, for as far as he could see, a massive throng of people. They began to pass by him now, and the column was moving to one side, clearing the way. The man in front of him stopped, and Temple did the same, could see that the entire column was coming to a halt. There was an intersection up ahead, and the wave of people and vehicles was