~*Chapter Six*~
Late that night, Radar was dozing fitfully on a creaky army-issue folding chair outside Henry's tent. Guarding him, one might say; now that he was back, the young Corporal wasn't about to lose his fatherlike Commanding Officer for a second time. He had tried to stay awake. Honestly, he had, but the evening's excitement had worn him out. The sound of the crickets' rejoicing chirps had gently lulled him into a peaceful sleep.
*
Gravel and dirt crunched together under the standard hole filled boots as Sergeant Rowland Demorest stalked across the dark compound, stopping occasionally to glance furitively about. It was nearly midnight; there was nobody around. In fact, the only ones awake would probably be the nurses on Post-Op duty. The others were collapsed on their cots. No doubt sleeping away the thought of what hangovers the morning would bring.
Had one been around to see, they would have noticed that this strange, secretive man was none other than the unfamiliar sergeant at the party, who had made some rather unfavorable comments about Henry. In fact, his exact words had been 'So who cares if the bastard lived? He shouldn't have. He deserved to die.' Not very nice, is it? Well, this tall man made his way across the small basketball ring, right towards Henry's tent. What he hadn't counted on, though, was Radar, who was still sleeping lightly outside the canvas abomination.
"Huh? Wha? Who's there?"
The young corporal started awake, his glasses falling down into his lap. Without them, he couldn't see the tall man running swiftly away, back towards the camp's perimiter. What he had seen, though, was the flash of steel that emitted from his hand; a knife.
Late that night, Radar was dozing fitfully on a creaky army-issue folding chair outside Henry's tent. Guarding him, one might say; now that he was back, the young Corporal wasn't about to lose his fatherlike Commanding Officer for a second time. He had tried to stay awake. Honestly, he had, but the evening's excitement had worn him out. The sound of the crickets' rejoicing chirps had gently lulled him into a peaceful sleep.
*
Gravel and dirt crunched together under the standard hole filled boots as Sergeant Rowland Demorest stalked across the dark compound, stopping occasionally to glance furitively about. It was nearly midnight; there was nobody around. In fact, the only ones awake would probably be the nurses on Post-Op duty. The others were collapsed on their cots. No doubt sleeping away the thought of what hangovers the morning would bring.
Had one been around to see, they would have noticed that this strange, secretive man was none other than the unfamiliar sergeant at the party, who had made some rather unfavorable comments about Henry. In fact, his exact words had been 'So who cares if the bastard lived? He shouldn't have. He deserved to die.' Not very nice, is it? Well, this tall man made his way across the small basketball ring, right towards Henry's tent. What he hadn't counted on, though, was Radar, who was still sleeping lightly outside the canvas abomination.
"Huh? Wha? Who's there?"
The young corporal started awake, his glasses falling down into his lap. Without them, he couldn't see the tall man running swiftly away, back towards the camp's perimiter. What he had seen, though, was the flash of steel that emitted from his hand; a knife.