Perched on the edge of his cot, BJ watches the rhythmic fall of the rain, unconsciously swaying to the hidden beat. Outside, the soil washes away, a world of mud in it's place. The steady pit-pat lulls him into a state he can't rightly name, and doesn't care to. Wounded are on the way, and the slippery ground will prove to be a nuisance, but for now, BJ welcomes the rain.
Slipping inside a poncho, he wonders if the rain will wash them all away, and take the war with it.
Only part of him wishes the downpour would end.