Huddled in his tent, Ben watched the falling snow against the dark sky. Glancing around he saw men huddled together around campfires for warmth.
"Oh, to be warm again!" Ben thought, "Virginia springs with the flowers bursting into life, summers with their stifling heat." The agonizing scream of a man broke Ben's thoughts. Weeks ago he would have been filled with anxious curiosity over the terrifying sound, now he grew accustomed to it. It was the surgeon at work. Ben shivered and pulled the horse blanket around him tighter.
"Think of warm apple butter, of fresh blueberries," he continued to press his mind farther from the reality of the winter encampment. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to focus all his energy on being warm.
"Whad'ya doin?" Ben opened one eye in recognition of the voice. His friend Jeb sat down beside Ben and begun to unwind the tattered bandages from his feet. As Jeb rubbed warmth back into his feet, Ben asked, "When do you think you'll get new shoes?"
"When this army finally starts payin' us the wages its promised or me mother sends a pair. Either way, I don't be seein' them comin' soon." Jeb vigorously tried to rub some color back into his ashen feet. "At least they not be turnin' black yet, or worse green. They're just a tad cold, that all," he finished. Lying down, Jeb pulled his blanket close for warmth. Ben looked at the bloody tracks leading up to his tent, as they did to so many other tents and thanked G-d he still had sturdy shoes. Ben glanced back at his sleeping tent mate and then returned to gazing out at the snow. "What is the price of liberty?" he wondered.