This one was to the tune of “Old King Cole was a Merry Old Soul.” I recognized it from car trips we used to take. Dad would chant to us while he drove, and we would call the lines back to him. This particular cadence worked like the Twelve Days of Christmas, working its way up the Army ranks with each stanza, and adding to it until it was complete.
Tex’s voice rang out in perfect tune, and we called it back to him, marching to the beat. With every word, I was covered in nostalgia. A contented look was on Remy’s face as she listened.
Old King Cole was a merry old soul a merry old soul was he, uh-huh . . .
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl and he called for his Generals three, uh-huh . . .
Somebody start a war, said the Generals . . .
Somebody shine my boots, said the Colonels . . .
Somebody drive my Jeep, said the Majors . . .
I wanna take that hill, said the Captains . . .
What do I do next, said the Looies . . .
Push, push, push, said the Drill Sergeants . . .
Left right left, said the Sergeants . . .
I want a three day pass, said the Corporals . . .
Beer, beer, beer said the Privates . . .
Merry men are we. . . .
But none so fair that they can’t compare to the Airborne Infantry, uh-huh!
For a second after the cadence ended, I imagined my daddy laughing, proud. And when I looked up, the sky had darkened, and it was just us walking in the winter desert again. No more smiles. No laughing memories.
On a happy note, a big chunk of time had passed during the cadence. No wonder they did those cadences.
“I can walk now,” Remy said.
“Actually,” Texas Harry said, turning and peering around. “We should probably stop and find a place to hunker down before it’s pitch black out.”
All of our eyes went to the small cropping of short trees fifty feet away. They could help block the wind. Not much, but it was better than nothing. Remy climbed down from Tater’s back and insisted on taking her bookbag back from me for the remaining fifty feet.
The lower the sun dropped the colder it got. My face hurt and my hands were stiff. I helped Tater and Ry pop our tent. Three tents all together. Sean’s was a one person tent, so he was bundling up in there with his thermal sleeping bag. We had him put his right up against ours. The other two were four person tents, but we were putting five people in each.
“I am going to pass the hell out,” Matt said through chattering teeth.
“Let’s ration the food first,” I said.
We opened all of the snacks they’d procured today, and we each ended up with two handfuls. We passed around the Gatorade until it was gone, and we each got half a bottle of water.
Remy and I moaned at the same time when we bit into the pizza-pretzel Combos.
The sound was like a beacon to the men, because every single one of them swung their hungry gazes to us. Even Ry was looking at me, eyebrow raised. Remy and I froze, mid-chew.
“That good, ladies?” Texas Harry asked.
I almost choked and Remy gave a small nod. Note to self: no more moaning in front of these guys. We munched silently until the snacks were gone.
“I’ll take first watch,” Sean said.
“No more than two hours, Lieutenant,” Texas Harry told him. “Then get me up.”
