The military hutch, in Vietnam, was no more than two-hundred square feet, which kept four soldiers, one in each corner, and he had one corner in it, the Corporal Chick Evens. The glance and the figure, more like a shadow, transformed him. No longer was he ruminating from one edge of his sleep to the other, no longer sulky with haunting dreams, but half alert. The figure towered above him, his gray eyes-slightly gleaming-someone was holding the hutch door open for a quick escape, and the moon and stars' light gave a gleam to the culprit's eyes. Was this to be a plunging attack or thief? He asked himself. For there were many druggies in the Company, and this was a way to get one's drugs.



from Arts-and-Entertainment Articles from EzineArticles.com http://ift.tt/1xRVG4X

via IFTTT