Chapter FourTHE NEXT MORNING thin, golden sun shafts fanned through the clouds and flickered like gossamer. Warmer out, the men chopped branches or stuck entrenching tools into the sand and hung their uniforms to dry. A few slipped out of their trousers, and a few wore nothing but flak jackets and helmets, skivvies and boots. Most men wore skivvies in the winter monsoons but not in the summer because of the heat. A Marine could sweat so much he couldn’t keep them dry, and they wedged inside his buttocks and rubbed and chafed him raw.
Still, the sun was out, but they knew it wouldn’t last. After landing, Delta Company dug in and filled in the sparse perimeter manned by two squads from Charlie Company. At least they hadn’t been forced to muck through the dark to the Citadel. There had been
