Starvin Larry

The bitter north wind roars through the bare limbs of the trees along the ridge line above our position causing them to sway and creak. The ridge acts as a natural wind break for the side of the mountain we occupy and tiny snowflakes fall silently around us. We lie in the prone on the cold wet leaves of the forest floor, feeling uncomfortably exposed in the sparse underbrush, each of us intently watching down the mountainside toward our back trail.

I think to myself how once I gave the listening halt and the hasty ambush signals, an “L” shape with the thumb and index finger held in the form of an “L”, and the direction of the back trail, each man had quickly spread out in a hasty ambush formation. Jim, at the head of the patrol, immediately looked for good cover, and due to the lack of concealment…