Chapter FourSimon stood at the edge of camp and gripped the metal cup with both hands to let the coffee’s heat seep into his palms. Poorly brewed, the beverage scalded his throat on the way down and served to warm him, but the taste was reminiscent of scorched wood. The temperatures would soar later, but at the cusp of dawn, a chill hung over the tents.
Yesterday’s drill had killed some of the interminable wait time, and caused excitement among the men who knew battle was imminent. Muted voices blended with the clink of canteens and mess kits as they ate what passed for breakfast. Across the misty meadow, trees and shrubs were barely discernable in the fog. What lay beyond the ghostly figures? Were the Germans rising to eat as if today was another day on the threshold of a possible battle
