between one and three
It's 4:55 AM again and he jumped from sleep the same way he did every night. Less than a foot on either side of him, slept Jacobs and Vasquez, breathing deeply in time. Somewhere in the tent a few guys snored. There was nothing to be alarmed about, no rifles being fired, no mortar incoming. But nonetheless he was drenched in sweat, on the verge of tears. He set his head back to his pillow, now cold and damp. At least it wasn't too long until sun rise. At least he wasn't totally alone. At least there were the 31 other men that he could laugh with. And there was always himself, somewhere behind a wall that he built to protect him from the violence. He was there somewhere, and one day he'd tear that fucker down. But not today.