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unthinkable,” he answered, his eyes fixed on the crater.
    Collecting the tags wasn’t the worst job; Buckley reserved that one for himself. He had us line the bottom of the crater with our fallen.
    As the last guy climbed out, Buckley was waiting, “Men!” he said. We were all lined up on the edge of the crater. “This is unlike any war our country has ever faced. These valiant men laying before us deserve better than this. There will be no long ride home in a pine box for them. They will rest here! Our enemy has never attacked us in winter! They usually can’t tolerate the cold. But today,” he bowed his head, “they came for us! We’ve already lost San Diego and Parris Island, homes to many of us, homes that have bred many a fine Marine! We moved to the safety of the north to breed more, breed the finest, and now, in this godforsaken hole, lay those fine men! Do not,” he paused, pulling a lighter out of his shirt pocket, lighting the torch in his hand, “do not let their deaths be for nothing!”
    It was eerie watching him throw the torch into the pit. Some of the men tried to look away, but he ordered them to watch. He said it was respecting our fallen. Some huffed in response. Maybe they thought it was disrespectful. I didn’t when I watched him climb over the side, shovel in hand, as he started covering the bodies. Keller was next to join him; then I followed suit. Not a word was spoken after that, just the sound of shovels digging and slinging dirt as the others climbed back in to join, covering the smoldering bodies of our brethren.
    We rested until dusk. Buckley thought it would be safer to travel at night back to the base. He didn’t permit us to walk on the road, so we stayed in the woods, keeping the road in sight and taking numerous breaks to let the injured rest. Buckley would scout ahead for the enemy, then return to give us the all clear.
    As the morning light from the sun shined over the horizon, its rays showed us more smoke billowing in the distance. We were within a mile of Fort Rice. Crossing the last hill, she came into view. My heart sank in my chest. I saw nothing but flames.
    “Get down,” Buckley said, waving his arm back to us.
    We watched as he belly-crawled to the edge of the ridge, pulling his binoculars from his pack to study the damage and look for signs of hostiles. He pointed back at me, then to the ground beside him. I released my grip on Houserman and crawled over to Buckley. I could feel the snow piling in front of me, falling into my shirt and melting on my skin.
    “Tell me what you see,” he said, handing me the binoculars.
    I studied the base, I saw nothing but rubble, bodies, and rust-colored snow. Very few buildings were left standing. The front gate was in shambles.
    “What do you see?”
    I could barely answer him. “Death,” I breathed.
    Keller flopped down next to me, snow flying up into my face. He yanked the binoculars from my hands.
    “Mother of god,” he said. “Looks like a cluster-fuck down there.”
    “Think you can back me up?” Buckley asked him.
    “I’m pretty banged up, but I can go.”
    “No, you stay here. I’ll take the pup with me. Watch for my signal to bring the rest down.”
    “I can go, damn it. He has no business down there. He’ll get you killed. No offense kid,” Keller said elbowing me on the shoulder.
    Timidly, and before I even knew what I was saying, I blurted out, “I can do it.”
    “You sure, kid?” Keller asked.
    I could feel his eyes on me. I knew he doubted me.
    “Yeah…I can do it.”
    “Roger that. Don’t get your ass shot off,” Keller’s big paw smacked me on the back of my helmet as he handed me his rifle. “Keep your finger off the trigger unless you have no choice. Keep the barrel pointed down so you don’t shoot Buckley’s head off.”
    “Yes, sir,” I muttered.
    “Grow a set, would ya? This is the real deal here!” Keller said, grabbing a fistful of my coat and pulling me near him so that our