Shower of Frogs: Chapter 3 conclusion

And, above all, of the tormenting sun.

For, in North Africa, we had lived by the sun. We were its prisoners.

For six solid weeks at Marnia from sunup to sundown, from reveille to taps, we lived in its direct presence. There was an occasional cloud, a spare tree, a jeep's shadow, but the total effect was unrelenting sun. When it dropped behind the mountain, almost as if on signal, a breeze entered the valley.

The mornings were lovely and quiet. Birds hopped and sang in the nearby fields; sheep cried in the moist morning air; stooping reapers moved along the skyline. The morning was purple and gold and lingered in its loveliness until shattered by the rapid notes of the bugler.

At the peak of noon the sun scorched the land. Tall whirling funnels of wind and dust moved erratically along soft, undampened roads. The crucifying sun circumscribed a great arch across the valley. The reapers moved almost imperceptibly abreast the fields. By mid-afternoon the land simmered. It awaited the sun's subsiding.

Come evening the mighty and commanding sun paused to reflect in its own image till finally it disappeared in its self-engendered splendor. The heat receded. The earth gave way. The patient reapers straightened their backs and moved off to thatched huts. Once a white horse did gallop off in the distance. A gentle breeze drifted through the valley. Darkness gathered round our camp. The bugler seemed to linger over his note. The soft night in a deepening stillness glittered with enormous stars. Gentle sleep came with the cooling of the earth.

Chapter 3: Mamia-Oujda [Algeria]

Whoever selected our campsite at Marnia in Algeria was well acquainted with Hell. He undoubtedly had been there and was determined to share his hateful experience with others.

What I found indigestible were the parades. We were the "proud recipient'' of virtually every dignitary in northwestern Africa. They flew in from all over the Mediterranean to have a look
at us. Most evenings we stood retreat. For a series of five or six days we practiced parading. We drove to dust-filled, well-broiled parade grounds in convoys of trucks, eating up gasoline as if it came from spigots straight out of the earth. We took out days of time, walked hours in the burning, brain-beating sun, to entertain general after general, foreign and American. We shined our boots, licked and
spit, until we were a damn fine sight. Just what this had to do with preparation and winning a war I never really understood. It was over a year later in England, after we invaded Normandy, at another series of parades, that I got the message from General Eisenhower.