Wayne never felt this cold and numb in his life, even though he lived in the mining ranges of West Virginia, where winter blizzards were usual and never mild. But this, this beat out those cold nights and blistering snow storms. He blew viciously into his bare hands to put some feeling back into them. His helmet felt like it had frozen itself onto his head-because of the sweat he produced from digging the foxhole he was now sitting in- and couldn't feel anything past his groin, except for tingling pain.
That's good, he thought, at least I can feel somethin'.
Wayne sighed and repositioned his M1 against his shoulder as he stared blankly at his comrades dug their own foxholes. He'd help; he just needed a minute to let everything sink in. Krauts broke in, drove some other bullshit regiment back, now his buddies had to go and save the day-again.
Seems to be a pattern, he thought sardonically, a small smile filtered onto his lips.