Belly Robbers

The soldier squinted in the cold mist. His hands were cold and clumsy inside his gloves. They made his finger awkward in the trigger guard. "Careful, Joshua," he said to himself, "or you'll fire just from being clumsy. My feet are cold, my knee in the snow is cold. The rifle is cold against my cheek. Aba, how did I get into this fix? What is Bastogne to me or me to Bastogne?"