something, i dunno

the fog creeped back into the shallow foothills every morning, back into the dark jungle. slowly the the hills were revealed, sloping down like fingers stuck into the ground. from the steps of my quanset hut i could see a patch of grass and dirt with a few chickens poking the ground, the women walking to and fro, the stalls of the market with dried fish and bananas and beyond the deep green of the jungle. occasionally we heard the the blades of an incoming helicopter whipping the air, or the popping of a gun. somehow our small battalion had been lost or forgotten. this town, was hidden and forgotten. i am the chaplain, and the soldiers my flock. i am the shepherd, and these men are my sheep.