When I was a platoon sergeant and we were living in open squad bays on Okinawa there was a young Marine who used to crawl into my rack while I was reading a novel during our off-time and he would fall asleep with his arm around me — much like this.
This was the same kid who used to absolutely adore climbing onto my back as I lay on my stomach reading and, as he straddled my butt {with his flawless, infantryman’s thighs}, would go to work popping pimples and blackheads on my back caused by carrying a pack in filthy tropical conditions.
He would do this for what seemed hours at a time — completely engrossed in his task and oblivious to everything going on around him.
Continue @ Bill in Exile
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