"Until he was shot..."
“Until he was shot, Ted Lavender carried…” - Tim O’Brian, “The Things They Carried,” Pg. 252 Pack. Gun. Poncho. Rations. Extra clothes. Ammo. Tranquilizers. Forty-two and one-half pounds, they say - the weight we have to hump across this swamp. Feels like more than that on my shoulders sometimes. That constant fear of getting killed always adds a couple pounds. Plus some other stuff. It’s really bad now - a buncha pictures and letters feel like they weigh a pound each. One of ‘em weighs ten all by itself. Some guys shout “Pick it up, Lav!” “Come on, Lavender!” from behind me. I’m moving slow. Yup, I have somebody back home waiting for me. Had. The guys don’t know about it - I’m not an idiot like Lieutenant Cross, always off in his own head sucking on that pebble and thinking nobody notices. Nah, I keep everything close to my chest. I got a couple pictures of us smiling that I can’t bear to look at anymore. Plus the letters. The salutations ...