Antagonistic Socks

Some things are imperative to get both feet in the game

James' feet were blue. He could feel them, but he wished he couldn't; they felt like they were being stung all over by small vengeful bees. The stinging was bad enough, but they itched like bugs were crawling on them.

He knew he wasn't the only one. One look up and down the line showed Sergeant James men of every rank huddling their feet under whatever dry cover they could find.

"We're never gonna get outta here," he grumbled under his breath."

"Wh-what's that, S-S-Sergeant?" asked a young private, plagued with malnutrition and terror as well as frostbitten feet.

"I said' When we get outta here,' private. And when we do get outta here, I'm gonna grill up a nice fat steak and rest my weary feet on it to warm them up!"

The boy smiled and hobbled back to his position. Sergeant James' smile faded, and he looked back down at his feet.