(1) sikjuwwejsHn: wij got Murijns aend Armrd comnG frum Pendleton aend LA harbr.
(2) wij wil bij ussistnG baj caepkrnG daems on
ijdHr sajd uv dHu San Joaquin Vaellij. wij wil flud dHu vaellij aez nijdd
tuw supowrt A aend b.
They were on their way to the dams in the foothills for the Merced, Stanislaus, Tuolomne, and other rivers feeding the San Joaquin. It was a difficult place in the summer, and not any better in the winter. Rain and snow alternated. A day would dawn bright and clear but then end in fire and thunder.
The red soil of the foothills clinged to the tracks and ran in crimsom streams on the armour plates. Mud was splatterred everywhere. Elliot didn't think he would ever be clean again.
Elliot knew there was a war going on, someplace, but all he could concentrate
on now was getting his feet warm and dry. He had some confusing encounters
that day. The residents were frightenned and angerred by the PRA armour,
but they didn't have a high regard ISA either. With a few words in the
right ear, well.... It was gratifying but unnerving. Elliot wasn't a revolutionary
speaker, he was just a soldier, wet and cold.