Stonewatch’s Winter Rations and the Frozen Chapel Bell

The first man to say the gate would hold had never stood beneath it. At Stonewatch, winter life came down to what could be carried, and I counted each ration against the road ahead. I ate what my sentries ate; a commander who cannot do that has no business ordering anyone to stay.

The chapel bell was left behind because its rope had frozen to the tower. It was a small failure beside the men and mules we had to bring out, but it stayed with me. A bell is only useful if someone can make it ring.

Readers remember the march, the wall, the names of the dead. I remember the ordinary work before leaving: checking straps, dividing food, and deciding what would not fit on three mules. The bell did not come. Neither did the promise that Stonewatch would hold.