As the streaks of dawn tentatively crawled over the horizon, the pangs of hunger returned. I reached for my drys -- gone! What had happened to them? I had eaten the fruit and was in the middle of my beans when the solitary round hit. I knew that I had taken the drys out of my parka. Suddenly it dawned on me. The incoming was -- my drys?

As I reviewed my preparations for the meal, it became apparent that my drys had been the incoming and the womp on the lieutenant's head. (you just don't put drys on the stove). I wasn't sure if any one else that day figured out what that single round of "Incoming" was. As for myself, I stayed clear of the tent and particularly the lieutenant.

A secret these many years. To the lieutenant and all those who so hastily abandoned the warming tent that night, my apologies.