The Cathole I felt the rumbles deep within my abdomen -- I have felt this feeling before, accompanied by the cold sweat and state of panic -- pressure and intense urgency filled my mind and body. “Lish! Pass me the trowel, I need to dig a cathole!” I exclaimed. (Lish was our beaver-resembling male camp guide named Elisha). As soon as the trowel entered my grasp I was already steps in the direction of the dropzone, each stride falling quicker than the last. A connoisseur of backcountry poops, I had a vision, or an obligation rather. Every cathole must be greater than the last, and the next one must be mapped out in carefully planned blueprint. If you wish to keep your dignity you best find somethin to lean on. I came across an old, sturdy and weathered oak tree; this is my Charlie and I am drop team Soaring Condor (they call me the Condor due to my vast wingspan and aerodynamics). Frantically -- yet masterfully -- I rip at the earth, focused on depth in anticipation of the violent airstrike of burning napalm …show more content…
Roots are in my way, as I should have expected beneath the ancient flora. My cathole plan was ruined, and time is running out. A creature of habit, and confident in my wilderness experience, yet I had made a crucial error. Wildly I search the nearby land for an appropriate spot. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a felled tree sprawled over soft soil and fallen leaves. How could I have missed such a beautiful location? I filled the kitten hole I had dug and moved to Target Zone B. This time, with urgency behind my fingertips, I dug deep into the soil. Carving effortlessly and artisanally, I scooped the earth from the ground and into a neat pile. As I approached the desired depth, I felt cogs turn in my abdominal clockwork. The time is now. I leaned back against the log and placed my palms on the forest floor beside me. Sparing the details, the mission was an epic success. A glorious feat and an impressive accomplishment for my “catholing”
“I shall never forget the awful climb on hands and feet out of that hole that was about five feet deep with greasy clay and blood (although I did not know then that it was blood).
Zero awoke to find himself standing, it was not something he was familiar with and he searched his memory for any recollection of it happening before. Quickly he discovered that large parts of his memory were missing, gone were the seemingly endless data bases of information. Quickly he sent out feelers trying for a connection of some sort but he drew a blank. It seemed that where ever he was now, had limited connection capacity. Instead he used his visual feed to survey his surrounding, it appeared he was in some kind of desert of discarded parts.
A trained tunnel exploitation team was essential to the expeditions of VC tunnels since untrained people may have missed hidden tunnel entrances, taken unnecessary casualties from concealed mines and booby traps . To facilitate this, teams were trained, equipped and maintained in a ready status to provide immediate assistance when tunnels were discovered.
One rather beautiful day I head down to the building fields of Uruk with my only son Urnabe. He is 14 and he is turning out to be a skilled mason or at least better than his old man. When we get there I see that Binfem was already waiting for me.
Together they worked until the two holes were one and the same. When the depression was the size of a small dishpan, Nel’s twig broke. With a gesture of disgust she threw the pieces into the hole they had made. Sula threw hers in too. Nel saw a bottle cap and tossed it in as well. Each then looked around for more debris to throw into the hole: paper, bits of glass, butts of cigarettes, until all the small defiling things they could find were collected there. Carefully they replaced the soil and covered the entire grave with uprooted grass. Neither one had spoken a word. (Morrison 58-59)
Now quietly moving through the dense undergrowth. It seems this forest floor has been traveled many times. Spotting two small hunting cabins in a clearing a few hundred yards away. He scans the area, looking for any movement. A large ...
3. Chapter 1, page 5, #3: “Moving through the soaked, coarse grass I began to examine each one closely, and finally identified the tree I was looking for by means of certain small scars rising along its trunk, and by a limb extending over the river, and another thinner limb growing near it.
I told him to get an ember nut and bring it to the elder. I continued to dig into the ground until the ground started to fall on top of me. I quickly climbed out of the hole confused by the feeling of dirt falling on me. I then dug up the entire crossroads about one hand deep.there was a large mound of dirt next to the hole. I went into the forest and collected as many burning trees as I could and a large amount of flame-tongue. I bought the supplies to the cross roads and started to bind the burning trees together with the flame-tongue and made a platform. I then placed the platform slightly under the edge of the hole in the cross roads. I stabbed a post into a hole in the platform and into the ground. it will help with the tunnel and make the platform stronger. I built a ladder and placed it in the hole in the center of the platform. I had some spare flame-tongue and decided to make a basket to help carry the dirt. I dug until I reached one of the posts and poured the dirt collected over the platform. I then remembered the large mound of dirt I left earlier and smoothed out the crossroads and tested if it could hold me. it felt sturdy as a rock. I continued to dig and made it to two more posts when I noticed a large gathering of people watching me
Soon we got into what I like to call, “war ground” because it looks like a war just happened at this very spot with trees knocked over and nothing living. Later into the trail, we found a dead tree that fell over, but was still in the air.
Some could argue that my mild-prescription glasses is all it took for me to see the forest differently. You could call it cliché, or unreal, or the kind of thing that only happens in movies, but I promise that in that time something changed in my mind as well. When I went into the forest, I was expecting to find something great. There was no heavenly vision, and no profound moment of spirituality, but I realized that I didn’t need one. What I realized, is that the forest itself is great. All that time I expected
I bolted up to it and killed it with my axe. I harvested pork, leather, fat, and bone fragments from the boar. At my base, I quickly constructed a clay furnace and filled it up with wood and lit it to a blaze. I crammed the pork in and let it cook until I noticed it was done. Enjoying this pork, I thought about upgrading my small wooden base into a stone base, with a door and roof. I finish the base off and start to wonder out towards the humongous sphere looking object out in the horizon. As I'm getting closer, I noticed a lot of other bases. Now coming up on this tall sphere object, I can tell that there's a way to get up. A thin rusty beam was stretched out across a platform. I slowly walked across it and saw a green wooden box. I inspected the inside and find a Thompson with 42 pistol bullets. So I load the Thompson and continue up. On the top, I discover 4 more green wooden boxes. I looked in all of them and found a flamethrower, cans of beans, and more pistol bullets. I was surprised of how I found such great loot in, "What even is this
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
After we dig out most of the dirt laying on the floor we get ahold of our boss and we send him pictures of our discovery. We manage to crawl out of the large hole and go to our tents to get some rest.
On the edge of a small wood, an ancient tree sat hunched over, the gnarled, old king of a once vast domain that had long ago been turned to pasture. The great, gray knees gripped the hard earth with a solidity of purpose that made it difficult to determine just where the tree began and the soil ended, so strong was the union of the ancient bark and grainy sustenance. Many years had those roots known—years when the dry sands had shriveled the outer branches under a parched sun, years when the waters had risen up, drowning those same sands in the tears of unceasing time.
After just two hours, our very large friend said he’d had enough for the day and was heading for the surface. We told him we’d be out in a few more minutes and to hang around so we could discuss what we’d found. As we began our ascent toward the entrance, we became acutely aware of the complete absence of light the entrance usually emanated. When our flashlights finally found the source of the unusual darkness we were horrified; the big guy was stuck in the cave’s opening again. This time Scott’s head and shoulders were outside, so instead of being able to pull him through, we would have to try to push him out of the opening. We pushed in every combination of ways possible, and needless to say it did not work this time. The paramount problem was that the cave floods from the interior out, so we would all drown if we couldn’t get Scott unstuck, and unstuck quickly.