The infantry patrol was on maneuvers in the desert. The air was still and
hot, the terrain arid and parched, with not a drop of water in sight. Time was
called for a break. One recruit sat idly on a stone, his head in his hands.
' "What's the matter with him?" asked the sergeant. "Home-sickness,"
answered a private.
"We've all got that."
"Yes, but his is worse than for most of us - his father owns a tavern."