Feedback is more than appreciated. I'm posting this as I write it so if anybody has suggestions for what direction they'd like to see it go, speak up!

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Pvt. Reynolds sat along the fence with the rest of the Browncoat prisoners, eyes closed, crucifix in hand. He felt like he should be praying, but he didn’t know what for. Courage? Strength? An end to the hours of forced marching they’d endured so far? He’d been done with basic training for a bare five weeks, seen action one time, and now it appeared that he’d spend the remainder of the war in an internment camp. He could feel his ankle swelling against the unforgiving leather of his boot. He’d tried to run when his ammo ran out, but one of the Purple-bellies had caught him on the temple with his rifle butt. The cracking of the bones in his ankle as his leg buckled beneath the weight of his body was the last sound he heard as the blackness took him.

He’d awoken to the sickening pounding of his head and the unrelenting throb of his foot and leg to find himself in the belly of a transport with thirty or so other Browncoats, all nursing minor injuries. Time lost all meaning—he lost count of the pulse beats in his skull. After an hour—a day—a month—they’d landed and marched from the landing field to the camp. When he first tried to stand, the fiery jolt of pain from his ankle caused him to nearly fall, then expel the contents of his stomach beside the road. He wanted more than anything to sit down and refuse to move. He couldn’t move, couldn’t walk any more, but the sight of the purple bellies shooting the prisoners who couldn’t or wouldn’t keep up with the rest of the pack and leaving their bodies beside the road caused him to force himself to take the next step. And the next. And the next. He wasn’t going to rot a captive in this godforsaken place.

Now here he sat, back against the fence of the internment camp. Night