I didn't see too much that was beautiful in the Army. Mostly, it was being away from home, working till I collapsed, and doing things I still think about at night when the house is too quiet. On occasion though, I was in just the right place at the right time.
There was a night I pulled advance scout duty on an air-dropped resupply. We were in a forest clearing far from any roads. It was my job to watch the lead edge of the field while we waited for a pallet of rations that, when it came, burned into the ground after the parachute failed. So here I was at the centre of the lead edge of an open grassland. I felt exposed and not ready to be found. Crawling on my hands and knees, I worked my way beneath a scrub bush no more than two feet high. The air was warm but still that night and stars shown through the miniature gnarled branches that had themselves seen better days.
I laid there waiting for the plane. I was hungry and willing it to come. As the night quietened, I noticed strange patterns in the sand. Tiny prints had been laid down upon the earth between my hands. The prints curved and curled around, no bigger than a match heard. They disappeared down a tiny burrow less than the cylinder of a cigarette. As I watched, a beetle slowly climbed out and onto the silvery ground. It scuttered up the branches of the shrub, soon joined by it's mate, slowly creeping in line from the tiny underground lair. They buzzed as they climbed and soon were up to the plant's highest surmountings. In a flash they leapt into the night air to ballet around the shrub in softly buzzing, circular slow motion. The dark stars overhead flowed slowly on with the beetle's circle dance in queue beneath, for all the night to enjoy.
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