Sandy grinned. “The only difference was we were only a ten-minute walk away from home and there was a hot-dog stand across the road from the bivouac area.” He took a half-frozen sandwich out of the knapsack and passed it to Jerry. “Be careful you don’t break your teeth when you bite into it.”
“Thanks, pal.” Jerry filled two aluminum canteen cups from the coffee thermos and sipped from one. “It’s lukewarm, anyway,” he commented.
“I’ve got an idea,” Sandy said. “We can heat the cups on the stove and sit the sandwiches on top of the cup. That way the steam will thaw out the bread.”
“Brilliant. If it wasn’t so cold, I’d take my hat off to you.”
Ten minutes later, they were munching hungrily on a relatively decent meal. Jerry inhaled the steam that was rising from his canteen cup and sighed contentedly. “I know it must be my imagination, but right now I’d say this is the best-tasting chow I ever ate.”
Sandy laughed and nodded. “We used to say the same thing about the mickeys we roasted in the corner lot when we were kids. All black with ashes and dirt, but boy, they sure did taste good.” He lowered the wick a little on the stove. “It’s probably the hot coffee, but I’m beginning to get warm in here.”
“What’s wrong with being warm?” Jerry protested. “Turn it up as high as it will go.”
Sandy frowned. “When you live in frigid temperatures it’s safer to feel a little cold than it is to be overheated, because when you cool off, the perspiration will turn to ice on your skin.”
“Perspiration!” Jerry gawked incredulously. “Are you kidding?”
“Well, we’re not going to take any chances. As soon as we’re finished eating, I’m going to turn off the stove altogether.”