The Weight of Iron and Men: A Chronicle of Friction on the High Desert Border
CHAPTER 1: THE FRICTION LINE “Again,” Miller said. The word was dry, tasting of the copper dust that blew off the tarmac two miles east. The heavy leather bag swung between them, a seventy-pound pendulum of packed canvas and old sweat. Corporal Vance didn’t reset his stance. He stood too close, his chest heaving against…