We have just made camp, we maybe made three miles in the weather today. It was snowing severely and I cannot tell what time it is. The sun doesn’t show quite as well as it did in the city. My other colleagues are writing now too, from what I can hear of their pens scraping the rough paper in the neighboring tents. That is, when I can hear above the whistle of the wind. It has remained a constant negative fourteen throughout the day, and is slowly dropping with the night hours. Even now my hands are cramping around the pen because of the cold. My breath shows in frozen puffs, despite the generator powered heater in my room. I will retire to bed once I finish eating dinner with the others. I think tonight is biscuits and canned noodle soup.
