I was walking fourth in line that day and one place ahead of West, who was smack in the middle. “You’re in my world today, Sir—you know the drill.” He was the guy everybody wanted in charge of the patrol, so I did as he said.

We set off single file, like a group of schoolchildren walking across the playground, one right after another. It had rained the night before so the ground was thick with mud. It felt like I was walking through peanut butter, every step sucking at the bottoms of my boots. The point man had the metal detector stuck out in front of him, waving it back and forth like a flashlight in the dark. We only walked where the metal detector allowed us, each man planting his foot into the footprint of the man in front of him and that was how it worked: one footprint at a time, hoping the ground wouldn’t give out from underneath.