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1942.

The soldier grips the rifle.

His helmet sits low on his head and it's heavy.

The strap is cutting into his chin.

The jungle seems to breathe around him.

It's thick. It's wet. And the ground beneath him is never dry, nor are his boots. He listens.

Snap twig, a whisper of movement, the sudden stillness seems to mean that something is wrong.

This is what this war is to him right now.

At night, he stares into darkness that is complete.

It's like a wall. His finger must stay near the trigger, waiting for those shapes to form.

Minutes feel like hours.

He does not think about maps or strategy.

He thinks about staying awake, staying quiet.

Okay. staying awake, staying quiet. By October 1942, the Americans on Guadalcanal, we're no longer newcomers there.

They'd been there for months. They were worn into this island in its mud and its heat.

Hidder, it's your big McDonald's hunger calling. And it's not just any kind of hunger. It's the

kind that calls for big arch. Start with juicy beef, cheddar cheese and big arch sauce. Oh,

and don't forget those crispy onions. Hungry? You are now.

Served from 11 a.m. subject to availability.

Price and participation may vary. At the center of anything was Henderson Field, a strip of packed earth that looked like almost fragile against the jungle, but it meant everything. Plains rose from it

when they could, kicking up dust and heat.

...