Larger context for LACK in Corpus USbrown_UKbncw/US_brown.txt
Too bad the marine had no water.
From its holder he took his own canteen.
The cap was stuck and made a thin rusty squeaking as he applied pressure.
The marine's eyes opened, squeezed shut, then opened squinted in the glare.
Matsuo put the bottle to his own lips.
The marine reached up a hand.
Matsuo shook his head.
"None for you".
The marine blinked, soon dropping his hand.
Not only had he no canteen, but he lacked even the belt to hang one on.
"You came well equipped to die".
Some odor made him lean over the man.
He sniffed and recognized it.
So that had been his difficulty.
Drunk on sake, he must have wandered off from his bivouac.
The marine tried to roll on his right side, and moaned.
When he rolled on the left side, propping on his left elbow, Matsuo seized his hair and pulled him back over.
"Be a good turtle".
Awkwardly with one hand Matsuo got the cap back on the water bottle.
The smell of sake had freshened yesterday's events in his thoughts.
In the caves, with other supplies, they had kept cases of sake.
The marine shut his eyes.
"Are you a thrower of flame, marine"?
Matsuo took the small knife from its scabbard and laid it on the ground, out of the marine's reach and away from their shadows.
He waited in his squat, gripping the hair.
Every so often he turned the knife.
Its blade was dazzling in the intense sunlight.