Early in the morning when the sun was just reaching the tips of the mountains, Menegal woke. In the night he was restless and could not sleep, having many dreams of continual feelings of no escape. Throwing off the bedcover, he prepared for the next march.
He found Golwitch at his post and took his place beside him. When King Leonidas arrived the whole army clashed, spear upon shield, for they were glad to see their leader without fear, tall, strait, proud and young. When Menegal and Golwitch started to march, they spoke together about the dream and found no wisdom or result in their speech.
When the sun began to set on the 20th day of their march from Sparta, the Thermopylae mountain pass was now before them. The mountains rose like ominous shadows in the failing light and seemed to threaten those who looked upon. Clouds came from the west, swollen with rain. The hot air of Greece’s summer covered the army like a dome of suffocation. The sky was black and the thunder throbbed in the men’s ears.
Tents were quickly set up before the storm would start to pour down its fury. When the tents were raised and the men were all inside, the storm let down all the rain, lighting, thunder, hail, and wind that it held. The men ate a cold meal of bread, olive oil, and water, while trying to cheer up by singing songs of war and victory.
The army consisted mostly of young men. Their faces were frightened, tired, and lonely. In the dark, they could not see one another, so they held hands for comfort and assurance. After the storm passed, each one made his way back to his tent to rest for the upcoming climb. Menegal was the last to leave, and when he stood by the entrance to the tent, a tear rolled down his sad face of lonesome grief for his mother and sister far away in the south of Greece.