As the small group found their checkpoint, the Russian loaded his revolver, knowing it would come in use if a patrol happened to come snooping around. He leaned against the wall next to the entrance and looked around.
"If amerikansky tired, amerikansky rest" he said in an obvious paradox of the Russian stereotype and took his cantine, raising it to his lips and taking a swig. He could've done that while walking, of course, but decided to do something since they were going to rest for a moment. In truth he couldn't wait to get back to camp and end this hellish trip of stealth and looming doom.