Secrets of the Red Box Read Online Free PDF

“I hope we make camp pretty soon.” He paused and then added, “I heard rumors that
we’ll get mail after we take Bologna.”
“Yeah?” Glen didn’t care about the mail. He had no one to write to, except immediate family.
Letters from his father and his Aunt Irene were welcome, but it wasn’t like Charlie who had a wife
back home. Charlie lived for her letters, and in a way, so did Glen. Charlie and Amy Larkin were
young, barely twenty years old—newlyweds, in fact. They were still in that foggy haze of new love,
when neither had a fault and could do no wrong. Glen hated to admit it, but he was jealous of the
couple.
The two men had formed a fast friendship during boot camp and had bonded as closely as
brothers. In fact, Charlie reminded Glen of his younger brother, Sam who was serving in the Navy.
He’d always felt protective of Sam, especially after their mother died when they were boys.
Five years older than Charlie, Glen was a level-headed man, cool under pressure. His dark eyes
rarely missed a thing, taking in the whole of every situation with his mind one step ahead, already
calculating the next move. Whenever Charlie was ready to race ahead, Glen would clamp his hand
on Charlie’s arm until the time was right. Glen had somehow made it his personal responsibility to
see Charlie through this war, to make sure he returned home to Amy.
Whenever mail found the men as they pressed through Italy, Charlie read his letters aloud to
Glen. He talked about Amy incessantly, sharing his memories, his hopes for the future. It wasn’t
long before Glen felt he knew as much about Amy as Charlie did. He knew where she was born,
that she had three sisters, that she had a scar on her left knee from falling off her bicycle when she
was eight years old. He knew she had light brown hair and soft brown eyes, and didn’t like milk. He
knew one of her front teeth was a little crooked and that Charlie loved it that way. He knew they
loved each other more than anything in the world. Glen only wished he had someone like Amy, had
ever loved a woman the way Charlie loved Amy.
Glen reached for his canteen and drained the last few drops of water from it. It wasn’t enough,
but even the taste of the metal-tainted liquid was welcome. When he shook out the last stubborn
dribble onto his tongue, he felt a nudge as Charlie handed over his own canteen. “Here,” he said.
“Have some more. We’ll be stopping soon.”
Glen felt a surge of fondness for his friend. He took the offered canteen and swallowed a long
draw. “Thanks,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his dirty hand. “Your feet okay?”
Charlie hunched a shoulder and grimaced. “I’ll live. Times like these, Iwish I’d joined the Navy
or the Air Corp—a lot less walking, I’ll bet.”
“When I get back to Omaha, I want to sit on the front porch for about a million years—not take
one step.”
Charlie nodded in sympathy. “When I get home, I want the biggest, thickest steak Ican find,
with about an inch of fat all the way around.”
Glen shot him a grin. As he turned his gaze back to the road, he noticed a medium-sized dog
limping on his front paw. “Hey, look at that,” Glen said, pointing to the wounded creature. He had a
soft spot for animals, and the sight of the tawny-colored dog in obvious pain was too much for him
to ignore.
“He looks pretty bad,” Charlie said. “Bet he stepped on something.”
Shrugging off his pack, Glen crouched low and coaxed the dog forward with a soft, gentle voice,
patting his knee. The dog paused, his injured foot suspended above the ground. “Here, boy,” Glen
said, tapping his knee again. “Let me help.”
The dog cocked his head and raised one floppy ear.
“ Venire —come,” Glen said in his limited Italian. The dog inched forward, wary but interested in
the stranger. Glen reached into his breast pocket and took out a piece of hard candy, hoping he
might entice the dog into thinking he had a treat. “ Venire