Secrets of the Red Box Read Online Free PDF Page B

.”
The dog scented the air, and Glen suspected the dog was too smart to fall for his ploy. He
continued to hold out the candy, patting his knee. Gradually, the dog moved toward him, extending
his neck, sniffing as he did. As the dog took a cursory lick of the candy, Glen wrapped his free arm
around the dog’s middle. “Good boy,” he breathed, hoisting the animal into his arms. “You like
butterscotch, huh?”
Charlie stood at the side of the road with registered surprise. “Good job.”
Glen gingerly lifted the dog’s injured paw to examine it. There was some dried blood matted in
the fur, and the large pad of his foot had two deep lacerations. “ Buona, ” he murmured consolingly.
“Good dog.”
“Is he hurt bad?” Charlie asked.
Glen shook his head. “Nah, I think we can help him.”
“Maybe he lives around here?”
“Who knows? With all the bombing and shelling, he could have run off from anywhere.”
Charlie raised his hand toward the dog for him to sniff. “You’re okay now, boy. You just met
the best friend you’ll ever have,” he said, looking at Glen with admiration.
Glen offered the dog to Charlie. “Hold him while I get my stuff.”
Glen replaced his pack, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and had the dog back in his arms in a
matter of seconds. The dog wagged his tail and licked Glen’s chin. He laughed and turned his face
from the dog’s slobbery tongue. “You’re welcome, and I like you too.”
As he rejoined the progression of men, Glen felt his mood lighten. Rescuing the stray had given
him a sense of renewed energy. It was good to know he could aid the little dog, especially since he
could do so little for so many of his wounded and dead comrades. It might have been a small thing,
but to Glen, it felt like he’d accomplished something wonderful.
After they made camp, Glen untied the dog from the tether he’d attached to a tree and picked
him up. “Now let’s see what we can do, huh?” he said into the dog’s floppy ear. “We’ll have you
good as new.”
The dog licked his cheek and Glen chuckled. “Okay, okay.”
Glen sat on the ground beside some things he’d readied, including his helmet full of water and
some bandaging and ointment he’d begged from the medic. He’d told the medic it was for his sore
feet. The sun was fading quickly over the shadowed mountains, so he had to work fast. As a
diversion, he’d opened his ration of beans and offered it to the dog, holding the can in one hand
while he lowered the dog’s injured foot into the helmet of water. The animal lapped at the beans,
barely taking time to chew, and didn’t seem to care about his foot.
Glen stroked his wetted fingers down the dog’s leg to loosen the dried dirt and blood. He spoke
softly to the animal as he did, shaking the beans forward in the can. “Hungry, aren’t you, boy? Sure.
I’ll bet you’re pretty far from home too. So am I.”
When the dog had emptied the can, Glen lifted the paw to see how it looked. The lacerations
were deep and raw and probably would have benefited from a couple of stitches. He was fairly
certain he couldn’t beg the medic for sutures, so the salve and bandages would have to do.
Carefully, Glen tipped the dog onto its back and cradled him in his lap. He was surprised at how
complacent the animal seemed, relaxing against Glen’s legs and blinking sleepily at him. “That’s it,”
he murmured. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Glen set to work. He dried the foot, then gingerly applied the ointment. It was amazing how the
animal remained prone, didn’t try to struggle or growl. As Glen began to wrap the foot securely with
the gauze bandaging, he couldn’t help but think that maybe the dog was as tired of the war as he
was. Maybe, for a moment at least, the two of them felt safe together. Glen realized how good it felt
to hold something alive in his arms. He couldn’t count the number of soldiers he’d cradled in their
final moments of life, how many men