Street Boys Read Online Free PDF Page A

life evenly and conveniently sorted and wrapped. But all that had changed, starting in those first weeks at basic, going right up to the final bullet he had fired during last week’s taking of the Salerno beachhead.
    It often startled him to discover how calm he was in the midst of battle, how in check his emotions stayed and how he was able to rein in his fear and use its energy to his advantage, even as all around him the faces of the familiar fell dead. He thrived on the confrontation with the enemy and seemed impenetrable to their vicious and steady assault. No one in Covington would ever have envisioned him to be the soldier he had turned out to be. Back home he was the guy who was always quick with a sharp answer, ready and eager to make light of any situation. On European soil, he proved to be even quicker with a rifle, finding peace in the hard moments of a tense fight. He knew he would never find such peace back home, sitting in a quiet corner of a tax attorney’s office. He wondered if all that would change for him yet again, once he got back Stateside and lived among the surroundings he had always called his own. Part of him hoped so.
    And, strangely, part of him didn’t.
    The dog’s growl forced open his eyes.
    Connors turned his head and saw a cream-colored bullmastiff standing a few feet to his left, its thick jowls curled in anger, a wide blotch of blood staining its massive left hind leg. He stared at the dog for several seconds, trying to decide if it was looking for a fight or just on a break from one. He lowered a hand off his leg and stretched out his fingers, reaching for a pack of Necco wafers wedged in the center of his K rations. The dog caught the hand motion and took two steps forward, heavy paws digging into the soft, dark dirt. Connors pulled the wafers from his pack and tossed them toward the dog, watching as the animal’s eyes shifted away from him and toward the food. He sniffed at the wafers, small lines of foam forming at the edges of his jaw, and then raised his right front paw and kicked the package back under the shade of the tree. Connors slapped his hand against the dirt and laughed. “I can’t even get a starving dog to eat this shit,” he muttered.
    Willis turned his head and looked over his shoulder at the dog. “Cars in my town ain’t as big as that dog,” he said.
    “He’s as scared as he is big,” Connors said. “So if you’re going to move, do it slow.”
    He heard the rifle click and turned to see Taylor standing in the front seat of the jeep, his weapon pointed down at the dog. “So long as that dog stays in place, you do the same,” Connors told him.
    “We’re here to find two soldiers,” Taylor said. “I didn’t hear anything about any dog.”
    “Pull that trigger and you’re going to have to deal with me.”
    Connors stood and, with one hand held out, fingers curled inward, took several slow steps toward the mastiff. The dog lifted his head and crouched down even more, his growl holding steady. “I’m gonna check your wound,” Connors said in a soft voice. “See how bad it is and if there’s anything I can do about it.” The dog began to sniff at his knuckles. “All I ask is you don’t take a chunk of my ass.”
    The dog licked at Connors’s hand, the snout of his nose rubbing against the side of the soldier’s leg. He gently patted the dog’s massive neck, searching for a collar. “Looks like you’re out here on your own,” he said. “Like us.”
    Connors squatted down and looked at the wound. The bleeding had slowed, but the cut was still open and raw. “He looks like he might need some stitches,” Connors said to Willis. “You up for that?”
    Willis walked on hands and knees toward the mastiff, stopping at eye level across from the wound. “Don’t see how I can botch it up any worse than I do on you guys,” he said.
    The mastiff turned his massive head and stared at Connors. “You’re just going to have to trust us,” he said