Angry was the last to board. He leaned over the tailgate, and beckoned me closer.
“What I said last night? It don’t hold no more. I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
The truck lurched forward, dust rising from the road as it followed the rest of the battalion, six hundred strong. They passed by their Tank Destroyers, loaded on the flatbeds. Most looked away. One man saluted.
I stood to attention and returned the salute, keeping my hand to the brim of my cap until the last of the trucks passed.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-87bb28-ec51-ca41-85b9-eba9-f5a8-c593dc
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 23.10.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.36, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
James R. Benn
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