Letters Across the Sea by Genevieve Graham (spicy books to read .txt) 📕

boys reloaded and fired, and Max brought down his second mark, but this time David missed, and Arnie shouted, “Jammed! I’m jammed!”

Two Japanese soldiers were left, and they were running, closing in on the boys’ position fast. Max’s mind slipped into focus, factoring in the enemy’s direction and speed, and his gun became an extension of himself. Reload, fire! When the first man fell, Max adjusted, zeroing in on the remaining soldier. Reload, fire!

Then there was nothing left but the echo of gunshots and the hanging smoke.

“We got ’em,” David whispered, patting Max on the back.

Max could only nod as adrenaline pounded through him.

David grinned, his teeth white in his filthy face. “You haven’t lost it, Max. You got four out of five. Those boys just experienced the firepower of Harbord Playground’s finest.”

“Ha,” Max said, wishing he could laugh. “Just don’t ask me to run bases. My leg’s killing me.”

David’s smile faded when they saw Arnie crouched in the brush, curled into himself.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he gasped. “We’re going to die in these mountains.”

Max knelt beside him, one arm around Arnie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe. We’re going to make it out. We’ll be back home before you know it.”

Arnie’s panting slowed as his panic began to ease, but a new sense of fear burned in Max’s chest. He knew Arnie’s terror. He’d seen it in David’s eyes as well, and he felt it twisting in his own soul. They were falling apart a little at a time.

What if this was it, he wondered, a shuddering cold jarring through him. What if none of them were getting out of here alive?

By Christmas morning, the remaining ragtag members of C Force had retreated from the mountains, worn threadbare after two weeks of fighting. Their destination was Stanley Fort, at the south end of the island, where they collapsed with exhaustion, lying flat on their backs on the cement floor of the fort.

“Think we’ll ever get home?” David croaked.

Max rolled his head to look at his brother-in-law’s profile. Like the rest of them, David was streaked with dirt; some was clumped into his beard. No one had shaved in a week. Hell, no one had taken off their boots.

He started to answer, but David was already asleep.

An hour later, Sergeant Cox emerged from a meeting with the other remaining senior officers, and Max noted the tight set of his jaw. He was not happy about what he was about to tell the men of D Company.

“At one p.m., we will retake Stanley Village,” he said, pointing to a building on his map, set behind the village graveyard.

“In broad daylight, sir?” Max asked, his voice hoarse.

Cox reluctantly met their bloodshot eyes. His tongue went to the crack in his lip, which opened up every time he spoke. Max knew that from his own.

“Here’s the choice, fellas. We attack or wait here like lame ducks.” He lifted his chin. “Except it’s no choice at all, is it? We’re Canadians. We don’t give up.”

No one answered, so Cox dropped his shoulders slightly, and Max saw what this was doing to him. Their sergeant looked almost transparent with wear.

“I’ve never lied to any of you, so I’m not gonna start now,” Cox said, his voice more subdued. “The truth is, they don’t expect many of us to survive this day.”

Arnie lay on the floor nearby, listening. At that, he rolled onto one elbow. “Sir, that’s goddamn pleasant news on Christmas morning.”

Max smiled while the entire unit applauded. Leave it to Arnie to hang on to his sense of humour to the last. But inside, dread rolled through Max at the cold, hard facts of Cox’s news.

David wasn’t laughing. “Whoever makes it out of this has to tell the wives,” he said after Cox had moved on. He was blinking hard. “I’m not sure which would be worse.”

I’ll keep him safe, Max had promised Hannah long ago in a letter. He’d never broken a promise to her before. Was there anything he could do to keep this one?

We’ll get out of this, Max tried to say, but the words stuck in his throat, burning there.

The next hour or so was spent in near silence. No one complained, and no one begged to be excused from the battle. They were all in this together, and Max felt their resolve just as he felt his own. He cleaned his weapons, stocked up on grenades, then, resigned to his fate, finally fell asleep.

When the time came, D Company quietly followed Cox, staying low and ducking into a ditch across the road from the village cemetery. But the Japanese spotted them within seconds, and the machine guns started up, drowning out the thundering of Max’s heart.

“We have to go in fast and hard, and making lots of noise. They won’t expect that,” Sergeant Cox yelled from the end of the line.

Max scanned the graveyard, noting the Japanese soldiers positioned all over it, surrounded by superior weapons and what looked like limitless ammunition. Beyond them stood the target, a series of what appeared to be empty houses. Max couldn’t conceive of any scenario in which the Canadians could reach those houses, but Cox was right. What choice did they have? Behind him, David and Arnie were checking and rechecking their clips. They’d have only five shots before they’d have to stop and reload. No one could afford a jam like Arnie had suffered the other day. That done, they looked to him, and a terrible sadness stretched between the three friends. What would be left of them when this was all over?

“Fix bayonets,” Cox called.

Then all at once they were charging, screaming like banshees, firing their precious ammunition. When they got closer, the bayonets came into play, then Max used his fists, roaring with fury with every punch. They heard a shout, then, incredibly, the Japanese started to fall back and flee toward the row of houses.

“Go after them!” Cox shouted.

And then Max was running with the rest