Matty would be sitting on those wooden bleachers in his round plastic wire-rimmed glasses, waiting for his mom, with no idea of the trap waiting for him.

“He thinks you’re going to walk in there with nothing,” Kenneth said.

“I’m not walking in there with nothing,” I said.

“We’ve still got to get this shell onto the trailer,” Kenneth said, looking back at the dune where the rusted bomb casing lay secured.

“Then we load it now,” I said.

“The wooden service chest with your Bronze Star folder is locked up in the back seat of this truck,” Kenneth said.

“Keep it locked,” I said.