“He died before the end of that deployment.

I carried his letter home.”

I waited.

Frank had never told me this story before, not even when I was old enough to ask questions about his uniform photographs.

“Years later,” he continued, “I recognized Harold’s name in a newspaper article about a shipping company expanding into the Southwest.

I wrote him.

He met me once.

He admitted there had been irregularities, said I misunderstood his part, and offered money to keep quiet.”