“Indeed, yes!” Than Shwe exclaimed.
“It will be worth seeing,” the colonel rumbled.
“I’m sure it will,” Isabelle agreed. And it was.
The first faint flush of dawn gave them a shadowy view of the grand parade’s vanguard, a General Sherman tank. Astride this tank rose a long figure. Strange as it may seem, Isabelle recognized the figure instantly. She had seen it outlined against the sunset on some football bench too often to miss.
“Pete!” she screamed above the rattle of the tank. “Hi there, Pete!” She struggled hard to keep the tears from her voice. It’s bad enough when you tell your little man goodbye at the depot, but to see him riding at the head of the procession, going to battle on a tank, that was almost too much.
The girl’s dominant desire at the moment was to give the big redhead something to remember her by. She racked her brain for a moment. Then she had it.
“A red, red rose!” she whispered, snatching at her breast.
The colonel was fond of roses. He had brought a large potted rose, in full bloom, to the Secret Forest. Intending to leave this behind, he had cut two of the roses and given them to Isabelle and Than Shwe.
Now, as Isabelle plucked hers from her jacket where it was pinned, she raced along beside Pete’s tank screaming “Pete! Pete! Here’s something to take into battle!”
“What? Oh! There you are! Great stuff!” Pete leaned far over to grasp the hand that held the rose. Then relinquishing the hand, he grasped the rose.