I saw Mr Savo come up to my bed. He was angry, and his long, thin face with the black eyepatch made him look like a pirate. '

'Go back to your bed, Mr Savo,'" he mimicked. '

'Go back to your bed this instant." You'd think I was dying. This is no time to be in bed.'

'Is it the invasion of Europe, Mr Savo?' I asked him eagerly. I was feeling excited and a little tense, and I wished the people who were cheering would be quiet.

He looked down at me. 'It's D-day, Bobby boy. Were clopping them good. And Tony Savo has to go back, to his bed.' Then he spotted the portable radio my father had brought me the night before. 'Hey, Bobby boy, is that your radio?'

'That's right,' I said excitedly. 'I forgot all about it.'

'Lucky, lucky us.' He was smiling broadly and no longer looked like a pirate. 'We'll put it on the table between our beds and give it a listen, eh?'

'I think Billy will want to hear it too, Mr Savo.' I looked over at Billy.

Billy turned and stared in the direction of my voice. 'Do you have a radio here, Bobby?' He seemed very excited.

'It's right here, Billy. Right between our beds.'

'My uncle is a pilot. He flies big planes that drop bombs. Can you turn it on?'

'Sure, kid.' Mr Savo turned on the radio, found the station with the same announcer who was coming over the other radio, then got into his bed and lay back on his pillow. The three of us lay in our beds and listened to the news of the invasion.

Mrs Carpenter came up the aisle. She was still a little angry over all the noise in the ward, but I could see she was also excited. She asked me how I was feeling.

'I'm feeling fine, ma'am.'

'That's very good. Is that your radio?'

'Yes, ma'am. My father brought it to me.'

'How nice. You may sit up a little if you wish.'

'Thank you.' I was happy to hear that. 'May I pray with my tefillin?'

'Your phylacteries?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'I don't see why not. You'll be careful of the bump on your head, now.'.

'Yes, ma'am. Thank you.'

She looked sternly at Mr Savo. 'I see you're behaving yourself, Mr Savo.'

Mr Savo looked at her out of his left eye and grunted. 'You'd think I was dying.'

'You are to remain in bed, Mr Savo.'

Mr Savo grunted again.

She went back up the aisle.

'Tough as a ring post,' Mr Savo said, grinning. 'Turn it up a bit, Bobby boy. Can't hear it too good.'

I leaned over and turned up the volume of the radio. It felt good to be able to move again.

I got the tefillin and prayer book out of the drawer of the night table and began to put on the tefillin. The head strap rubbed against the bump, and I winced. It was still sore. I finished adjusting the hand strap and opened the prayer book. I saw Mr Savo looklng at me. Then I remembered that I wasn't allowed to read, so I closed the prayer book. I prayed whatever I remembered by heart, trying not to listen to the announcer. I prayed for the safety of all the soldiers fighting on the beaches. When I finished praying, I took off the tefillin and put them and the prayer book back in the drawer.

'You're a real religious kid, there, Bobby boy,' Mr Savo said to me.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I looked at him and nodded and didn't say anything.

'You going·to be a priest or something?'

'I might,' I said. 'My father wants me to be a mathematician, though.'

'Yon good at math?'

'Yes. I get all A's in math.'

'But you want to be a priest, eh? A – rabbi; you call it.'

'Sometimes I think I want to be a rabbi. I'm not sure.'

'It's a good thing to be, Bobby boy. Cockeyed world needs people like that. I could've been a priest. Had a chance once. Made a wrong choice. Wound up clopping people instead. Lousy choice. Hey, listen to that! '

The correspondent was saying excitedly that some German torpedo boats had attacked a Norwegian destroyer and that it looked like it was sinking. There were sailors jumping overboard and lifeboats being lowered.

'They got clopped,' Mr Savo said, looking grim. 'Poor bas – poor guys.'

The correspondent sounded very excited as he described the Norwegian destroyer sinking.

The rest of that morning I did nothing but listen to the radio and talk about the war with Mr Savo and Billy. I explained to Billy as best I could some of the things that were going on, and he kept telling me his uncle was the pilot of a big plane that dropped bombs. He asked me if I thought he was dropping them now to help with the invasion. I told him I was sure he was.

Shortly after lunch, a boy came in from the other ward bouncing a ball. I saw he was about six years old, had a thin pale face and dark uncombed hair which he kept brushing away from his eyes with his left hand while he walked along bouncing the ball with his right. He wore light brown pyjamas and a dark brown robe.

'Poor kid,' said Mr Savo. 'Been in the ward across the hall most of his life. Stomach's got no juices or something: He watched him come up the aisle. 'Crazy world. Cockeyed: The boy stood at the foot of Mr Savo's bed, looking very small and pale. 'Hey, Mr Tony. You want to catch with Mickey?'

Mr Savo told him this was no day to toss a ball around, there was an invasion going on. Mickey didn't know what an invasion was, and began to cry. 'You promised, Mr Tony. You said you would catch with little Mickey: Mr Savo looked uncomfortable. 'Okay, kid. Don't start bawling again. Just two catches. Okay?'

'Sure, Mr Tony,' Mickey said, his face glowing. He threw the ball to Mr Savo, who had to stretch his right hand high over his head to catch it. He tossed it back lightly to the boy, who dropped it and went scrambling for it under the bed. '

I saw Mrs Carpenter come rushing up the aisle, looking furious. 'Mr Savo, you are simply impossible!' she almost shouted.

Mr Savo sat in his bed, breathing very hard and not saying anything.

'You are going to make yourself seriously ill unless you stop this nonsense and rest!'.

'Yes, ma'am,' Mr Savo said. His face was pale. He lay back on his pillow and dosed his left eye.

Mrs Carpenter turned to the boy, who had found his ball and was looking expectantly at Mr Savo.

'Mickey, there will be no more catching with Mr Savo.'

'Aw, Mrs Carpenter -!

'Mickey!', 'Yes'm,' Mickey said, suddenly docile. 'Thanks for the catch, Mr Tony.'

Mr Savo lay on his pillow and didn't say anything. Micky went back up the aisle, bouncing his ball.

Mrs Carpenter looked down at Mr Savo. 'Are you feeling all right?' she asked, sounding concerned.

'I'm a little pooped,' Mr Savo said, not opening his eye.

'You should know better than to do something like that!

'Sorry, ma'am.'

Mrs Carpenter went away.

'Tough as a ring post,' Mr Savo said. 'But a big heart.' He lay still with his eye closed, and after awhile I saw he was asleep, The announcer was talking about the supply problems Invo1ved in a large-scale invasion, when I saw Mr Galanter coming up the aisle. I turned the radio down a little. Mr Galanter came up to my bed. He was carrying a copy of the New York Times under his arn, and his face was flushed and excited.

'Came up to say hello, soldier. I'm between schools, so I've only got a few minutes. Couldn't've seen you otherwise today. How are we doing?'.

'I'm a lot better, Mr Galanter.' I was happy and proud that he had come to see me. 'My head doesn't hurt at all, and the wrist is a lot less sore.'

'That's good news, trooper. Great news. This is some day, isn't it? One of the greatest days in history. Fantastic undertaking.'

'Yes, sir. I've been listening to it on the radio.'

'We can't begin to imagine what's going on, trooper. That's the incredible part. Probably have to land more than a hundred fifty thousand troops today and tomorrow, and thousands and thousands of tanks, artillery pieces, jeeps, bulldozers, everything and all on those beaches. It staggers the mind!'