“Just lean back and float, the water will hold you up.” The boy wanted to believe his grandfather, but his nose was still stinging from the salt water dousing of his last attempt.
His grandfather seemed to have no fear of the water. No fear of anything. “That’s France.” he said nodding to a grey blue smudge on the horizon. “I was there once on a beach like this.”
“What were you doing over there?” the boy asked. His grandfather didn’t seem to hear. “I ran up the beach and looked back,” he said, almost to himself. “Our padre was right behind me. He’d lost his head.”