out of him like water over a dam.
The sound of gunfire echoed across the water. It was distant, the dark sky to the south lit with faint red flashes. Destroyers or PT boats, maybe, too far away to cause us any trouble.
“Sometimes it’s hard to know which loss is worse than the other,” I said. “Diana-”
“Look!” She pointed off the port bow. White foam churned and a black shape blotted out the stars in front of us. I thought it was a whale, about to crush our flimsy craft.
“Submarine!” Hamilton shouted. He slowed the boat and turned toward the sub. “Prepare to disembark.”
Figures spilled from the conning tower, and launched a rubber raft in our direction.
“We’re going home, Billy!” Diana shouted, her face wild with excitement as she hugged me. “What were you about to say?”
“Nothing,” I said. Instead of talking, I kissed her. There, in hostile waters, bobbing on the bow of a fishing boat in the Mediterranean, with one of His Majesty’s submarines waiting for us as exploding shells created fireworks on the horizon, and with a pair of Yugoslavs shouting their encouragement, we kissed-a kiss of pleasure, joy, and forgetfulness.
Some things are better left unsaid.
