Explore "Code Talker" by Joseph Bruchac on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Look at that thang," Georgia Boy said, pointing at the truck that was one of the "new" vehicles being unloaded for our motor pool. Its dented fenders and worn upholstery were only some of the signs of its age. "I think my grampa done drove it in World War One. Ain't nothin' that us Marines can't patch up, is there?"
I nodded my head and rubbed my sore shoulder. I'd just gotten back from Hawaii. I hadn't been on leave, but in the hospital and I knew just what he meant. He wasn't just talking about trucks.