THEY TORE HIS DEAD FATHER’S UNIFORM AND CALLED HIM "TRASH"—THEN THEY HEARD THE THUNDER OF 500 ENGINES! The smell of the jacket was a dying thing. For three years, the coarse green fabric of the M65 field jacket had been a sanctuary for Leo. It had smelled of Old Spice, gun oil, and the dry, metallic dust of a desert half a world away. It smelled like Dad. But today, as ten-year-old Leo Sullivan pulled it from the garment bag in the back of his mother’s closet, he realized with a pang of grief th