The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

wind blew the wisps of hair around my face and made tears come to my eyes,
and I could feel its coldness even through my warm coat and hat and mittens.
No boats anywhere. No signs of spies. New towers built near the beach,
and more barbed wire, and what looked like soldiers marching along the
ocean’s edge. Our soldiers—if it were the Germans invading, the church bells
would have rung.
I rode slowly down the hill, through the village. The butcher standing in
his shop door nodded his head to me. One of the women I passed smiled.
Another waved. They saw me ride by every day. If they thought I should be
kept locked up, at least they didn’t say so. They didn’t look disgusted by me.
At home I untacked Butter and rubbed him dry. I fed him and combed out
his tangled mane. I cleaned the saddle and bridle and put them neatly away. I
took my time.
Then I went into the house, where Susan was, and asked, “What does the
word operation mean?”