We Were There at the Normandy InvasionKnight, Clayton
History
We Were There at the Normandy Invasion
Knight, Clayton
World War, 1939-1945 -- Juvenile fiction
“Should be nearly a hundred men in these meadows right here,” the
captain said. “We’ve got to get our parachuted equipment together. As
soon as you can, send someone for gear I saw drop near where I came
down. One lot’s caught in a tree--right across that open space. We need
those bazookas quick. German tanks are likely to be coming along any
minute.”
“This kid might be able to tell us somethin’ about the Nazis around
these parts,” Slim said.
“There’s a Nazi camp half a mile down the road,” André replied eagerly.
“And another big one near Ste. Mère Église, if you know where that is.”
[Illustration]
Captain Dobie nodded and turned his head to catch the sound of a motor.
“That car’s coming this way fast!”
André was startled by the smooth swiftness with which Slim and his
captain acted then. Thrusting his Tommy gun into the captain’s
outstretched hand without a word, Slim detached a grenade from the
cluster at his belt. He slipped into a tense, waiting position closer
to the road.
The captain ordered, “Down flat!” and André obeyed.
The roar of the approaching car grew loud. Slim called softly, over his
shoulder, “Nazi staff car,” and raised his arm.
The explosion and the repeated crack of the Tommy gun beside him shook
the ground under André. As another grenade followed the first and took
effect, Captain Dobie said, “That’s one car won’t stop the freeing of
France.”
Slim crossed the road and returned to report solemnly, “Okay, sir.”
The captain nodded, then glanced quickly to one side as a voice said,
“Good work, Slim.”
“Oh, it’s you, Sergeant!” the captain exclaimed in relief.
“Captain,” Weller said. “We were worried about you. What you got there?”
“A broken leg, I think, worse luck,” Captain Dobie explained angrily.
“If you see a medic, send him back here. But you men get going now. If
we don’t pick up that dropped ammunition and equipment soon, we may
be in for trouble. Meanwhile, have you seen any place I can use for a
command post around here?”
“You can use my father’s house,” André offered eagerly. “My father,
he’s a part of the Resistance, so it’s all right.”
The captain turned to Weller.
“Yes, sir. Solid stone, handy to the road, plenty of room, barns. No
bomb damage,” the sergeant reported, and added, “Nobody but this kid
home, since we cleaned out the loft.”
“Yes?” The captain looked sharply around at the boy. “How’s that?”
André explained quickly. “And my father and Marie should have come back
by now,” he finished.
The captain shook his head. “Not from St. Sauveur, they won’t. Not
tonight. Our men must have all the roads beyond Ste. Mère blocked off.”
While a couple of men watched the road, others were sent to retrieve
the dropped weapons. Sergeant Weller examined the captain’s injury. He
found that a bone was cracked above the ankle. A shot of morphine from
a first-aid kit was given Captain Dobie to ease the pain. Then splints
were found, and the leg bound with strips of torn parachute silk.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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