André listened to his report. More troops were needed at once toward the causeways. Glider troops had landed, but the Germans were putting up a fierce fight. The Americans wanted all the reinforcements they could get rushed up fast. Captain Dobie turned to Weller. “Okay, Sergeant, take _all_ these men. It’s our job to wipe out those bridgeheads!” When Weller hesitated, he snapped, “What’re you waiting for?” The sergeant blinked. “And leave you here alone, sir?” “We’ve _got_ to get those bridgeheads. Move!” Captain Dobie pounded the table. “Orders!” Sergeant Weller turned on his heel, shouted commands to round up all the men, and left. But just outside the door he jerked Slim aside. “You stay,” he ordered. “I’m not gonna leave the cap’n here alone with a broken leg. What would he do if some Nazis came along?” “You’ll get me courtmartialed yet, Sarge,” Slim objected. “If you don’t beat me to it. Stay out of sight.” The sergeant barked a command, and guns and men moved away through the mud. It was nearly full daylight now. When André turned back into the house he saw by the clock that it was quarter to six. What would his family say if they knew he had not been to bed at all? He wondered sleepily whether to lie down quietly in a corner. The captain was looking at his watch. André had taken a step toward him when the house was shaken under a dreadful blast of sound. The sound rose, and he realized it came from the sea. Under the thud of heavy shelling and bombing, objects on the walls and tables danced. The captain looked up from his watch and smiled. “They’re right on time,” he said. Puzzled, André asked, “Who is, monsieur?” “This is the _real_ Invasion, son, coming in now. This is what General Eisenhower has been planning for two years. Hundreds of thousands of men, tens of thousands of tanks, bulldozers, and trucks are moving in--_now_, in over four thousand ships. The Navy’s shelling the coast. We just came in ahead by parachute to get ready for them.” André found himself too excited to say anything. The captain spoke again, above the din. “You see why we have to clear the enemy out of those bridgeheads? To let the men landing on the beaches come through. As soon as the Navy finishes this shelling, British, Canadian, and American troops will be landing on sixty miles of beach from here to the River Orne!” CHAPTER SIX _Victor’s Mission_ Remembering the rolling crashes of the worst thunderstorm he had ever heard, André thought it had been nothing compared to this noise. He braced himself by the door frame and looked toward the sea. A pall of dense, black smoke was drifting inland, blotting out the newly risen sun. Fires flared over the tree tops. He saw Slim grinning back at him from behind a thick lilac bush.