On the other side of the road, the Lescots’ front door opened. Victor, in nightcap and corduroy pants drawn over a blue nightshirt, darted out, picked up one of the dropped leaflets, and shot back into the house. From other houses people ran out and raced away into the fields. Bombers darted in and out of the curtain of smoke. A barn less than a mile away broke into flames. Through a lull in the battle sounds André heard the outraged moo of a cow. “Poor old beasts,” André thought, “they must be scared to death. I’ll go talk to them, and milk.” He looked again for Slim and saw that he had turned his back to the fury of the coast and was staring toward Ste. Mère. As André stepped out Slim whirled and shouted, “Tell the cap’n--two Nazi tanks comin’ this way!” But André had already heard the ominous clank of the tanks. Even through the battle sounds their threat rang out--a new danger. As Slim raced toward him, André broke into a run for the house, shouting, “TANKS, mon Capitaine. Nazi tanks coming!” Captain Dobie had risen and stumbled a step toward the window. “Blast it!” he shouted. “Help me, Cimino.” André then saw a new man in the room--a soldier with a walkie-talkie, who must have arrived by way of the farmyard. Slim plunged through the door and snatched up a bazooka from the pile of arms in the hall. Cimino, the walkie-talkie operator, slipped out of the straps holding the instrument. He flung himself toward Slim to serve as second man on the bazooka. “Help me to the window, André,” Captain Dobie ordered, picking up a Tommy gun. “Then stay out of range. “Slim,” he barked, “fire at the front drive sprocket and the gas tanks, center, low. You can’t penetrate that forward armor, remember.” [Illustration] The bazooka muzzle thrust out the window, Slim knelt in tense firing position. Cimino stood ready to reload. The captain braced himself at the second window, Tommy gun leveled. André heard the rumble of the tanks draw nearer. The explosion of fire from the windows and the fierce back-flash of the bazooka joined with the grinding screech of shattered metal, outside. Then came the hollow scraping of steel on steel. Over Slim’s head André had seen the first tank’s turret. Then the second tank tottered over the first. And like a huge apple peel, a tremendous snakelike steel tread whipped through the air. “Good,” snapped Captain Dobie. “Second one’s piled up on the first. Shoot overhead, once.” When the firing from the house stopped, there came a shout of “_Kamerad!_” The captain poked his weapon farther out the window and shouted, “Get out and put your hands up fast. You’re all covered. Okay, Slim, get your prisoners.” [Illustration] Cimino stacked the bazooka against the sill, and whipped out his .45 automatic. Slim swept up a carbine and strode outside. The crews were already out of the tanks. “All right. Hands on your heads!” Slim shouted.