Nearing the broken gate, the Nazi driver slowed uncertainly. But instantly he swung into a teetering turn, and shot into the barnyard in the midst of an uproar of cackling hens and geese. There was a muffled crash. André and Victor slid quickly from La Fumée’s back with thumping hearts. “They are trapped,” André whispered, “and do not know how to get out. We must bring some soldiers before they come out.” Victor was loosening his shotgun with trembling hands. But his experience with farmyards now served him well. “Without a doubt, those Nazi officers have run spank into the manure pile,” he stated with satisfaction. “They will find some troublesomeness getting loose.” He took a step forward. “You must run quickly for help.” André thought, “The first of the soldiers from the landing barges must surely be coming across the causeways by now. Captain Dobie said they would.” Skittering along past the gate into the grassy edge of the road, he began to run toward l’Audouville as fast as his legs would carry him. Racing against time, André could not look back. Before he reached the turn his heart leaped. A soldier, bulky with equipment, was coming toward him. He was moving cautiously along the roadside, rifle poised. And fanning out behind him was a spaced line of Americans. André dashed toward them. Unsmiling and with leveled gun, the first soldier yelled, “Halt!” He then said rapidly in French, “Who are you? And _where’re_ you going?” André pointed back to the Jacquard farm. “Nazi officers back there. Come get them quick--please.” Beckoning, he turned to run. “Just a minute there,” the soldier shouted. “Come back here, _petit garçon_. What’s this you’re talking about?” André was terrified by the wasted minutes. He shouted, “_Come!_ A car full of Nazi officers just drove into a farmyard back there. _Hurry!_ You can take them, but _hurry_.” The scattered scouting party began to move ahead warily. “It’s a chance the kid is okay,” the sergeant called back. “We’ll have to take a look. Keep your eyes open--and keep separated.” The sergeant quickened his pace, but cautioned, “Take it easy, kid. Let us get ’em.” Before they reached the Jacquard gate, sheltered by bushes, André fell to his knees and crept toward it. He had not quite reached it when two quick shotgun blasts rang out. “That’s Victor’s gun,” he said. “The Nazis must have started to leave.” Shot rattled on metal, and the tail of the Nazi car smashed through the gates. But, halfway through, the car teetered sharply into the stone post. Rocking, it toppled over and skidded to a stop. A voice shouted toward the car, “Hold it. Get out and keep your hands up!” A Tommy gun chattered across the car’s spinning wheels. Scrambling boots pounded into action. The German officers were jerked up and out through the door. André was startled to see a colonel’s insignia on one officer’s shoulders.