One of the soldiers looked up curiously. At the sight of the horn under André’s arm he cried, “Well, if it isn’t Little Boy Blue, horn and all.” The second milker called, “These cows yours? We thought nobody was home. Sure seems good to milk an ole bossy again.” He grinned. “I come from Iowa an’ I sure miss milkin’ time. Hope you don’t mind. We’re almost through here.” The men paused to admire André’s trumpet, and tootle a few wild notes, before they helped him carry the pails to the springhouse. He filled a pitcher for Captain Dobie, and took it to the “staff room,” as the old store was now called. The room was again filled with strange soldiers, some of them in bloody bandages. The colonel was anxious to get away to his division command post. “You stay right here, Dobie,” he said, “and the sergeant and Slim as well. And hustle medics and replacement infantry forward, fast.” Slim appeared and announced that he had Weller’s jeep ready to drive the colonel to his headquarters. When Captain Dobie and André were alone, the captain smiled and sighed. “A fine mother I turned out to be,” he said. “_When_ did you eat something last?” André grinned shyly. “When did _you_ eat last, sir?” Sergeant Weller’s voice roared from the hallway, “Lunch coming up!” A large loaded tray appeared through the door, followed by Weller’s bulky body. André looked at a heaped platter in the middle, and laughed. “So that is where our chickens went.” “Your father will be paid for these fowl,” Dobie said. “So make up for the eating you haven’t done today.” Weller was not as good a cook as his mother or Marie, André thought. But he was surprised that a tough sergeant could cook at all, and the meal was good. When the sun sank red behind the trees, an evening hush settled, although soldiers from nearby bivouacs moved through the village restlessly. Weller yawned. “I hope it stays quiet around here awhile,” he said. “After last night we could do with a little snooze, eh, Captain?” He had scarcely made this wish than André cried, “Listen!” A distant sound of motors from the sky was drowned by the opening bark of an American antiaircraft battery close by. Weller leaped to put out the lights. “Might have known the Luftwaffe would wake up about now,” he grumbled. Captain Dobie’s voice came out of the darkness. “I’ve been wondering why we haven’t heard from them these last two days. Our air boys must have pretty thoroughly crippled them.” Ears were strained to follow the sounds. “Must be several planes,” Dobie said. “They seem to be dropping small bombs.” Weller, at the window, called, “Looks like a Fourth of July celebration.” Suddenly he shouted, “_We got one!_” In the darkness, André listened to the wild whine of the falling Luftwaffe plane. André reached Weller’s side in time to see flames spring high above the dark treetops beyond the village. “I didn’t see any ’chute,” Weller exclaimed.