Slim pondered a moment. “Listen, André. You think we could squeeze a little more gas out of that pump of your dad’s? Take us an hour or more to waylay a U. S. truck carryin’ gas.” André smiled. “We’ve been telling everyone the pump was empty, but we have a little left in case of--you know--” Carson gave a yelp. “I know--emergency, you mean. Well, boys, I’m the worst emergency you’ll ever meet.” Slim ordered one of his men to guard the plane. At a frown from the guard, Raoul, who had been standing close by, stalked off. At the house Slim went in to report to the captain and came back with word that Dobie had telephoned the general waiting at Utah Beach. The general had sent a message to Carson: “What did that idiot mean by getting stuck in a blasted cow pasture? And tell him to get out of there in a blasted hurry, or I’ll have his blasted ...” and so forth. Carson smiled wanly. “That’s my general,” he said. Slim went back to duty, and André and the pilot refilled the plane’s tank from the cans they had brought from the Gagnon pump. Carson took a dismal look at the gray-blanketed landscape. With André’s help, he rolled the machine around so that it headed away from the hedge. “Want to get in while I taxi her into position?” Carson asked. “You are permitted--?” André cried. Carson laughed. “Of course I’m not permitted--but what’s the difference? Climb in.” André clambered into the seat beside the pilot’s. Carson turned a switch, adjusted the throttle, swung the propeller, and the engine started promptly. “Now, fasten that seat belt and hold on, this field’s bumpy.” With a surge of power, the plane began to move. Skillfully the pilot ruddered a jolting course around the potholes and stumps, to the far corner of the meadow. “Need all the run I can get for the take-off,” he explained. Faced around for a diagonal course, he throttled the engine. “Gosh, I think the fog is beginning to break,” he cried. He leaned out to observe the wind direction which already was beginning to ruffle the tops of the trees. “I’d feel better if I knew this country,” he said. “You know it like your own hand, I suppose?” André said he did, and the pilot stared down at him thoughtfully. “Say,” Carson broke out again. “How about you coming along for the ride, and point out landmarks for me?” André’s eyes lit up. “But--” he began. “You seen the Invasion beaches yet? I’ll show them to you,” he offered. Before André could gather his wits, Carson exclaimed, “There’s a patch of blue sky! We better grab this chance. Hang on. Here we go!” And he pushed open the throttle. André felt the engine quicken and then the forward jolt as the brakes were released. Smoothly, the little ship lifted after the short run. Banking sharply, it swept toward the far rim of trees and, with inches to spare, skimmed over them. The mist was breaking up, revealing open vistas. As the plane rose, the houses and fields below shrank away swiftly.