“Nope.” Weller grinned. “The colonel says the 82nd won’t be goin’ on to Cherbourg with the 9th Division. We’re ordered to take the marshy country south of St. Sauveur. _An’ after that we’ll get relieved._” “The 82nd will be out of the war?” Dobie asked. “Every bloomin’ man of us,” Weller replied. “An’ that means you, too, Cap’n.” Slim winked at André. “I guess that means you, too, kid,” he said. Captain Dobie rubbed his hand across his eyes, and said, “After over two weeks of steady fighting I guess the 82nd deserves a rest. Well, give me that phone, Weller.” When he had finished his call he said to Pierre, “I have sent for a jeep to take you home, M. Gagnon. Do you think you can hang onto André till the jeep gets here?” Pierre threw back his head in his great, bellowing laugh. “I think so, _mon Capitaine_,” he roared. “Never mind, kid,” Weller said. “I promise you we’ll be back. We’ll see you in a week’r two. You just save us some of that good fresh milk.” Pierre clapped his hand to his head and glared at André. “_Mon Dieu!_” he shouted. “The cows!” CHAPTER TWENTY _Bastille Day--1944_ That night, lights glowed in the Gagnon house. In spite of the blustery cold wind and drifts of rain, the door stood open most of the evening. Friends came, laughing, crying, chattering greetings and news. Children came to ask André questions and stand with open mouths at what he had to say. Marie brought cups of hot chocolate and black bread. Mme. Lescot supplied some small cakes. Leon Duplis rode over to tell Marie that General de Gaulle, who commanded the Maquis from London, was now touring the liberated towns of Normandy. “The French Army will soon join the fight to free our country,” Leon whispered to Marie. “They will enter France from the Mediterranean. But do not tell anyone yet I said so.” And with that he was on his motor bike and gone. On the road outside, traffic was coming up from the beach, but in smaller convoys. “The sea is getting very rough,” someone reported. By midnight all the guests had gone and the whole family were in bed--really home at last. André went out to the road many times the next few days to look for friends on the army trucks and jeeps rolling by. On the third day, a messenger from St. Sauveur, on his way to the supply dumps on the beach, stopped to talk. “We got the peninsula cut off now,” he reported. “The 9th Division an’ the 79th an’ the 4th Division are on their way to Cherbourg. Goin’ fast, too.” Captain Dobie’s men were still fighting for the marshes and some hills west and south of St. Sauveur, he said. The storm over the Channel had built up to an alarming degree. Rain and wind whipped the trees along the coast and drove the villagers indoors. Traffic past the house slowed almost to a stop.