A bark from Patchou in the kitchen gave André an excuse to bolt away.
Although Captain Dobie’s colonel had ordered the post moved closer to the fighting, the change would not come until other units were in position.
During the next couple of days André’s mind turned more and more toward St. Sauveur. If he could only go forward with Dobie and Weller and Slim, to be near when that town was liberated. Other French children were in the battle zone. And, after all, he had been under fire himself.
St. Sauveur, Weller explained, was directly in the path of the Americans who were hammering through to the coast to keep the Germans from sending help to the fortress at Cherbourg. The 9th Division and their own 82nd Airborne were working together in this drive for the showdown.
Weller came home from an errand to the beach on Tuesday, the 13th, whistling gaily, off key.
“Good news?” André asked.
Weller replied, “Tops. We wiped the Nazis out of that gap between Utah and Omaha beachheads. Now we can roll! And boy! You ought to see our new Utah airstrip. Planes goin’ to London out of there—like ferries—with the wounded.”
Captain Dobie, talking to his colonel on the phone, hung up, looking cheerful.
“The towns along the Merderet River seem to be pretty well mopped up,” he reported. “We hold the bridges. So the way to the Douve River’s clear now.”
Later that day Weller made a fast trip to the new command post. He came back to report that a small stone farm building near a crossroads north of Pont l’Abbé had been found for Captain Dobie.