“Have that stone barn boxed in by your guns,” he ordered. “Fire for five minutes exactly—and then quit. We’ll have relief troops ready to move in then.”
He handed the phone to Weller.
“I’m going down to the bridges now, Dobie,” he said.
Captain Dobie looked white. “Ouvarski trapped,” he repeated. “Can we spare enough men right now to get them out, sir?”
The aide said, “Why not?”
The colonel put a thin, dirty hand on Dobie’s arm. “You know we’ll get Ouvarski out. And my orders to you, sir, are to stay right here. You have my authority to make your man, Slim, a sergeant. Send him in command of the Ouvarski rescue bunch. Keep Weller with you. And you, Dobie, in future, try not to be so all-fired brave.”
The captain turned to catch Weller’s eye as the colonel marched across the road to his own hidden jeep.
“He sounds,” Dobie said, “a good deal like me talking to André, doesn’t he?”
But his smile was short.
“So Slim’s a sergeant at last,” he said. “Get him on the radio. Tell him to pick up fifteen or twenty men and we’ll meet him down the road.”