He kept a hand on Patchou, who was torn between the joy of reunion with an old friend, and terror.
Dobie smoothed his fur absently while he directed his binoculars toward the heavy firing about the barn. He could not see much that was happening, because of the cottage wall, and stared around the fields. “If André’ll only keep under cover till this shooting stops,” Dobie thought.
He stiffened at the smell of timbers burning, and looked back to the barn quickly.
Slim appeared around the corner of the cottage and ran up toward Dobie.
“Cap’n,” he panted. “More—” He stopped and stared wildly. “What’s that dawg! That ain’t—It is Patchou! Well, for cryin’ out—”
“More what?” the captain snapped.
“More trouble, Cap’n. The barn’s afire in one corner. An’ we ain’t got half the Germans yet. They’re hid everywhere. If Ouvarski and the men have to make a break for it, there’s still enough Nazis to pick ’em all off.”
Dobie reached for the radio switch. Turning to Slim, he barked instructions.
“I’ll order smoke shells to cover their escape. Go out there and warn the men to pull back a little. Where’s Weller?”
Slim poised on one foot to answer.