A little while later, André saw the roofs of his own village, and he cried, “Oh! it’s been hit!”
It was a different village than the one André had left. Many shells must have struck it. Trees were shattered and old walls tumbled. Two houses, not far from the Gagnons’, were badly damaged—one lay in smoking ruins.
People of the neighborhood shuffled to and fro with arms filled with possessions.
André called to one of them, “The Cotys and Mme. Lescot—are they all right?”
“Yes. Everyone did what your captain told us to. We ran into the fields and hid in ditches when those German shells started coming. It was not for long. We are told the Maquis found the Nazi gun and blew it up.”
At a sign from André, the jeep slowed and, a moment later, he saw that his father’s house still stood.
In the doorway, Sergeant Weller shouted at sight of the jeep.
“Kid, you had us scared. Where the—where you been?” he demanded tartly of André. But he did not wait for an answer.
He gave the jeep and its load a hasty glance, and cried, “You bringin’ in prisoners, too!” Then, noticing their rank, he added to the lieutenant, in his sharp, official bark, “Bring that German ‘brass’ right in here, sir. Our company colonel’s inside. He’ll sure want to question ’em.”
Inside the house André found a new, older American officer busy with maps beside Captain Dobie.