I explained gently, and when things were calm was about to slip away.
The officer touched me on the shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Madame, but I'm afraid we'll have to draft you, too. Our time is limited and if a scene like this happen at every shop we'll be punished for tardiness! Here's my order to draft an interpreter," and he put his hand into his pocket.
I was somewhat abashed.
"Might I ask when you will release me?"
"Just as soon as we've the supply we need."
"Will you give me ten minutes to arrange my affairs here?"
"Certainly. But remember you're on parole!"
Outside I explained the situation to George and Leon, and scribbling a note to friends in Barbizon, told the boys to drive over and reassure the others—make them comfortable at the Clef d'Or, and tell them to expect me that evening.
"Whatever happens, wait there until I come. There's no danger of the
Germans reaching Barbizon, I fancy!"
And that is how from nine in the morning until late in the afternoon I sat perched on the front of a British Army Supply truck, much to the amusement of the other Tommy Atkins we encountered in Melun and the neighboring villages.