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But no shot rang out, and after a brief victory dance Lefty went inside the pillbox, and Woody breathed easier.
However, he was not yet fully secure. At this point a sudden sally by a couple of dozen Germans could win the bridge back. Then it would all have been in vain.
He forced himself to wait another minute to see if any enemy troops showed themselves. Still nothing moved. It was beginning to look as if there were no Germans in Eglise-des-Soeurs other than those manning the bridge: they were probably relieved every twelve hours from a barracks a few miles away.
"Smoking Joe," he said. "Get rid of the dead Germans. Throw them in the river."
Joe dragged the three bodies out of the pillbox and disposed of them, then did the same with the two sentries.
"Pete and Mack," Woody said. "Go over to the other pillbox and join Lefty. Make sure the three of you stay alert. We haven't killed all the Germans in France yet. If you see enemy troops approaching your position, don't hesitate, don't negotiate, just shoot them."
The two men left the pillbox and walked briskly across the bridge to the far end.
There were now three Americans in the far pillbox. If the Germans tried to retake the bridge they would have a hard time of it, especially in the growing light.
Woody realized that the dead Americans on the bridge would forewarn any approaching enemy forces that the pillboxes had been captured. Otherwise he might retain an element of surprise.
That meant he had to get rid of the American corpses too.
He told the others what he was going to do, then stepped outside.
The morning air tasted
fresh and clean.
He walked to the middle of the bridge. He checked each body for a pulse, but there was no doubt: they were all dead.
One by one, he picked up his comrades and dropped them over the parapet.
The last one was Ace Webber. As he hit the water, Woody said: "Rest in peace, buddies." He stood still for a minute with his head bent and his eyes closed.
When he turned around, the sun was coming up.
vii
The great fear of Allied planners was that the Germans would rapidly reinforce their troops in Normandy, and mount a powerful counterattack that would drive the invaders back into the sea, in a repeat of the Dunkirk disaster.
Lloyd Williams was one of the people trying to make sure that did not happen.
His job helping escaped prisoners get home had low priority after the invasion, and he was now working with the French Resistance.
At the end of May the BBC broadcast coded messages that triggered a campaign of sabotage in German-occupied France. During the first few days of June hundreds of telephone lines were cut, usually in hard-to-find places. Fuel depots were set on fire, roads were blocked by trees, and tires were slashed.
Lloyd was assisting the railwaymen, who were strongly Communist and called themselves Resistance-Fer. For years they had maddened the Nazis with their sly subversion. German troop trains somehow got diverted down obscure branch lines and sent many miles out of their way. Engines broke down unaccountably and carriages were derailed. It was so bad that the occupiers brought railwaymen from Germany to run the system. But the disruption got worse. In the spring of 1944 the railwaymen began to damage their own network. They blew up tracks and sabotaged the heavy lifting cranes required for moving crashed trains.
The Nazis did not take this lying down. Hundreds of railwaymen were executed, and thousands deported to camps. But the campaign escalated, and by D-day rail traffic in some parts of France had come to a halt.
Now, on D-day plus one, Lloyd lay at the summit of an embankment beside the main line to Rouen, capital city of Normandy, at a point where the track entered a tunnel. From his vantage point he could see approaching trains a mile away.
With Lloyd were two others, code-named Legionnaire and Cigare. Legionnaire was leader of the resistance in this neighborhood. Cigare was a railwayman. Lloyd had brought the dynamite. Supplying weaponry was the main role played by the British in the French Resistance.
The three men were half hidden by long grass dotted with wildflowers. It was the kind of place to bring a girl on a fine day such as this, Lloyd thought. Daisy would like it.
A train appeared in the distance. Cigare scrutinized it as it came nearer. He was about sixty, wiry and small, with the lined face of a heavy smoker. When the train was still a quarter of a mile away he shook his head in negation. This was not the one they were waiting for. The engine passed them, puffing smoke, and entered the tunnel. It was hauling four passenger coaches, all full, carrying a mixture of civilians and uniformed men. Lloyd had more important prey in his sights.
Legionnaire looked at his watch. He had dark skin and a black mustache, and Lloyd guessed he might have a North African somewhere in his ancestry. Now he was jumpy. They were exposed here, in the open air and in daylight. The longer they stayed, the higher the chance they would be spotted. "How much longer?" he said worriedly.
Cigare shrugged. "We'll see."
