Jackdaws by Ken Follett Page A

for the
drift caused by wind. And the trouble with landmarks was that one river looked
very much like another by moon-light. Getting to roughly the right area was
difficult enough, but these pilots had to find an individual field.
    If there was a cloud hiding the moon
it was impossible, and the plane would not even take off.
    However, this was a fine night, and
Flick was hopeful. Sure enough, a couple of minutes before midnight, she heard
the unmistakable sound of a single-engined plane, faint at first, then rapidly
growing louder, like a burst of applause, and she felt a home going thrill. She
began to flash her light in the Morse letter "X." If she flashed the
wrong letter, the pilot would suspect a trap and go away without landing.
    The plane circled once, then came
down steeply. It touched down on Flick's right, braked, turned between Michel
and Claude, taxied back to Flick, and turned into the wind again, completing a
long oval and finishing up ready for takeoff.
    The aircraft was a Westland
Lysander, a small, high-winged monoplane, painted matte black. It was flown by
a crew of one. It had two seats for passengers, but Flick had known a
"Lizzie" to carry four, one on the floor and one on the parcel shelf.
    The pilot did not stop the engine.
His aim was to remain on the ground no more than a few seconds.
    Flick wanted to hug Michel and wish
him well, but she also wanted to slap his face and tell him to keep his hands
off other women. Perhaps it was just as well that she had no time for either.
    With a brief wave, Flick scrambled
up the metal ladder, threw open the hatch, and climbed aboard.
    The pilot glanced behind, and Flick
gave him the thumbs-up. The little plane jerked forward and picked up speed,
then rose into the air and climbed steeply.
    Flick could see one or two lights in
the village: country people were careless about the blackout. When Flick had
flown in, perilously late at four in the morning, she had been able to see from
the air the red glare of the baker's oven, and driving through the village she
had smelled the new bread, the essence of France.
    The plane banked to turn, and Flick
saw the moonlit faces of Michel, Gilberte, and Claude as three white smears on
the black background of the pasture. As the plane leveled and headed for
England, she realized with a sudden surge of grief that she might never see
them again.

 
THE SECOND DAY
----
Monday, May 29, 1944

CHAPTER
    SIX
     
    DIETER FRANCK DROVE through the
night in the big Hispano-Suiza, accompanied by his young assistant, Lieutenant
Hans Hesse. The car was ten years old, but its massive eleven-liter engine was
tireless. Yesterday evening, Dieter had found a neat row of bullet holes
stitched in the generous curve of its offside fender, a souvenir of the
skirmish in the square at Sainte-Cécile, but there was no mechanical damage,
and he felt the holes added to the car's glamour, like a dueling scar on the
cheek of a Prussian officer.
    Lieutenant Hesse masked the
headlights to drive through the blacked-out streets of Paris, then removed the
covers when they got on the road to Normandy. They took turns at the wheel, two
hours each, though Hesse, who adored the car and hero-worshiped its owner,
would gladly have driven the whole way.
    Half asleep in the passenger seat,
mesmerized by the country roads unwinding in the headlights, Dieter tried to
picture his future. Would the Allies reconquer France, driving the occupying
forces out? The thought of Germany defeated was dismal. Perhaps there would be
some kind of peace settlement, with Germany surrendering France and Poland but
keeping Austria and Czechoslovakia. That seemed not much better. He found it
hard to imagine everyday life back in Cologne, with his wife and family, after
the excitement and sensual indulgence of Paris and Stéphanie. The only happy
ending, for Dieter and for Germany, would be for Rommel's army to push the
invaders back into the sea.
    Before dawn on a damp morning Hesse
drove into