Ollie lowered his hand, then adjusted his footing, his ankle stiff and swollen. “Madeleine, we need medical supplies. Alcohol, bandages, anything you can spare.”

She looked at the lieutenant, his face crusted with dried blood.

“We also need a place to hide,” Ollie said. “If you can’t help us, we’ll leave and won’t put you at risk.”

Madeleine reached down and scratched the hog’s bristly brown fur, as if it were a dog. The hog grunted and wiggled its curled tail. “Wait here.” She turned and left the barn, the hog trotting close behind.

“Where’s she going?” Boar asked.

Ollie looked outside and saw the woman enter her house, then emerge a moment later without her rifle. She proceeded down a dirt road with her hog by her side. “Headed to the village.”

“We should leave,” Boar said.

“And go where?” Ollie tried walking, but each step shot pain into his leg, as though his ankle was filled with broken glass. His shoulder began to throb. He exhaled and leaned against the barn door. “The sun is up. The place will be swarming with Germans searching for a missing pilot.”

“She could be helping them, on her way to the Nazis right now.” Boar adjusted the bandage over his eye.

“I don’t think so. She would have gone to them instead of waking us.”

Boar cleared his throat and spat on the ground. “Let’s get this straight, Yank. I don’t take orders from you. I give them.”

Ollie looked at the battered lieutenant. “You’re right.”

Boar turned his head, as if his ears had also been injured in the crash.

“I’m American. We’re supposed to be neutral.” He stepped to the lieutenant. “Maybe I should just leave. Let you fight your bloody war.”

The lieutenant laughed. “They’ll find you.”

“I could claim I was traveling and got stuck in France during the invasion.”

“They’d still shoot you.”

“Possibly,” Ollie said. “But I’m not the one wearing the RAF flight suit.”

Boar’s jaw muscles flexed.

“The fact is, you need me more than I need you. If you want to go, go. I’m waiting for Madeleine.”

Boar tapped his pistol. “If she returns with Germans, the first shot I fire will be for you.”

Duchess fluttered in her cage.

Ollie limped over to Duchess. He noticed that she looked impatient, scratching her feet and turning in her tight quarters. Opening the cage, he reached in and stroked her back. She made no effort to escape, seeming content to receive a bit of attention. After brushing her wings with his thumb, he retrieved the paper and small pencil that was stored inside. Placing the paper on his lap, he began to write.

The scratching of lead caused Boar to turn his head. “What are you doing?”

“Gonna send Susan’s pigeon home,” Ollie said, writing. “I’m including a note to tell them where we are.”