“Pigeons are smart, like Louis,” Ollie said, placing a board to the side. “Susan’s a remarkable trainer. She’s gonna help us win the war.”

Madeleine smiled and adjusted the cigarette in her mouth.

Ollie removed the last board, making a three-foot-diameter opening, big enough for him to crawl through. He stuck his head into the hole. A dirt floor. Cobwebs. The smell of earth and stagnant air. The cottage, or at least the area under the kitchen, had been built without a basement. It was a simple cobblestone foundation. No more than two feet of space lay between the earth and floorboards.

With pieces of canvas that Madeleine retrieved from a shed, Ollie lined the floor of the crawl space. He replaced the boards, like pieces of a puzzle, and noticed the glaring holes left by the missing nails. So he removed the nail heads with a pair of thick pruning shears, then glued them over the holes using paste they made from flour and water. It had taken them all day. Except for a few scratches, the loose boards were almost unnoticeable.

As Ollie admired their work, he heard a sizzle. The scent of sautéing onions. His mouth watered. He made his way over to Madeleine, hovering over a wood-fired stove, stirring the contents of an iron skillet with a wooden spoon.

Madeleine tossed in a handful of limp carrots, including the withered tops. “Hungry?”

“Yes,” Ollie said. The aroma of caramelized onions was intoxicating. He couldn’t recall the last time he had eaten.

“Get your friend,” she said, pointing her spoon.

Ollie found the lieutenant just as he had left him. Sleeping. It took several attempts to wake him, and he had to resort to kicking his boots.

Boar slowly sat up and rubbed the stubble on his jowl. “How long was I out?”

“All day,” Ollie said.

“You gave me too much anesthesia, Yank.” He took a few deep breaths.

Ollie gave the lieutenant a moment to get to his feet, then led him into the cottage, where Madeleine was spooning browned vegetables onto plates. He helped Boar into a chair as Madeleine set the table. A buttery scent of steaming vegetables filled Ollie’s nose. His belly gurgled.

Madeleine placed a fork in the lieutenant’s hand.

Boar blindly stabbed at his plate. Metal tines clicked against the pottery. After forking a hunk of carrot, he stuck it in his mouth, chewed, then gagged. He spit the food into his palm and placed it on the side of his plate. “Take me back to the barn, Yank.” Boar lowered his head onto the table. “I need to rest.”

“We’re sleeping inside,” Ollie said, standing up from the table.

Ollie removed the floorboards and helped Boar into the hole. The lieutenant hunkered into the crawl space, like a bear entering a cave for hibernation.