Hanging on

machines deep enough into the woods to hide them. Someone would stumble upon them; we'd be found out and killed in an hour. You might also suggest my men and I level the camp and move into Eisenhower where we could hide until the Panzers are by. That won't work either. Moving the machines would churn up the road through your village and leave us wide open to any other German patrols on another route. Besides, and most importantly, the Nazis are bound to run at least a minimal search of your town. There is no way we could conceal seventy-odd men and all these big machines against even a cursory inspection. Lastly, you might think we could hide out in the woods and abandon our machines to be destroyed by the Germans. But if we did that, General Blade would abandon us, and then we'd be as good as dead- stranded here behind German lines."
        "I'm aware of all that," Maurice said.
        "But there's still a way?" Major Kelly, against all his better judgment, allowed himself a bit of hope, the terminal disease. He couldn't help himself.
        "Yes. A way out," Maurice said.
        His sixteen-year-old sharks nodded soberly.
        Having forgotten the mud on his head, treacherous hope kindled, Major Kelly leaned toward The Frog. "How much will this cost us?"
        "Considerable," Maurice said.
        "I was afraid of that."
        "However, you will receive a great deal in return-you will live."
        Kelly gave himself another dribble of whiskey, though he could not afford to drink much more. Already, he was seeing two of everything, including two of Maurice. He did not want to get drunk enough to see three of everything, because the pair of Maurices was already more than he could stand. "Specifics. What do you want in return for whatever help you give me?"
        Maurice held up a hand for patience. "First let me explain how you can save yourselves. After that, the price will not seem so bad."
        "Go ahead." He drank his dribble of whiskey.
        Maurice put down his glass, got up, stiff and serious even in his baggy trousers. "You will not move any of your equipment or attempt to conceal your presence. Not even the big D-7 must be driven away. Instead, you will build a town on this site, a town designed to shield all of your heavy machinery and your men from the Nazis."
        Kelly butted the heel of his palm against his head to clear his ear and hear better. Chunks of dried mud rained down around him. "Build a town?"
        "Exactly," Maurice said. He smiled, warmed by his own suggestion. "You will build a French village here and hide your massive machines in the specially designed buildings. Clever, eh?"
        "Impossible," Kelly said. "You don't throw up a building in a few hours. And we'd have to-construct a whole town before the Germans got here."
        "You do throw up the building in a few hours," Maurice said. "If you do not intend to live in it for very long."
        "That's another problem. Who will live in this town?" Was he hearing Maurice right? Did he have mud in his ears? He checked. No mud.
        "I will supply half the population of my village. With your men, they will make a convincing citizenry."
        "My men don't speak French. They'll be found out immediately."
        "I've considered that," Maurice said. He poured himself a last whiskey. "The one institution the Nazis have been careful not to tamper with extensively is the Roman Catholic Church. Hitler respects the Church's worldwide power if not its philosophy. Himmler himself is a Catholic. Therefore, our fake town will be a religious community, a retreat for priests and nuns and selected members of the laity. It will be built around a convent. And we will tell the Nazis that, in this convent, the deaf and dumb are taught simple skills. Your men will be the poor afflicted peasants, while the women from my village have already volunteered to be the nuns. It is quite simple, really."
        "More simple yet," Kelly said, "why not build the convent in Eisenhower? We could conceal the machines and my men inside of it and not have to build a whole damned village."
        "No good," Maurice said. "According to my resources, the man in charge of this Panzer convoy is General Adolph Rotenhausen. He was in the first waves of shock troops to overwhelm France. He passed through my town then, out on the main highway. He made his headquarters in my house four nights running during the invasion of