Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16 5:50 A.M. The soldier—he looked so young Paul wondered if he was even eighteen—held his hand out toward Paul. It took Paul a moment to understand: He was offering to help Paul to his feet. "Danke," Paul said. Paul had barely realized he knew that German word.

Thank you. Their eyes met. The soldier didn't look like a cruel Nazi. He looked like a kid, someone Paul and Gerard might have wanted to play soccer with. But then the young soldier suddenly stood up straight. He clicked the heels of his black boots together and threw his arm straight out in front of him—a Nazi salute. Paul whirled around and saw a furious-looking Nazi officer. The man's face was red with rage. He shoved the young soldier so hard the young man stumbled and almost fell. And then the officer stood over Paul, so close that Paul could smell the man's sour sweat. "What are you doing here?" the Nazi bellowed. "Nobody is allowed in this area! It is strictly forbidden." He reminded Paul of Stroop—the animal glint in his eye, the knife-sharp edge of his voice. How Paul could sense how much he

enjoyed this, that he had the power to make people feel terrified. The Nazi reached over and roughly searched Paul's pockets. He pulled out something small. Paul's blood turned to ice. The C-3—that extra slab that Mr. Leon had given him. Paul had forgotten that he still had it. The Nazi held it up and studied it carefully. His eyes narrowed to needle slits. He knew exactly what it was, Paul could see. Paul turned to bolt, but the Nazi clamped his hand on Paul's arm. Paul tried to jerk away, but the hand gripped him like a metal claw. The Nazi shouted out, and two other soldiers rushed toward them. Paul's heart filled with terror as he thought of what would happen next. They would drag him to some dark dungeon, and make him tell them where he had gotten the C-3. Paul's mind flashed with knives, with flames, all the terrible ways the

Nazis would hurt him so he'd tell them his secrets—about the resistance, Mr. Leon, and Maman. Thunder rumbled, as though Paul's fear was tearing open the sky. Paul glanced out over the English Channel. Through the thick fog, he could see small flashes of orange. There was a faint whistling sound that got louder and louder and louder: Sssssssssssssssss. Seconds later, Kaboom! An explosion rocked the ground. Both Paul and the Nazi fell into the grass. Paul rolled away from him as black, billowing smoke blinded him. Everything around Paul seemed to go quiet. He coughed, and tears poured from his eyes. The smoke cleared, and Paul saw that the Nazi who'd grabbed him was still on the ground, deathly still. That blast had killed him.

Paul scrambled to his feet. He still had no idea what was happening, but this was his chance to get away from here. He started to run. But then it hit him… that thundering sound. The bright orange flashes through the fog. The explosion. The Allied ships were here! The thunder roared again. Sssssssssssssssss. Kaboom! The Allies were firing from their battleships, Paul realized. They must be trying to crush the Nazi defenses—the machine guns and cannons that were lined up on the cliffs. The Allies wanted to clear the way before their soldiers poured onto the beaches. But if Paul didn't get out of here now, those Allied battleships were going to crush him, too.