Lucette looked at them. “For a moment, let’s set aside our duties and focus on the location of the German troops. Regardless of which direction we choose, we’ll need to find a way to avoid them. Agreed?”
They nodded.
“Jimmie,” Lucette said, “remind us again of what you saw from the air before you were shot down.”
He grabbed a stick and drew lines in a section of dirt. “There are several divisions of German tanks storming toward the Channel. They are far outpacing the German infantry and supply units that are following behind them. So, there is a small window for us to escape to the south. If we try to go west toward the Channel, we’ll likely be fighting our way—for three hundred kilometers—between Panzer divisions and Wehrmacht troops. It will be nearly impossible to make it.”
Ruth chewed on her bottom lip.
“It’s roughly sixty kilometers to Reims,” Jimmie said. “We’ll need to cross a line of the German invasion to get there. But if we can get through before the German infantry closes the gap, we’ll have a chance of reaching the protection of Allied forces.”
Ruth raised a finger. “You saw all that from up there?”
“I did,” Jimmie said.
“What happens if the tanks change direction and head south for Paris?” Ruth asked.
“Then we made a mistake,” Jimmie said, “and we might be in a worse predicament than we are now.”
Ruth, her mind racing, glanced over the area.
Jimmie placed the tip of the stick in the dirt. “My hunch is that the tanks will continue west to head off divisions of the British Expeditionary Force. If the German military’s intent was to capture Paris, I think their forces would not have turned toward the Channel.”
Ruth looked at Lucette. “What do you think?”
“Like you, I feel a sense of duty to report to our post,” Lucette said. “But I don’t know how we could make it to the Channel with hundreds of Panzers in front of us and the German Army on our heels. I think we should go to Reims.”
Ruth drew a deep breath and exhaled. “All right. Let’s go to Reims.”
She and Lucette mapped out a route and got into the ambulance.
Jimmie squeezed into the passenger seat with Lucette. Sitting next to the door, he rolled down the window and slipped his revolver from his jacket.
Ruth started the engine, backed out onto the dirt road, and then headed south. She worried that the German infantry would appear at any moment, and she listened through the open window for sounds of enemy fire. They traveled over ten kilometers without seeing a soul. The roads were empty, except for a few abandoned wagons, and they passed through two small villages, Mesmont and Sery, that were completely deserted. To Ruth, it looked as if France’s rural residents had vanished.
“Take the next left,” Lucette said, holding the map.
Ruth approached a narrow, unpaved road and made the turn. The vehicle bounced over ruts. “This road is barely wide enough for one vehicle. Are you sure this will take us where we need to go?”
Lucette ran a finger over a dotted line on the map. “Oui.” Ruth shifted gears and turned the wheel to avoid a large hole. As she drove the vehicle up a slope, she noticed movement that looked like gray turtles cresting the hill. First, one turtle. Then another turtle. Within seconds, two Wehrmacht soldiers wearing shell-like helmets came into view. One man was looking through field binoculars, and his comrade was raising the antennae to a wireless radio. Several meters away, and parked in the middle of the road, was a motorcycle with a sidecar-mounted machine gun.
Fear flooded Ruth, and her foot slipped from the accelerator.
Lucette’s jaw slacked and the map fell from her hands.
“Turn around,” Jimmie said.
The German soldier lowered his field glasses, and his companion turned toward them and plucked a pistol from a holster attached to his belt.
Ruth, her heart racing, looked for a spot to spin the vehicle around but deep ruts covered both sides of the narrow road. A choice burned inside her. Before she changed her mind, she shifted gears and stomped on the accelerator.
CHAPTER 21
SIGNY-L’ABBAYE, FRANCE—MAY 16, 1940
Ruth’s heart pounded against her chest as the ambulance, its engine roaring, barreled toward the German scout unit.
“Reverse!” Lucette shouted.
Jimmie, his eyes wide, aimed his revolver through his open side window.
A German soldier fired his pistol, and a bullet struck the vehicle’s right fender.
Ruth flinched but didn’t veer away.
Jimmie returned fire. Bullets pierced the ground near the soldiers, sending them sprinting for their motorcycle.
Ruth’s eyes locked on the machine gun, mounted to the motorcycle’s sidecar. She pushed hard on the accelerator, but the pedal was already to the floor. “Hold on!”
Lucette pressed her hands to the dash and lowered her head.
The soldiers reached the motorcycle and swiveled the machine gun, but its sidecar—positioned at over a ninety-degree angle from the oncoming ambulance—would not allow the gun’s nozzle to point to the target. The Germans pushed on the gun’s swivel but it wouldn’t turn any farther. One of the soldiers fired the weapon, spraying bullets past the side of the ambulance.
Ruth, unwavering, squeezed hard on the wheel as she closed in on them.
The eyes of the Germans widened, and they dived to the side of the road as the ambulance smashed into their motorcycle.
The impact jolted Ruth from her seat, but she held firm to the wheel and kept the ambulance on the road. She plowed ahead and looked through her side mirror to find the motorcycle, smashed and flipped upside down in a ditch, and the soldiers on their knees aiming their pistols.
