I searched their leader—I think he was a lieutenant—for arms, and put my hand on his watch. I looked that beautiful thing all over and handed it back to him. He bowed to me in thanks. Yes, strange things sometimes happen. We took our new American prisoners of war into the château. They weren’t there for long, I believe, before they were reunited with their troops.

We stuck there, but did not see anything of our officers. We decided to make a breakout from our reconnaissance unit, but we did not get very far. There was shooting, and I was wounded in my shoulder, so we pulled back to the château. This was in the afternoon of June 6.

During the night, our combat element broke out in selected groups. We were in a group of about 100 to 120 men. We marched across the fields and along the hedgerows in the direction of Carentan. At dawn on June 7, we reached the railway line between Cherbourg and Carentan, but the railway embankment had been blown up and the whole area was under water. We decided to wait until evening, and then try to pass over the ties and tracks that were hanging there. But it was not to be: American units discovered us and we were encircled and arrested. I believe that the house in which we surrendered is today a hospital or a home for the elderly.

In Chef-du-Pont we were searched for arms. Everything went very quickly for me, because I was wounded. A doctor bandaged me up, and I was transported by Jeep to the beach. There I sat down in the sand and watched the enormous navy anchoring along the coast. Afterwards I was loaded on an amphibious truck and taken onto an American ship. That was the end of the war for me. ⁽²⁾