JUNE 6, 1944

JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT

The night was very dark, with thick clouds covering the stars. They walked along the paths Paul knew so well. The night was so quiet and peaceful it was impossible to imagine what was ahead. Those ships must already be gathered in the channel, packed with soldiers. Mr. Leon said there might be close to 150,000 men, not only from America and England but Canada and Greece and other countries, too.

Paul thought of what it must be like for those soldiers, riding through the choppy waters in the dark. Would they get seasick? Paul had, the one time he went on a boat ride on the channel.

And what would happen when they got to the beaches?

The boats wouldn’t be able to bring them all the way in to the land, Mr. Leon had explained. They would have to get off their boats at least a hundred yards from the beach. They would wade ashore in the freezing water, carrying their guns and supplies.

Paul tried not to think of those Nazi machine guns and cannons poking out from the cliffs, like hungry beasts waiting for their prey.

So instead, he thought of the question he’d been meaning to ask Mr. Leon since he arrived at the castle.

“Mr. Leon,” he whispered. “What about that burned body they found near the tower?”

He glanced at Mr. Leon, and to his surprise his teacher wore a faint smile.

“We made it up,” he said, stepping over a fallen branch. “The burned body was a lie, a trick. Pierre wrote up a report in the police department to make it appear official.

“And it worked. Nobody came to the castle,” Mr. Leon went on. He looked at Paul. “Until you showed up.”

“And what about the dragon?” Paul asked, pointing to a gap in a big bush they needed to pass through. “Do you think about it when you’re at the castle?”

Mr. Leon actually slept at the castle, Maman had said.

“I do,” Mr. Leon said. “Quite a bit. But not in the way you might think. In the legend, the dragon protects the castle. And when there was a war, the people of Le Roc would rush to the castle for safety.”

Paul thought about this. So this old castle had always been a place where people could hide from danger.

“I haven’t been to the tower,” Mr. Leon continued. “It seems ready to crumble apart. But I’ve looked up there plenty of times. I haven’t seen any glowing eyes, or heard any whooshing wings. To tell you the truth, though, I wouldn’t mind if I did. It’s lonely in that castle when I’m sleeping there at night. It’s nice to think that there’s something watching over me. Watching over all of us.”

Paul nodded. He liked that idea, too.

They chatted quietly for another couple minutes, until the smell of salt water tickled Paul’s nose. They were getting closer to the beach.

It was time to stop talking. This was where most of the Nazis lived, and where Stroop had his headquarters. They crept along, zigzagging their way to the cliffs. There were Nazi guards patrolling the streets, but they looked relaxed. Some talked and joked.

To them this was just a regular night. Paul thought of Hitler, sleeping peacefully, with no idea of what was about to happen.

Paul led Mr. Leon over a stone wall, down a weedy path, and through another hedgerow. On the other side, the Nazis had put up barbed wire. But Mr. Leon put on thick leather gloves and took out a pair of large wire cutters. He pulled and cut the twisted, sharp-pointed wire without shredding his skin.

They hiked up a steep hill, and then there they were.

Ten deadly Nebelwerfers lined up in a row.