“Allies Land in France. Canadians in Spearhead, Eisenhower Announces,” proclaimedThe Globe and Mail.“Canadians in Thick of It as Allies Smash Inland,” read the Saskatchewan’sLeader Post. “Canadian Troops Lead Great Commando Raid,” declared theHamilton Spectator. And further down the front page of the same paper: “Mighty Allied Forces Land, Shatter Path into France.”
They had done it, Dot realized.
“Excellent work, Dot,” Gerald said, striding past. “Your contribution was critical to this success. You should be proud.”
“I am, sir. Proud of all of us. I have reports of over nine hundred acts of sabotage. Gus and his fighters have been working overtime.”
“As have we all,” he agreed. “I feel cautiously optimistic in saying we have them on the run at last.”
She flipped through more reports, her heart swelling with pride and grief for the tens of thousands of men who had fought and would not come home, for those who still fought, and for those operating behind the scenes. History would remember the beaches, but she and so many others would keep the secrets that had made it all possible.
fifty-eightDASH— Somewhere in Northwest France —
Dash dreamed of a bear gnawing on her arm, his breath hot as acid. Trapped in the murk of sleep, she could only lie back and watch it happen, because the rest of her limbs were too heavy to move. When the talons of a giant eagle latched on to her arm and tried to rip her from the bear’s jaws, she forced herself to the surface.
No bears, no birds. Just Ruby and Gordon and a man carrying a brown leather bag. He shook his head at the two of them then glanced back at Dash. Seeing she was awake, he reached for his coat, and Gordon walked him to the door.
“How are you feeling?” Ruby asked.
“Hot,” Dash mumbled, “and dizzy.”
“The doctor says you have a bad infection. Not a surprise. You’ve been sleeping for days.”
Dash remembered this feeling from being sick as a child. The doctor coming and going from her parents’ house, speaking quietly behind closed doors. But she had survived that. She would survive this. Back then she hadn’t had a bear and eagle battling over her arm.
She hadn’t been in such luxury, either. From the comfort of a large bed, she studied the room she was in. The moon shone through the tallestwindows Dash had ever seen, washing the lavish bedroom an eerie shade of white. A pair of dark, embroidered armchairs stood at the foot of the bed, near a solid wood cabinet. The ceiling was at least ten feet high, and the walls were liberally covered by gold-framed mirrors and paintings.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Safe apartment in Paris,” Ruby said.
Dash must have heard her wrong. “Paris? Isn’t Paris a beehive of Nazis?”
“It’s also the base of one of our most active underground networks.” Ruby pressed the back of her cold hand against Dash’s forehead and grimaced. “You gotta work on getting better so we can send you home.”
“How long have we been here?”
“Two days. Too long. We’re waiting for instructions.”
“From whom?”
She jabbed her thumb toward the door. “Gordon has the radio.”
A half hour later, Dash was shivering violently. Ruby wrapped her in a blanket, but the cold was within her, battling the fever. All night her body alternated between sweltering hot and frozen, but in the morning, she felt some relief. Ruby helped her sit, and between them they moved her to one of the armchairs. Once she was settled, Dash got a good look at her arm for the first time. The stick had been removed. The wound had been cleaned and bandaged. Her arm was still swollen but not as much. To her relief, her fingers moved independently once more. Her flight suit was gone, she saw. She wore someone’s clean shirt and trousers.
“My compass,” she said. “Did you find an old compass?”
Ruby dug it out of a small trunk. “You didn’t want to give me this,” she said, studying the banged-up old thing. She handed it to Dash. “Must be something special.”
“My dad’s.”
Gordon brought her a bowl of soup, but Dash could barely taste it. Still, the warmth felt good, and she swallowed as much as she could.
“You gotta eat more, Margaret.” Ruby was scowling at her. “You never know when you’ll eat again.”
Across the room, Gordon’s radio sparked to life, but Dash was too groggy to translate the Morse code.
“They’re waiting for us at the meetup point,” he told Ruby. “We have to go now. It’s too dangerous here. They’ve spotted enemy forces in the area.”
