 Major Newton, please. Would you kindly fill in the pass, please? Room 14, lean away, sir. Yes, thank you. Room 14, miss. Thank you. Are you going in here, too? Yes. Come in. Good morning. Good morning. Morning, sir. Good morning. Why don't you two have met? Captain Brown and Miss Williams. How do you do? Won't you sit down? Cigarette? Thank you. Well, I'm sure you're both wondering what all this is about. Did you get any clues at our previous interviews? No. Well, I made a guess. It seems to have been wrong. What was it? Some sort of commander work, but obviously, if Miss Williams is involved. As a matter of fact, your guess wasn't so far out. Commander work isn't a bad way of describing it. I want you both to go to occupied France. France? How? By sea or air. Only you won't be going in uniform. What do we do when we get there? Organize resistance. Act as liaison officers with London. Would we be working together? I hope so. Miss Williams would be your wireless operator. Do you think we're the right people for the job? We're sure of it. All right. I'm on. Of course. Good. What do we do first, sir? Get fit. They had their own ideas about getting us fit. No smart drill movements. No parade ground stuff. They wanted just to look like ordinary, unhealthy civilians and yet be able to take a command-o battle course in our stride. We went on a 30 mile walk across country with only a map and compass to guide us. There was a theme song for our course. Je tiens ma révérence. We used to make up unprintable words to it. In French, of course. Then we joined the parachute school. Dump was the worst. From an aircraft was better. Somehow, the noise of the engines made me excited. Then we went to another school. This really was a school. I mean, we had lessons. The instructors were like smooth, young university dons who'd taken a course under Pimpernel Smith or Raffles. They told us in the most gentlemanly manner how to organize our private lives as saboteurs. How to burgle a house. How to get out of handcuffs. They told us almost apologetically about lethal tablets, suicide pills to be taken only as a last resort. We may know it's about organization and personal security. Learned how to recognize all ranks of the German services. Told how to use codes. How the BBC sent personal messages during the French news. The organization of the Gestapo. Until our brains reeled under the load of information. At another school we were taught how to organize reception committees. That's local people who'd collect in a field the night the RAF were coming to parachute supplies. With electric torches they'd guide the planes to the field. Then there was a radio device called the Eureka used to guide an aircraft to us from 20 miles away. And there was the S-phone, kind of wireless telephone on which we could talk to pilots or to anyone who might fly out from London. Then I started work at the Wiley School, transmitting, receiving, coding and decoding Morphs, Morphs and more Morphs. I dreamt in Morphs. I even started knitting in Morphs. We had a week's intensive lecturing about the weak spots in the industrial system of occupied Europe. The railway network was included in this. We were shown how we could hold up supplies by cutting the line at the right place. Another weak spot was the electric power supply. We were told to attack transformers wherever we could. There was evidently no use blowing up pylons as they could be repaired too quickly. Railway engines have their weak spots too. Quite a small charge in the right place can put an engine out of action for months. Sometimes people had to be got out of occupied Europe in a hurry by air. The RAF told us about the pattern of lights for the flower path and the type of field they'd need for a landing ground. We finished our training with a scheme which meant we were sent off separately with forged British identity cards. I was dropped with my wireless set 10 miles from the town, had to make my way in, get lodging and transmit messages at regular intervals. I was given the necessary papers to get a job in the large munitions works. I had to bring back plans of secret plant to prove that I'd got past the guards. Half an hour after dropping us, the signal was sent to all police services in the area that the parachute is to being dropped, believed to be a German agent. We got away with it somehow, but when we came back, we were put through a fierce interrogation. And although we didn't know it at the time, questions were being asked about us in London. The Gestapo had been having a roundup in France just lately. Our worst headaches in the Vond where Petronius and Camus were arrested last month. We must assume that the whole of the organization that they built up is blown and send out a new organizer and wireless operator as soon as possible to get that area going again. Have we anyone suitable to send out? There are two people in that unfinished training, sir, a man and a woman. And Ted, you'll see if they can be ready in time for the coming moon period and get them out to the field. Now the organization's clothing section took us in hand and without asking for coupons, tailors, dressmakers, shoemakers, prepared clothes for us suitable for France. Clothes it wouldn't shout made in England. The attention to detail was fantastic. Even laundry masks were removed from our underclothes. Backgrounds had to be worked out for our new French identities. My father was a bank manager in Paris. He died about 20 years ago. Then my mother brought me to London. I was about eight years old. We can stick to part of that anyway. But let's say she took you to Quebec. It's a bit further away and will help to explain the accent. All around Bordeaux I know very well. And Paris, of course, and La Touraine. Well, let's say you were married to a wine merchant in Bordeaux who used to travel a great deal. They prepared complete sets of papers fitting in with our new identities. We've heard from France today you'll be dropped by Paris shoot about six miles from Henri Picard's house. You've got the names of your other contacts, haven't you? Yes. Good. All these people are reliable according to our latest information, but don't take anything for granted. Password? Je voudrais voir Mme. Nadine. Vous voulez dire Mme. Nadine Perron? Non, c'est Mme. Nadine Ducrot, but Cousine que je cherche. Your operational names will be Felix and Cat. When do we go, sir? It all depends on the weather. We'll lay on the operation for the next moon period. And you'll go down to the holding school near the airfield and wait there. Why that soothing? Very. Do you knit French style or English style? No style. All styles that I like. Oh, no, they're not. It's just the kind of thing to get you caught out, Mme. I've seen French women knit and it's quite different here. Let me show you. Hey, give that back. You'll undo it all. Cat, it's not scrubbed after all. We're on. We're definitely going. Yes, I know. At the end of the side road closed to the public. We entered an RAF station. This airfield held one of the biggest secrets of the war. But it was from here that hundreds of agents and supplies by the ton were delivered by air to occupied Europe. An old farmhouse had somehow managed to survive right in the middle of the airfield. There weren't any cows in the barns. The barns were used now for packing and storing parachutes. Good. You're any five minutes late. This is your dispatcher, Warrant Officer Brown. How do you do? Right, so I need the warehouse. Look out for the kids, will you? Yes, sir. And a torch. It's all right, I think. Now, I'll help you on with these if you could just sit down and do it. Now, let's just check you over. Have you anything in your pockets? I don't think so. Oh. Oh. French for British? Thank you very much. Just a minute. Six months. There won't be much with you in France. Don't forget you owe me when I come back. Okay. Any bus tickets in your bag? That's the emergency ration. That's an extra ration. There's the torch. Yeah. And that's a bandage. There's your spade, and there's a handle. Here are your papers, Felix. Good. Identity card, ration card, demobilization. Thank you. Have you got your British card? Microfitters of your targets. Some small money, this will be useful. Good. And the money belt. Thank you very much. Here are your papers. Can I have your British identity card? Good. Here's some loose money. Now, you have your codes in W.T. Plan. Have them talk. Yes, they were given to me in London. Oh, good. Felix, here are your lethal tablets. Thanks very much. How's it work? Oh, I'll show you. Cat, your tablets are in the lipstick. This is your pilot link on a Chapman. This is Cat, sir. How do you do? And this is Felix. How do you do? How do you do? Well, we've got a good night for the trip, so you should have an easy drive. There, I told you we had the best pilots in the squadron. I bet you say that to all the girls. Goodbye. Best of luck. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye, son. Thanks very much for everything. The dispatcher moved us up to the front of the aircraft to get all the weight forward for the takeoff. It's ridiculous the kind of thoughts that hit you at really serious moments like this. I remember thinking I'd be able to run my Austin 7 for three years on the petrol we'd be using on this trip. We couldn't see him because of the blackout curtains, so the dispatcher said we should try and get some sleep. He got down sleeping bags, and I was soon tucked in. He didn't really sleep, just dozed off. I watched him moving our packages. I hoped he wouldn't bang the one with my wireless sets. Then I realized he'd soon be landing with a bang on some field in France. He was hooking the static lights at the fuselage. These are wire ropes which automatically rip the envelopes off the chutes as they drop. The envelope and ropes stay attached to the plane, and the chutes free to open up by itself. Coffee and sandwiches were all part of the RAF service. The dispatcher was a grand hostess. He did all he could to make us comfortable. But he couldn't stop my tummy feeling like a lump of hot blood. The moment came. We were approaching the target area. There'd been no flak. Actually, the thought of being attacked had never really occurred to me. I felt such a complete passenger. The dispatcher was the only member of the crew I saw, but I felt the others were taking good care and nothing happened to us. Yes, but you gave me a terrible fright. I was told to go see him. You can lend me a bike. What else? Oh, yes. Identity cards. You can make us real identity cards. Real ones. Real ones. And if you can find someone to accompany us, because you have a lot of luggage, right? Ari knew the region well, so I decided to fool him with any plans he'd made. He thought it best for us to make our headquarters in the big market town of the area. He'd even fixed up a room for me there. His nephew, Maurice, traveled with me to show me the way. It was best for Felix and I not to be seen together, so I traveled in another part of the train. Georgette, Henri's sister, came with me. Maurice and I got off at a small station just outside the town and set off to walk in. The last time I'd walked through a French town had been on my summer holiday in 1939. I was just thinking how completely unchanged everything was, how the cafes were just the same, children coming out of school in their ugly little black overalls, the priest on a bike. In fact, I was just thinking I'd really be able to spend a very pleasant holiday here when I suddenly realized a German officer was crossing the street in front of me. That brought me back to reality with a jolt and I was pleased when we turned into the little quiet square where Henri had got me a room. Bonjour. Bonjour. I'm glad you're here. Not as glad as I am. What happened? The police were searching luggage at the station. They may have opened my suitcases. Gosh, what did you do? I tried six of them. Did it work? No, it was a complete flop. I had to open them. What about the WT set? I told them with a sweet smile it was an X-ray machine. Must have been a very sweet smile for them to swallow that. Where are the suitcases now? I left them in the cloakroom at the station. Georgette has gone back to Henri's. I fixed up a room for you with the other side of the river. We shouldn't be too close together and after the night, of course, we won't meet. My nandy's son passes your house on his way to work every day. He'll be able to take messages between us. When do I move in? This afternoon. It looked a comfortable, inconspicuous house. Of course, the landlady and her family were in the resistance movement too. It reminded me of a house near Paris where I spent two happy years just before the war. It was funny to think I was to make my home here, a room of my own where I'd never be able to invite friends to tea. This is from Felix. Take this on, Sardone. Your number one received. Glad safe arrival, stop. Send map reference of ground where you can receive stars next moon. The French were marvelous. I used to borrow everything from them. It was impossible to buy a bike and before I managed to get one on the black market, I had to live on borrowed bikes. My plan was to organize eight or ten resistance groups within a radius of 25 miles of the town. I had to do everything by personal contact. It was amazing how one good contact, a farmer, a wine merchant, a priest, led invariably to another. Broadly speaking, there were three kinds of contacts and I tried to keep them separate. In the first group were the active ones, those I could rely on to do a job of work, sabotage or taking part in a reception committee. Then there were safe houses, usually older people who could be relied on for hospitality and where I could go at any time of day or night and get a bed or a meal. No questions asked. Then thirdly, there were the letter boxes. That is people like cafe proprietors or garage owners where I could leave messages or meet people by appointment without attracting attention. Of course we couldn't use telephones, they'd be tapped. Even internal letters were censored. I had to keep a good look out for controls on the roads and avoid them where possible. That's one reason why I went about on a bike. I could keep to side roads and the car would have attracted far too much attention. We always had to avoid attracting attention, avoid breaking any little local regulation like not having a rear light. Or if it didn't light up even in broad daylight, they'd find you on the spot or even run you in. Then you'd really be sunk because they'd be sure to check up on the number of your identity card and find it didn't exist. It would have been just silly to have been had up for a thing like that which could have started a chain of inquiries which might land before a firing squad. I always got a marvelous welcome whenever I went. So now I had to decide on a ground for my first reception. On my endless bike rides I'd already noticed two or three fields that might be suitable and I looked them out on the Michelin map. You could buy these maps anywhere in France and it was perfectly normal for anyone to have them. I decided if possible I'd get a field where the farmer would be in the now. So I went on to a taciturn and solid young farmer. But his field was a little too near the main road. And then I remembered Dero Monsieur Pomeran. Everyone loved him and he loved everyone except the Germans and the Vichyites. He'd fought in the Morocco campaign in 1905. Love telling old soldier stories about hairbread escapes from lions. I decided we'd use his field. It wasn't very wide but it was long. And the long sides ran north and south in the direction of the prevailing winds. When I got back I pinpointed the field giving the map number, longitude and latitude. I included old Pomeran's lions in the phrase for the BBC. When I'd hear it among the personal messages during the French news I'd know the operation would be on for that night. Yes, Felix I, John. Seven containers should be enough. Yes, no moites, his first operation. And his special stores apart from Eureka and Esfo. He has a large number of targets so give him plenty of each year and make it a one-star priority. In the pin-pointing section we selected a Michelin map of the same number Felix was working with in France. Then it was only a matter of a few minutes to find the point, transfer it to a large-scale map of the area and work out the degrees of longitude and latitude. The result was very carefully vetted in consultation with the Air Ministry. There must be no doubt whatsoever as to the position of the field on the map. Was there any flak in the area? Any enemy fighter airfields in the vicinity? Would reception lights be screened by trees? If the point passed these and other tests, the ground could be accepted. An aircraft couldn't be risked on an uncertain mission. Will the containers and packages for Felix I be ready tomorrow night? Felix I? Yes, it's all tied up. Everything depended on the country to which the stores were going. We never knew the exact destination, but usually we had an idea for instructions were put in the containers. These were printed in French, on Norwegian, French, Flemish, even German. We packed brems, stems, plastic explosive, grenades, fuses, tire bursters, incendiaries, clams and limpets. These are boxes of explosive fitted with magnets which would stick to machines or sides of ships. Corned beef, tobacco, cigarettes and chocolate. Wireless sets, as you can imagine, wanted very careful packing, though they were specially made to survive rough handling. We tried to keep up with the growing demand for containers and have a stock of standard packings in hand, but we found it very difficult. Truck lords were rolling out to the airfields day and night. Operations wrong? No, sir, nothing so far. Yes, we'll let you know as soon as we hear ourselves, sir. I wish to have the weather boys to make up their minds. So you should be all right in these areas here, sir. Norway and Denmark, different air. Yes, sir. Cloud on the hills. We'll do all priority operations tonight in Holland, Belgium, central and southern France. None, sir, please. Operations room. Oh, good. Just a minute. Opposite to night through. Thunder. Liner 77. Catch. 16. Beef beer. Felix. One. Pluto 2. Pluto 5. This is London. Here is our eighth bulletin of information during which you will hear a few personal messages. Very important message for Gael's boss. Beware, it's going to rain heavily tonight. Amilcar is driving a Ford. The lions are terrible. In the end, it's over. So what? In the end, it's over. I wanted my first reception to be a success. I may need to get the confidence of the Frenchman I recruited. There was many a slip that might ruin things yet. Clouds were sweeping over the moon. And the navigator had needed all the moonlight possible to pick his way to our field. Our torches weren't up to much either. Just ordinary little pocket lamps with four-volt batteries. I placed a few guards around the field. And I managed to get no truck to take away the containers. We brought some bread and cheese and some wine. And a moonlight picnic helped to pass the time. Some of them were pretty skeptical about the aircraft ever coming at all. Then suddenly, this was the most dangerous moment of the whole reception. The Germans must have had the aircraft passing over and of course they knew that the RAF were dropping agents and supplies all over France. A lone plane usually meant parachuting. I didn't want to be caught with seven containers strewn over the field. And we had to remove all signs of the reception before dawn. Couldn't even bring the truck onto the field because of wheel tracks. And four containers was our maximum load. This little runabout was the only form of transport we could get. It was made in 1912 and was still going strong. And noisily. We were soon on our way and traveling by side roads with a few guards giving some protection. We arrived at a farm belonging to one of the reception committee. He'd built a false wall in his barn to hide his best wine from the Germans. We could only fit three containers in here. He was furious and promised that next time he'd build a real arms depot for us. The next few days were taken up in dispersing the stuff we'd received. Do you remember how after the Blitzes, food stocks were removed from the ports and dispersed all over Britain? It was just the same with us. We couldn't put all our stores in one hiding place. Anyhow, especially after this first reception, I had to distribute widely, if thinly, to all my people. They all considered themselves of priority importance. Sometimes I doled out the stuff to a man who'd been at the reception committee. And sometimes I delivered it myself. As few people as possible knew the wellabouts of our hiding places. I had to take a brand gun to a place about 30 miles away. And I got a forester to take me with a load of wood hiding it. We had a rather rickety old truck, a gazagen burning charcoal and wood chips instead of petrol. It took hours to get going in the morning and it was thoroughly unreliable. But I couldn't refuse any form of transport on four wheels. A nasty moment came when we sighted a control at a crossroads. For my next operation, I used another field with a new reception committee. I tried the Eureka this time and it worked very well. The aircraft fitted with special apparatus, picked up our radar waves 10 minutes before we heard the engines. The navigator had to watch a green line that moved horizontally across a dial. This line shared him at once when he wanted off course. All he had to do was to keep it in the middle. It was a grand feeling seeing the stores dropping to us. It meant we could soon begin our sabotage activity. We knew the Germans had wireless direction finding stations in France. Once they realized an operator was working within a certain area, they sent out small listening vans. This meant the operator had to be continually on the move. Cat hadn't been working in the same room for very long, so perhaps we were a little too confident. Luckily I made an arrangement with a girl who lived in the house opposite to keep a sharp look out when my curtains were drawn. That meant I was transmitting or receiving. So when I'd heard a loud thumping on her piano, the danger signal, I was all prepared to receive those unwelcome visitors. In spite of this now escape, I thought it best to finish off the interrupted message. But from now on, I certainly start working from another house. I had to train new reception committees. And as time went on, I was able to leave the organization of receptions to local groups. And they said we'd listen to the messages during the BBC News. Sometimes we'd hear our message go out to the field and the plane didn't turn up. But I might have lost his way or been shot down. To be able to map read, he had to fly about a thousand feet. So he was vulnerable to light flak as well as the heavy stuff. They were always furious at being kept out all night for nothing. But if I could tell them a day or two after that the aircraft that should have come to us had been shot down, that stopped their grumbling. Transmitting from three separate houses and using them alternately. The Gestapo kept records of all our messages but these weren't of any use to them without our codes. Every operator had a separate code. That's one of the reasons they were so eager to get hold of us. Once they got one of us, they stopped at nothing in order to extract the code. If they succeeded, they'd be able to read all previous messages and they'd start contacting London trying to get the impression that the operator was still free. They might organize Gestapo reception committees and get the RAF to drop supplies or even agents right into their hands. Felix was planning an attack on a railway yard and we were anxiously awaiting approval from London. At last for approval arrived. I handed over the time fuses to the foreman of the engine sheds. Yes, sir? I am the foreman in charge of the chantier. All we railway workers realized what our engines meant to the Germans. On many occasions we tried to sabotage them but it was not until Felix arrived that we discovered the best way. A small charge in the cylinders. The Germans never left us on guard but one can always smuggle things when you want to. I decided it would be best to put the charges in place just before we finished work for the day. The fuse will give us time to get out of the yard before the charges went off. So under the very nose of the Germans, we placed the charges in more than 30 engines. Then we left, just as usual. We waited in cafes and at our homes. We didn't have to wait a long time. Hello, sir. Hello, Mr. Felix. Come in. Thank you. What do you want? I want to see Mrs. Nadine. You want to see Mrs. Nadine Perron? No, it's Mrs. Nadine Ducro, your cousin that I'm looking for. Where have you been from? London, tell me to contact you. Have a drink. Thank you. I haven't got any whiskey, have you? You're an optimist. Whatever you have got, then. It's even getting pretty scarce by home now, so they tell me. I used to know pub in Tottenham Court Road and they had a very good supply. I suppose that's been blitzed by now. Yes, the pub in Tottenham Court Road. All the best. Well, what can I do for you? Can you get a man out of France for me? Through Spain or Switzerland. I've read that's no good. He's been wounded in the leg. Lysander pickup is the only way. Why do you come to me? Evidently, you've got the latest dough. It's not too easy. There aren't many fields around here big enough for an aircraft to land in. Well, will you try? I'll do my best. The pickup in mine. I went along to have a look at it. I didn't feel too happy about receiving an aircraft. A couple of SS battalions had just moved into the local barracks and they were making reconnaissance sorties at night. I don't suppose they were after us, but we might have had some awkward questions to answer if they found a scale of ground of Lysander in the middle of the night. The field was ideal. Surrounded by low-lying woods, perfect surface and well-concealed from the road. But the raft would need exact measurements, so I started walking down one side counting my faces. Ted, have you seen this telegram? Felix wants a Lysander pickup. I was expecting this. I'll send him out a lieutenant on the same operation. He shows grain and he must have help. He sent a promising ground and the Air Ministry are photographing it tomorrow. Oh, good. I was able to use the pilots as a postman. I sent London details of a local factory where parts of a new secret weapon were being stored. I asked them to stop the raft from coming and bombing it. I wanted to have a crack at setting fire to it myself. Both Gustav and Leon were good types. It was always a risk if people came out from London. You never knew what you might get. But I'd met them both during training and felt sure we'd work well together. They were so obviously pleased to find themselves in the field. Gustav's French wasn't too hot, but it would deceive the Germans. Leon had a perfect accent. He'd live for years in Paris and pass as a native with anyone. As usual, the Germans were quick on the uptake and called in the SS battalions. They managed to control the fire before it spread to the other buildings. It's a pity they put out that blasted fire. Cigarette? Thanks. There's nothing like enough damage. We'll have to get the RAF to bomb it. The RAF made a marvelous job of it. Very little damage outside the target area. The French were delighted. I was worried about the crew of the shot-down aircraft, but Gustav soon picked up some news about them. The Germans made out they'd put on the curfew to punish the population for the sabotage activities in the area. But we suspected another reason. You see, the Gestapo had worked for months collecting information about suspects. Then suddenly one night they'd swoop. She should have been here hours ago. Dammit, she knows where to come. Where the hell have you been then? I went to connect George. George? Yes, the pilot who was shot down the other day. Gustav? How are you? Felix. How do you do? Dad, see you. Are you English? Three quarters. Got a Welsh grandmother. Yes, probably. What are you doing in France? Oh, various things. Looking after chaps like you for one? We're not a bit blurred. Pierre's got the rest of the crew. How many are you? Seven counting me. How long? Cat, can you get a message through to London? How? The Gestapo have got my sets and they're always finished. Damn. We've still got the old S-phone hidden away. If only we could get someone to come over from London and have an S-phone conversation. We could explain our whole situation and get instructions. We'll have to get a message to London through our neighbour's organisation. Is that wise? There's no alternative. We've got to get these chaps off our hands as soon as possible. It suits me, but how would you do it? It's for London to decide. They might send an aircraft for you. Well, talk, senseor. Why would you get an aircraft to land over here? It has been done, you know. Well, how would you arrange it? Over the S-phone. What's an S-phone? You asked too many questions. Fair enough. Good stuff. Would you go over to La Roche? You can take the night train. Go to 27 Real Afayette. I'm a bit worried about Felix, sir. We hadn't heard from him for several days. And then this morning there's a message in asking for an S-phone conversation. Any clue? The whole of that area is a bit hot just now, sir. Of course he's done a lot to draw attention to himself lately. That car house that Thierry learned was a big job. That area is absolutely vital. Felix wouldn't ask for an S-phone conversation if it wasn't essential, sir. John, any difficulties on the air, sir? No, that can be fixed. All right. Get it laid on air from tomorrow night, Ted, and go yourself. Back to the S-phone. All right. Lights. So would you handle the Gestapo only a mile away. Felix, go ahead, Felix. What's on your mind? We're in quite a spot. Leon's been killed. Cat Gustav and I are lying low. I see. WT set for Cat. Yes. Go on. Trouble is, we've got a Lancaster crew on our hands. But with things as hot as they are at the moment, I don't like keeping them much longer. How can we get them out? What about the normal channels? No good. Any suggestions, then? Hudson pickup? Can you find a field in time? I'll try. I only knew of one landing ground in the area which would be big enough. I wasn't too confident about this. Fortunately, I had George, the Lancaster pilot, to advise me. The ground being used for the Lysander pickup would be far too small for a heavy aircraft like a Hudson. It had to be a Hudson, of course. Couldn't pack seven passengers into a little Lysander. What do you think? All right. I don't like the fence. Could get the fence moved on the night. 500 exactly. Are you sure that is a fence? No doubt about it. It's a difficult line of approach over those trees, but I think we can manage it. I'll agree. Provided your man can guarantee to move that fence. I'm not sure that Felix himself shouldn't come out on the Hudson. We'll never get a full picture of that area until we hear his own report. Actually, Felix could do with the rest or change of scene. Yes. Then we might tie him in with a new invasion plan. We certainly need the best man we've got for Norm, dear. We'll bring him back and give him the rest. Well, I'll... Clicca, 28. That's almost too good. Couldn't you get an arm vintage? Don't be mean, Felix. Channel number five. He's doing well for himself. Who are they for? Present for the Hudson pilot. What do you want me to bring you back from London? Oh, bring me some more wool. I can't get the right color here. Had to give me a sample then. I'm going to look damn silly going into Swan and Negas tomorrow asking for a knitting wool. Don't worry. If it rains, you won't be anywhere near Swan and Negas tomorrow. Blast the weather. I'm tearing a bit. Don't like it, though. Nor do I. Forget some wind. The field could be as dry as a bone by landing time. Yes, and if we have more rain, it could be as wet as a bog. Take your choice. Perhaps I won't have any choice. Perhaps London will cancel it from their end. Hello. There comes George. Hello. Hello. Any news? They've got my navigator. Picked him up on the street this morning. Damn. The field must be pretty mucky. Yes, we've got to risk it, though. It's only a matter of hours before the Gestapo get the others. Isn't it time for the messages? Yes. Bet you they cancel it. 50 francs? Done. Do you want to listen to personal messages now? The runner loves raisins. Live the sapeurs-pompiers. Rose 36. That's that. Thanks. There's nothing else for it. We'll have to risk it. I agree. I'll go and warn the others. I had a fiendish decision to make. If we had to hang on to the next moon, the whole underground network I'd built up would probably be shattered. Yet I might be guiding the Hudson to trouble. The plane got damaged, we could set fire to it, and the crew had become prisoners, and we'd have to try and shoot our way out. From the point of view of the war effort, the possible loss of a Hudson was surely less important than the almost certain break-up of the organization in this area. I decided to let the Hudson come. Surveil à côté nord. Tois, c'est parti-ci. Et toi, renais, vers route. You two push on the wheel. OK. George, get your crew out. Right. Parisie. Outchaps. Attention! Attention! It's no good! I'll come down. She won't budge. We can't manage it ourselves. You want small men? Try call out the village. Hell of a risk. How many do you want? Get as many as you can. Yes, go on. OK. Thanks a lot. Thank you.