CHAPTER 12
Camille heard the plane’s engine, faint but coming closer. An aircraft poked through a fluffy cloud, French flags painted on the wings, smoke trailing behind it. The tail was riddled with holes, the top jagged and broken. It was losing altitude, whining as it dropped from the sky.
A burst of machine-g*n fire came from behind it. A German plane dove from much higher, the body gray with black crosses on the wing and tail. The pilot fired rapidly, bullets running up and down the French aircraft.
Screaming refugees scattered—shouting, cursing, praying—darting in all directions. They hid behind trees and shrubs on the side of the road or lay in a gulley damp from rain. Scared parents covered wailing children, shouts and screams drowning the sound from the plane’s engine. Wagons an
