Franz ran through a day-by-day summary. He kept it as impersonal and undramatic as he could, less through modesty than a desire to see how an objective report, objectively rendered, would strike an objective audience. The Oberst nodded approvingly from time to time, up to the point when Franz said, “We were able to reach the approach to the bridge but their engineers demolished the near piling before we could attempt a crossing.”
“Sieg Heil!” The Oberst made it half a salutation and half a shout of outright glee. “Then by God! Operation Greif did get to the Meuse!”
He put both arms around Franz and, in the same vein of military respect mixed with boyish ebullience, kissed him on both cheeks.
“Wait!” he cried. He went over to the saddlebags of his motorcycle and returned holding aloft a
