Unshaven, underfed and frequently drunk; their uniforms didn’t fit and their horse-drawn artillery seemed like a relic from a different age. Germany was only a few hundred kilometres away, but their army seemed to come from another world. The first columns entering Paris were led by motorcycles and sidecars, followed by senior staff sitting in open-topped Kübelwagens4 with swastika flags draped across the bonnet. A soothing French voice came out of a megaphone, urging citizens of Paris to stay calm and stand clear of the troops. Then came infantry. Marching in step, immaculately dressed – from green helmets down to polished boots. Marc stood close enough to the kerb to get a whiff of the superbly groomed horses. Tank tracks left their mark in sunbaked tarmac and polluted the air with a haze of diesel fumes. The German forces seemed to sweat raw power. It was the most impressive thing Marc had ever seen and he was completely awed.
What do You think about Henderson's Boys: The Escape?
