Groups of Nazi soldiers strolled idly through the tiny streets of the little old walled pirate town of St. Malo last week, amiably tested their schoolboy French on the natives. The natives' terror of the German scourge was beginning to give way to frank curiosity; after all, hadn't this been a leave area for the big blond Americans in the last war? Blitzkrieg-weary, everybody relaxed expansively in the warmth of a summer sun.
In the distance, a low rumbling burst into a roar as a climbing pillar of flame shot skywards from the oil tanks on the docks. Incredulously, St. Maloans...
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