Suddenly and unexpectedly it was there. He saw it clearly, right over the windmill by the canal. It was a juge craft that seemed to be totally helpless. Its fuselage glowed in a reddish colour, as if there were a fire inside, and its one engine left a long trail of thick black smoke. Berth felthis hear pound in his chest. "O Lord", he said softly, "please let the men jump out. Please!" But nothing happend. The plane continued it course, slowly and hesitantly. Now the Germans had discovered it too, and they began firing at it with machine guns from their positions around the polder. Bert stood there with his fists clenched. That plane was going to crash somewhere. Maybe on the village or even on the nearby town. It would not only kill the crew but many citizans as well. Suddenly as he narrowed his eyes to see betterm he saw saw something fall our of the plane. "Parachute! Parachute!" he yelled, but there was nobody to hear him.
