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carried no demolition equipment. Would they risk a team of commandos just to see how our construction work is progressing? They can do that from the air.”
    “We have first-class antiaircraft personnel, here, sir. The British know that. They would not dare—”
    “Do not tell me what the British would do. They dare, Colonel. Those commandos came here for a specific mission. They have been coming in all along this coast for weeks now. We capture some, kill some, and we cannot know how many more complete their missions and return home.”
    “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
    Rommel looked at the man, thought, An empty mind, telling me only what I want to hear, so I will leave him in peace. He thought a moment. All right, here’s some peace for you, Colonel. “It occurs to me, Colonel Heckner…perhaps, it was you they were after, an assassination squad, targeting senior officers. Your minefield might have saved your life.”
    The man seemed to soak up his words, pondering the thought with growing alarm. Rommel had planted as much of a seed as his patience would allow, thought, Maybe tonight you will be more vigilant. He turned away, moving toward the staff officers, who waited beside his car. They stiffened as he approached, and he looked past them, saw a cluster of soldiers gathered around the dead commando, could see the man’s black bloody clothes, shreds of rubber on the man’s blasted legs. All eyes were on Rommel now, the men moving slowly to attention. He scanned them. Yes, they look like common laborers. What has happened to my soldiers? He turned and looked back toward Heckner, who stiffened again.
    “I will have your barbed wire here as soon as possible. I want it deployed in depth across every access point at the base of this bluff. I will also send you more land mines, a great many more. Those barricades in the tidal area must be increased, made far more numerous. Take advantage of the lowest tides and add another row, farther out. And, for God’s sake, widen that tank trap. The enemy has engineers, Colonel. They will find a way to bridge your little ditch. Put land mines in the bottom.”
    “It will be done, sir.”
    “It will be done immediately, Colonel.”

    T he staff car bounced along the pockmarked farm lane, past open fields hemmed in by tall ridges of brush. The roads were mostly hard, gravel or packed dirt, and Rommel kept his eye in front of the car, thinking of tanks, the road’s surface more than adequate to support a panzer division. In the front seat, his aide said, “Sir, we are approaching zone fourteen. Colonel Sasser’s headquarters.”
    Rommel thought of Sasser, a small thin man, capable. “Yes, very well. Let us visit Colonel Sasser.”
    “He will probably be out with his men, you know. He does that sort of thing.”
    The voice came from beside him, the tall man in the dark uniform of the German navy. Rommel nodded. “Yes, Friedrich, I know. Sasser is a colonel who uses a shovel. If we had more like him, we might be winning this war.”
    The naval officer did not respond, and Rommel thought of the ears in the front seat, the staff officer, the driver. He glanced at the man beside him, nodded. Yes, I know. I should not make the staff uncomfortable. Some thoughts are best kept quiet. He spoke silently in his mind, apologizing to the man beside him.
    Vice Admiral Friedrich Ruge had been assigned to Rommel’s command as a liaison for the navy, to coordinate naval strategies and activities along the French coast, that vast stretch of territory that Rommel controlled as commander of Army Group B. Both men had come to France from Italy. While Rommel had chafed in the northern mountains with virtually nothing to do, Ruge had been effective as head of naval operations in the one theater of the war that might still favor the Germans. Rommel knew Ruge had spent most of his life on the water and was one of the most capable seamen in the Kriegsmarine. He was three years younger than Rommel,