The nineteen huge hay bales were joined with steel cable before being pushed out into the east-flowing currents of the English Channel.
It was a great ruse. A Focke-Wulf pilot did spot them and reported back to headquarters, but their intelligence people suspected nothing.
After all, who’d have thought a few bundles of dry grass would contain a red tractor, enough fuel to reach Paris, a green trailer and eighteen fully armed members of the elite Kentucky Grass-seed combat division.
It all went well until they reached the D10 alongside which lived the friendliest women and the tastiest wines in France.