The moment I hop in the back, the truck takes off. There are four or five other guys seated on the benches, and nobody says a word. mainly because they are too busy hanging on while the driver barrels down twisting backstreets, doing fifty or better. I hear the guy seated next to me mutter, … Continue reading March 26, 1944: Pyrenees Foothills: AVOID border Spanish-might sell us to Gestapo