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Tours for two or three days, Carl and I decided: “Now the thing to do is to go back to Paris and photograph the Germans coming in.” You have to admit that's pretty loony idea. But Carl, my bodyguard Max, and I took off in the Auburn heading North to Paris. Of course, everything was still streaming South. It was very hard and very slow progress. And by nightfall we'd gotten to a village about twelve miles south of Paris, and you couldn't proceed because you couldn't use lights. And we were stopping in this village and saying to the lady: “Where's a nice, quiet place where we can spend the night before we go on to Paris the next day?.” And she said: “Oh, take the next turn up and there's a plateau up there, a field there, and you'd have a quiet night.” So we turned; sure enough, there was a field. We had sleeping bags, and we got into our sleeping bags and into the car and went happily to sleep, only to be woken up by a dog barking. I moved to see what it was and something hard was poking at my head. And it turned out the Garde Civile--that's people from World War I patrolling the countryside--had been told by this lady about these people--by somebody--and apparently had decided that we were either parachuters, though how you parachuted the Auburn was sort of a question [laughter]. Anyway, we were told: “Hands up! Get out of the Car!” It's very difficult to get out of a car with your hands up when you're in a sleeping bag [laughter]. And they took us down to the village, and they locked the three of us up in a dark room, and then we listened to them in the next room, with Carl saying all the time: “Tell me what they're saying"--Carl didn't speak French--"Translate! Translate!” Well, they were discussing whether to shoot us now or to send us over to some other place.