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[...] Lorne went searching for pigeons' eggs and found two. I cut the top off one and sucked out the contents, but perhaps it was a bit too late in the nesting season because there was a bony sort of consistency about it, and although it was nearly dark Lorne must have seen my face, because he refused to eat his.
This would have been the moment to run for it, except that we could think of no satisfactory answer to the question, 'What do you do when you find yourself in the middle of Leipzig, in RAF uniform, on a summer afternoon, with no money, no papers and no food?'