"Good Grief, a German!"
Freddy Farmer's whispered exclamation served to jerk Dave out of his stunned trance. He blinked and swallowed hard and tried to stop the pounding of his heart.
"Hey, there, we're lost!" he suddenly called out. "Where are we anyway?"
The advancing German soldier pulled up short and stopped. He stuck his head forward and stared hard. There was a sharp exclamation behind him and then a second figure came into the light. The second figure was a German infantry officer. He kept one hand on his holstered Luger automatic and came up to Dave and Freddy.
"You are English?" he asked in a heavy nasal voice. "What are you doing here? Ah, an ambulance, eh? So, you are trying to sneak back through our advanced lines? It is good that I have found you just in time. Keep your hands up, both of you! I will see if you have guns,yes!"
"We're not armed, Captain!" Dave exclaimed. "We're not soldiers. We're just lost."
"I am not a captain, I am a lieutenant!" the German snapped and searched Dave for a gun. "You will address me as such. Not soldiers, you tell me? Then, why this ambulance? And why are you here?"
"As you were just told," Freddy Farmer spoke up in a calm voice, "because we are lost. Now, if you will be good enough to tell us the way to Courtrai we will be off."
The German officer snapped his head around.
"Ah, soyouare English, yes?" he demanded.
"And proud of it!" Freddy said stiffly. "And this chap, if you must know, is an American friend of mine. Now, will you tell us the way to Courtrai?"
The German said nothing for a moment or two. There was a look of disappointment on his sharp featured face. It was as though he was very sad he had not found a pistol or an automatic on either of them. He moved back a step and stood straddle legged with his bunched fists resting on his hips.
"American and English?" he finally muttered. "This is all very strange, very unusual. You say you don't know where you are?"
"That's right, Lieutenant," Dave said andchoked back a hot retort. "Where are we anyway? And what are you doing here? My gosh! Is this Germany?"
The German smiled and showed ugly teeth.
"It is now," he said. "But that is all you need to know. I think you have lied to me. Yes, I am sure of it. I will take you to theKommandant. He will get you to talk, I'm sure.Himmel!Our enemies send out little boys to spy on us! The grown men must be too afraid. But, you cannot fool us with your tricks!"
"Tricks, nothing!" Dave blurted out in a burst of anger. "We told you the truth. I was on my way to join my father in London...."
"Don't waste your breath, Dave," Freddy Farmer said quietly. "I'm sure he wouldn't understand, anyway."
"Silence, you Englisher!" the German snarled and whirled on the boy. "You will make no slurs at a German officer. Come! We will go to see theKommandantat once!"
"We'd better do as he orders, Freddy," Dave said swiftly. "After we've told our story to his commanding officer they'll let us go. They can't keep us very long. If they do, I'll appeal to the nearest American Consul. He'll straighten things out for us."
"So?" the German muttered and gave Dave a piercing look. "Well, we shall see. If you arespies it will go very hard with you, yes. Now, march back to the car in front of me."
The officer half turned his head and snapped something at the soldier who had been standing in back of him. The soldier immediately sprang into action. He hurried past and climbed into the front seat of the ambulance. Dave impulsively took hold of Freddy's arm again.
"Don't worry, Freddy!" he whispered. "Everything, will come out all right. You wait and see. Don't let these fellows even guess that we're worried."
"What's that?" the German suddenly thundered. "What's that you are saying to him?"
The officer had half drawn his Luger and the movement chilled Dave's heart. He forced himself, though, to look the German straight in the eye.
"I was simply telling him the American Consul would fix things up for us," he said evenly.
The German snorted.
"Perhaps," he growled. "We shall see."
Walking straight with their heads up and their shoulders back, the two boys permitted themselves to be herded back to the car. When they passed beyond the glow of the headlights they were plunged into darkness and for a moment Dave could see nothing. Then his eyes became used to the change and he saw that thecar was a combination car and truck. It was actually an armored troop transport. Steel sheets protected the back and the driver's seat, and instead of heavy duty tires on the rear wheels there were tractor treads instead so that the army vehicle could travel across country and through mud as well as along a paved road.
In the back were some fifteen or twenty German soldiers each armed with a small machine gun and completely fitted out for scouting work. They peered down at Dave and Freddy as the officer motioned them to get into the transport, but none of them spoke. They either did not understand English, or else they were too afraid of the officer to speak. And so Dave and Freddy climbed aboard in silence and sank down on the hard plank that served as a seat. The officer got in beside the driver and growled a short order.
The engine roared up, gears clanked and crashed, and the transport lunged forward. It traveled a few yards and swung off the road and around in the direction from which it had obviously come. That direction was to the east, and that caused Dave to swallow hard and press his knee against Freddy's. The pressure that was returned told him that the English boy had a good hold on himself, and wasn't going to do anything foolish.
Glad of that, Dave stared ahead over the shoulder of the driver at the road. At various points the pavement had been torn up by a bomb or by a shell and the transport's driver was forced to detour around such spots. Presently, wrecked ammunition wagons, and light field artillery pieces were to be seen, strewn along the side of the road. They were all smashed almost beyond recognition, and close by them were the death stilled figures of Belgian soldiers, and refugees who had been unable to escape the swiftly advancing German hordes.
Suddenly the sound of airplane engines lifted Dave's eyes up to the skies. He could not see the planes, they were too high. However the pulsating beat of the engines told him they were Hitler's night bombers out on patrol. Impulsively he clenched his two fists and wished very much he was up there in a swift, deadly pursuit or fighter plane. He had taken flying lessons back home, and had even made his first solo. But he had not been granted his private pilot's license yet because of his age.
"But I'd like to be up there in a Curtis P-Forty!" he spoke aloud. "I bet I could do something, or at least try!"
His words stiffened Freddy Farmer at his side. The English boy leaned close.
"Are you a pilot, Dave?" he whispered. "Doyou fly?"
"Some," Dave said. "I've gone solo, anyway. I hope some day to get accepted for the Army Air Corps. I think flying is the best thing yet. There's nothing like it. Hear those planes up there? Boy!"
"They're German," Freddy said. "Heinkel bombers, I think. Or perhaps they are Dorniers, I can't tell by the sound. I'm crazy about flying, too. I joined an aero club back in England. I've got a few hours solo to my credit. When war broke out I tried to enlist in the Royal Air Force, but they found out about my age and it was no go, worse luck. But, some day I'm going to wear R.A.F. wings. At least, I hope and pray so. I...."
"Silence!" the German officer's harsh voice grated against their eardrums once more. "You will not speak!"
"A rum chap, isn't he?" Freddy breathed out the corner of his mouth.
"Sure thinks he's a big shot," Dave breathed.
And then as the transport continued to rumble and roll eastward Nature took charge of things as far as the boys were concerned. Strong and healthy though they were, they had been through a lot since dawn. It had been more than enough to wear down a full grown man. And soon they fell sound asleep.
The rasping and clanging of gears and the shouting of voices in German eventually dragged Dave out of his sound slumber. It was still dark but he could see the first faint light of a new dawn low down in the east. The motorized transport had come to a stop in the center of a small village. Dave could see that here, too, shells and bombs had been at work, but lots of the buildings remained untouched. There were German soldiers in all kinds of uniforms all over the place. A hand was slapped against his shoulder and he looked up to stare into the small bright eyes of the German lieutenant.
"Wake up your friend!" the German snapped, "We are here. Get out, both of you!"
"Where are we?" Dave asked and gently shook Freddy Farmer who was fast asleep on his shoulder. "What town is this, Lieutenant?"
The German smiled slyly. Then annoyance flashed through his eyes. He whipped out a hand and took a steel grip on Freddy's shoulder and shook viciously.
"Wake up, Englander!" he barked. "You have had enough sleep for the present. Wake up, I say!"
A smart slap across the cheek emphasized the last. The English lad woke up instantly, and he would have lunged out with a clenched fist if Dave had not caught hold of his arm.
"Take it easy, Freddy!" he exclaimed. "This is the end of the line. Here's where we get off. How do you feel?"
Freddy shook his head and dug knuckles into his sleep filled eyes. That seemed to do the trick. He was fully awake in an instant.
"Oh yes, I remember, now," he said. "Where are we, though? What's this place?"
The German threw back his head and laughed.
"I will tell you," he said and waggled a finger in front of their faces. "This is the Headquarters of the German Army Intelligence in the field. I am taking you before theKommandant. And now we shall learn all about you two. Yes, you will be very wise to answer truthfully all the questionsHerr Kommandantasks."
With a curt nod to show that he meant what he said the German climbed down onto the street, and then motioned for Dave and Freddy to climb down, too.
"That building, there," he said and pointed. "March! And do not be so foolish as to try and run away. I warn you!"
Dave and Freddy simply shrugged and walked across the street to the doorway of a solidly built stone building. A guard standing in front clicked his heels and held his rifle at salute at the approach of the officer.
"My compliments toHerr Kommandant," the officer said sharply. "LeutnantMueller reporting with two prisoners for questioning."
The guard saluted again, then executed a smart about face and went in through the door. Dave caught a flash glimpse of desks, and chairs, and the part of a wall covered by a huge map, before the door was closed in his face. He looked at Freddy and grinned, and then glanced up into the small eyes of the German officer. Those small eyes seemed to bore right back into his brain.
"You will do well to tell the whole truth!" the German said without hardly moving his lips. "Remember that!"
At that moment the door was reopened and the guard was nodding at the lieutenant.
"Herr Kommandantwill see you at once,Herr Leutnant," he said.
"Good!" the officer grunted, and pushed Dave and Freddy in the back. "Inside, at once!"
The first thing Dave saw as the Lieutenant pushed him through the open doorway was a desk bigger than any other desk he had ever seen. It was a good nine feet long and at least five feet wide. It took up almost one whole side of the room and upon it were piled books, official papers, a couple of portable short-wave radio sets, and at least a dozen telephones. And seated at the desk was a huge red faced, bull necked German in the uniform of a staff colonel.
"My prisoners,Herr KommandantStohl," the Lieutenant said. "Heil Hitler!"
The big German Colonel lifted his gaze from some papers in front of him, looked at Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer and started violently. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in amazement. He got control of himself almost instantly and whipped his eyes to the Lieutenant's face.
"Is this a joke,Herr Leutnant?" he demanded in a booming voice that shook the thick walls of the room. "What is the charge against these two peasant urchins? Look, the clothes of that one, there, are in rags!"
The high ranking officer lifted a finger the size of a banana and jabbed it at Dave. The lieutenant flushed and made gurgling sounds in his throat.
"They are not urchins, not peasants,Herr Kommandant," he explained hastily. "This one of the brown hair claims he is an American. And this one of the light hair is an Englisher. I caught them trying to sneak past our advance units with an ambulance. They stated that they were lost, and wanted to know the way to Courtrai. When I caught them they were a good forty miles southeast of that city. I did not believe their stories so I escorted them here at once."
"And the ambulance?" the German asked slowly. "There were wounded soldiers in it, perhaps?"
"No,Herr Kommandant," the Lieutenant said with a shake of his head. "There was nothing. It was completely empty. It has never been used. That, also, added to my suspicions of these two. I shall give it a better examination at your orders, sir."
"Do so at once, now," the senior officer said and made a wave of dismissal with one hand.
"At once,Herr Kommandant," the Lieutenant said in a magpie voice. "Heil Hitler!"
The German Colonel waited until he had left, then focussed his eyes on Dave and Freddy, and smiled faintly.
"And now, boys," he said in a kindly voice, "what is all this about? How did you happen to get so far behind our lines?"
"We told the lieutenant the truth, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up. "I was lost. It was all my fault. I had no idea where I was. You have no right to hold us as prisoners. We have done nothing except get lost, and it was all my fault."
The German's smile broadened and his shoulders shook.
"So, I have no right, eh?" he chuckled. "You are not in your England now, my boy. But suppose you tell me all about it?"
"Very well, sir," Freddy said in a quiet dignified voice. "And you can take my word for its being the truth, too."
The English youth paused a moment and then told the story of leaving the Paris headquarters of the British Volunteer Ambulance Service, becoming separated from the others, and after many hours picking up Dave Dawson.
"And so there you are, sir," he finished up. "A very unfortunate incident, but I've already told you it was my fault."
The big German, shrugged, started to speak but checked himself and swiveled around in his chair to peer at the well marked map that took up most of the wall in back of him. Presently he turned front again and fixed his eyes on Dave.
"And you?" he grunted. "Where were you forced to leave your car? And where is this French Army lieutenant your friend mentioned?"
"I don't know where he is," Dave said. "When the German planes started shooting and bombing those refugees I...."
"One moment!" the Colonel grated harshly. "Our pilots do not shoot or bomb helpless civilians. Those were undoubtedly French planes, or British ones, made to look like German planes. Go on."
Anger rose up in Dave Dawson. He had seen those planes with his own eyes. And he knew enough about foreign planes to know that they were neither French nor British. They were German, and there were no two ways about that. He opened his mouth to hurl the lie back in the German's face, but suddenly thought better of it.
"The spot was about seventy miles north of Paris, I think," he said. "I know that a few minutes before, we had passed through a small village named Roye. And I remember looking at my watch. It was a little after one this afternoon."
"I see," murmured the German, and an odd look seeped into his eyes. "And when you awoke it was night? You saw the ambulance of this English boy's, and he picked you up?"
"That's right, sir," Dave said with a nod.
"And so?" the German said in the same murmuring tone. "So from a little after one this afternoon until your friend picked you up you traveled over thirty miles ...while unconscious? You expect me to believe that?"
"I'm not telling a lie!" Dave said hotly. "You can believe what you darn well like. It's still the truth, just the same. I don't know how I got there. Maybe some passing car picked me up, and then dumped me out thinking that I was dead. Maybe somebody took me along to rob me because of my American clothes. They might have thought I had some money, and...."
Dave slopped short at the sudden thought and started searching the pockets of his torn clothes. All he could find was a handkerchief, a broken pencil, and a bent American Lincoln penny that he carried as a lucky piece. Everything else was gone. His wallet, his money, his passport ... everything. He looked at the Colonel in angry triumph.
"That's what happened!" he cried. "Somebody picked me up and robbed me, and then left me in that field under the trees. Good gosh! I'm broke, and I'll need money to get to England. I...."
Dave stopped short again as he saw the smile on the Colonel's face. This time it was a different kind of smile. There was nothing pleasant or fatherly about it. It was a cold, tight lipped smile, and Dave shivered a bit in spite of himself.
"You are not going to England ... yet!" the German said slowly. "There is something very funny about all this, and I mean to find out what it is. Yes, it is rather strange, I think."
"For cat's sake, why?" Dave blurted out. "We simply got lost in the dark, and that's all there is to it!"
"Exactly!" Freddy Farmer spoke up. "It is the truth. We are not even old enough to be soldiers ... unfortunately."
The German officer scowled so that his heavy black brows formed a solid line across the lower part of his forehead.
"Your sharp tongue may get you into more trouble than you think, my little Englisher!" he growled. "You had best take care. Now, we will ask some more questions. You both left Paris this morning, eh? You saw troops and tanksand things on the march?"
"Millions of them!" Freddy Farmer said quickly. "And airplanes, too. I never saw so many soldiers, or so much military equipment."
"So?" the German breathed. "You saw which way they were heading, of course?"
"Naturally," Freddy said. "They were going into Belgium, of course. And not just French troops with tanks and guns, either. There were thousands of British and Canadians. And there were more thousands from Australia and New Zealand, and South Africa. And the sky was filled with R.A.F. and French planes. And...."
The German's booming laughter stopped Freddy. The big man shook like jelly and he was forced to blow his nose before he could speak.
"I must say I admire you, my young Englander," he said. "I suppose now we should become very frightened and order a general retreat at once, eh?"
"You will be forced to, shortly," Freddy said stiffly.
The laughter faded from the German's face and his eyes became brittle and hard.
"Germans never hear such an order, for it is never given!" he snapped. "But, I see you want to treat this all as a little joke, eh?"
"Do you expect us to give away military information?" Dave demanded.
"It would help you a lot, boys," the officer said slyly. "You two want to get to England, don't you?"
"Not that way, we don't!" Dave said, standing up to him. "You'll get no military information out of either of us, even if we had any to give."
"Good for you, Dave!" Freddy said in a low voice. "He can't make dirty traitors out of us."
Heads up and shoulders back the two of them stared defiantly at the officer. He glared back at them for a moment and then as quick as the blink of an eye his big face broke out all smiles.
"Good, good, boys!" he cried. "I like you all the more for refusing. I wouldn't tell anything either if I should happen to be captured. All right, we will speak no more about that. But, I must make out a report. Give me your names, and addresses. I will send word through the Red Cross to your families so they will know where you are."
"But I live in America!" Dave cried. "I'm on a trip with my father. He's in London, as I told you, but I don't know where!"
"What is his name?" the officer said and picked up a pencil. "I will have word sent to the hotel where you stopped in Paris. It will be forwarded to him wherever he is. Well?"
Dave hesitated a moment, then decided there wasn't anything else to be done about it.
"Mr. Richard C. Dawson," he said. "My name is David. Hotel de Ney, Twenty-One Rue Passey, Paris. But, wait! He went to see the American Ambassador in London. You can send word there."
That bit of information seemed to startle the German. He gave Dave a long piercing look, then nodded and scribbled on a piece of paper in front of him. In a minute he glanced up at Freddy.
"And you, Englisher?" he grunted.
"My name is Frederick Covington Farmer," Freddy said. "I live at Sixty-Four Baker Street, London, England. But, see here, sir! You don't really intend to keep us prisoners, do you? I mean, after all, you know!"
The officer laughed and shook his head.
"Keep you prisoners?" he echoed. "Of course not. But I can't very well let you go until I get proof who you are, now can I? In a very short time I shall learn if you've told me the truth. And then, if you have, I will have you put in a car and passed through the Belgian lines. Just as simple as that, see?"
"We have told you the truth," Freddy said grimly.
"You bet we have!" Dave said.
"Then there is nothing for you to worry about," the big German chuckled. "And now, you must be hungry, eh? Well, I shall at once see that you are taken care of and given something to eat."
The German reached out one of his big hands and jabbed a desk button with a thick finger. As though by magic a side door swung open and a German soldier with a Staff Orderly's arm band about his tunic sleeve popped into the room. The officer fired words at him so fast that Dave couldn't catch a single one of them. The orderly saluted and then motioned for Dave and Freddy to walk out ahead of him. When he had closed the door he pointed toward a flight of stairs, and then up. He stopped them on the second landing, pushed open a door and waved them inside. There were two army cots with a blanket for each, a couple of broken chairs, and nothing else. A single window was at the rear of the room and its sill was a good five feet up from the floor. It was thick with dust and cobwebs and looked as if it hadn't been opened in years.
The two boys glanced at the room in dismay. Then the click of the door latch, and the grating sound of a bolt being shot home, spun them both around. Dave leaped for the door and graspedhold of the knob. It turned in his hand, but the door refused to open. He gulped and glanced back at Freddy. The English youth's face had paled a bit, but his eyes were grimly defiant.
"Keep the old chin up, Freddy," said Dave. "They can't do anything to us. They wouldn't dare! Don't let it get you, fellow."
Freddy lifted his face and smiled wryly. There was the faintest suggestion of tears in his eyes.
"I'm not afraid of them!" he said scornfully. "I'm mad at myself. I could kick me all around this room. Through my own stupidity I've gone and lost our boys a perfectly good ambulance. That's what I can't get over. I could chew nails when I think of it falling into the hands of the blasted Germans. I'm just no good, Dave."
Dave laughed and doubled up a fist and put it under the other's chin.
"Hey, none of that!" he cried. "You're my pal, and I don't let people say crazy things about my pals. Gee whiz, you were swell downstairs, Freddy. You talked right up to him when I was all the time quaking in my boots. You bet! Don't worry about that ambulance. Maybewe'll get it back. Heck! Maybe we can figure out some way to steal it back."
Bright hope flickered in the English youth's eyes.
"You think so, Dave?" he whispered. "You think there's a chance we might steal it away from them?"
"We can sure try," Dave replied with a vigorous nod. "You just keep everything under control, and.... Sh-h-h! I think somebody's coming up the stairs. Come on, Freddy! Let's not let them get the idea we're worried at all."
"Right-o!" Freddy whispered back and gave Dave's hand a quick squeeze. "Count on me to hold up my end, Dave!"
Footsteps were now just outside the door. They heard the outside bolt slap back and then the door was pushed open. The German guard stood in the hallway outside. In one hand he carried a battered tray containing food, and tucked under the other arm was a bundle of old clothes. Just behind him stood Colonel Stohl. The big German's face was beaming like a full moon.
"Did you think I had forgotten you, boys?" he boomed and strode into the room. "But of course not. Here is food for you. And take off your clothes and put on these things. I will have what you're wearing mended and cleaned up.So!"
"That's very kind of you, Colonel," Freddy said in a faintly mocking tone. "You're going to be frightfully disappointed, you know."
"Disappointed?" the German officer mumbled and gave him a puzzled look.
"Quite so," Freddy said and started peeling off his dust and dirt caked clothes. "I can assure you you'll find no secret messages or maps sewed into the lining. No matter what you suspect, we really aren't spies, you know."
The German laughed loudly but there was a look in his eye that did not mean laughter to Dave. The Intelligence officer didn't like the idea of a sixteen year old English boy seeing right through him as though he were made of glass.
"Why that's ridiculous!" the Colonel cried. "Of course you aren't spies. I just want to have your clothes cleaned. We Germans take good care of the people we have to protect. You will do well to think of that when you return to your homelands. Now, get into these clean clothes and then eat your food. There, that is better, yes!"
The officer waited until the guard had gathered up the boys' clothes, then he smiled at them and went out the door followed by the guard. Dave and Freddy waited until the boltwas jammed home and then, being half starved, they fell upon the tray of food. The very first mouthful was a delightful surprise to them both. The food was excellent and there was a lot of it. They wolfed it down for a moment or so and then Dave put a restraining hand on Freddy's.
"Wait a minute!" he said in a low voice. "I think this is another part of the trick he thinks he's playing on us."
"What do you mean?" Freddy whispered and stopped eating at once. "Good grief! You think there is something in this food? I once heard a story about the Germans using some kind of a drug that makes a prisoner talk. But I'm starved, Dave!"
"Me, too," Dave nodded. "I don't mean that. I'm sure the food's okay. That's the point. It's swell! I bet the troops don't get this kind of food. Look, Freddy! I've got a hunch he wants to make a hit with us. Feed us up good and then get us to talk about the French and British military units we saw yesterday. You know, they're always after information that will give them a line on what's in front of them."
"Then he is a fool, if he thinks filling my stomach with good food will make me tell him anything!" Freddy snorted in disgust.
"Check and double check for both of us!" Dave agreed. "But here's what I mean. I thinkwe'd be wise not to eat all of this. Let's save some. This bread, at least. We might need it later, and bad."
"You're right, Dave!" Freddy said, realizing instantly what his American friend had in mind. "When we do escape from here we'll certainly need some food to take along. And I think that's what we'll have to do ... escape somehow."
Dave nodded but didn't speak. There was a queer feeling inside of him, and the back of his neck was beginning to tingle a little. That was a sure sign with him that there was trouble ahead. And it had proven to be true more than a couple of times during his young life. No, the German colonel wasn't fooling him at all. Perhaps they puzzled the Intelligence officer, but Dave felt pretty sure he didn't really believe they were spies. Yet, you never could tell. One thing seemed certain, however. The German hoped to pump them for what little they could tell him. He was going to keep them prisoners until he was satisfied. And perhaps he would keep them prisoners even after that. This thing worked two ways. Would the Intelligence officer let them pass safely through the Belgian lines knowing full well they'd tell the authorities what they'd seen on the German side?
No, that wasn't at all likely, and Dave suddenly didn't feel very hungry. He got up andwalked over to the rear window. The sill came only to his chin for he was close to six feet tall, so he could see out without any trouble. That is, after he had wiped away some of the dust and cobwebs. What he saw, however, brought no joy to his heart. The window looked out on a tree studded hill that blocked out everything beyond. Another fine day was well on its way and as Dave screwed his head around so that he could look high up into the blue sky he saw cluster after cluster of planes in line and in V formation. And all of them were moving swiftly westward. By straining his ears he could just barely catch the throbbing beat of German engines. Even as their sound came to him he heard louder and more thunderous sounds farther to the west. He did not need two guesses to know that German bombers were once again dropping their loads of death and destruction upon the soldiers and civilians of the countries Adolf Hitler desired to crush under his iron heel.
He turned from the window and stood staring flint eyed at nothing at all. Yesterday he had reached seventeen years of age. But today? Today he somehow felt a dozen years older than that. What he had seen since leaving Paris had added years to his way of thinking, if not to his body. A fierce anger at the injustices wrought had sprung up within him. He wanted to dosomething about it. What, he did not know. But today there had been born in him a blazing desire to do what he could to spare Europe, and perhaps the whole world, from the bullets and bombs and the tyranny of the Nazi legions.
"What are you thinking of, Dave?"
Freddy's quiet voice at his elbow jerked him from his thought trance. He turned and stared into the clear blue eyes of his new found friend and ally in the face of danger.
"A lot of things, Freddy," he said. "Maybe I'm crazy, but I want nothing better than the chance to do something. A chance to get back at these Germans for what I've seen them do. We may be kids and not old enough to enlist, Freddy, but there must besomethingwe can do to help. And, believe me, I sure want to do it. Listen, Freddy, have you any idea where we are? I've never been in Belgium in my life. And I guess this is still Belgium, isn't it?"
"Yes, I could tell from the looks of the buildings, and some of the townsfolk I saw when we arrived," the English youth said. "But what town this is, I haven't the faintest idea. I ... Wait!"
"What's the matter?" Dave asked.
"That map in the colonel's office downstairs!" Freddy whispered excitedly. "Did you see it, and see how it was marked with those little pinsand tiny flags?"
"Sure, I saw it," Dave said with a nod. "But I didn't pay much attention to it."
"Nor I," Freddy said. "But I'll bet you something, Dave. This is an Intelligence headquarters, and I'll bet those little pins and flags mark the points of advance by the German forces. Do you see what I mean, Dave? If we could get a good look at that map, and remember some of the things it tells, and then get away from here, why...."
The English youth stopped. He was shaking too much from eager excitement to continue. Dave nodded and gripped him by both arms.
"You're right, Freddy!" he whispered. "It might help a lot if we could tell the Allied commanders where some of the German units are, and what places they seem to be heading for. Let me think. How in heck can we get another look at that map?"
"We could pound on the door," Freddy said, "and tell him we're willing to tell all that we know, if he'll let us go. He'd probably take us down to his office to hear what we have to say."
"Maybe," Dave said with a frown. "But I think it's a little too soon to make him think we're scared and giving in. And, besides, he may not be tricking us. Maybe he really is going to just check on us and then let us go."
"Let us go back and tell what we've seen behind the German lines?" Freddy scoffed. "Not a bit of it, Dave. You must be off your topper!"
"Yeah, I'd thought of that, myself," Dave said sadly. "It's a cinch he's not going to let us go no matter what he thinks about us. Well, the way I see it there's only one thing we can do. We can't try an escape now in broad daylight, so we've got to wait. Let's put on these clothes and catch up on some sleep. The only thing we can do is wait for awhile. Wait to see if he makes any move."
"I hate waiting," Freddy said and started pulling on the old clothes the guard had brought with their breakfast. "But of course you're right, Dave. There's nothing else we can do, right now."
"But plenty later on!" Dave said determinedly and flung himself down on one of the cots. "You wait and see, Freddy. It's a promise!"
Later that afternoon, the Colonel did make the next move. A guard came up to the boys' cell, woke them from a deep sleep and ushered them down to the Colonel's office.
"Sit down, boys," he said and circled around to in back of his huge desk. "I want to have a talk with you."
Dave and Freddy exchanged quick looks,then sat down as ordered.
"Now," the Colonel said and clasped his big hands together on the edge of his desk. "Our Leader is a man of peace. Helovespeace, and would gladly give his life for peace among nations. You, my little Englisher! Did the Fuehrer declare war on your country, or on France? No! They declared war on him, on Germany. Listen to me! Don't you want peace?"
"Certainly,"' Freddy replied. Then he added, "At the right time."
"No, peace as soon as possible," the German said. "Now is the best time. Before there is more bloodshed. You two boys can help bring this war to an early end. You will be doing a favor to Germany's foes. Now, why not be good boys and tell me the truth? Then everything will be fine."
Neither of the boys said a word. As for Dave, it all sounded as though he were listening to a broken phonograph record. "Tell me the truth.... Tell me the truth.... Tell me the truth!" It was like the title of a song. He sat silent and kept his eyes fixed on the huge map on the wall. He stared at it hard and tried to memorize the dates he could read there, and the names of the towns and cities, and the locations of the pins and flags. One town on the map was well smudged by finger and thumb marks. It wasnamed Estalle and was close to the Belgian-German frontier. He suddenly had a hunch that that was where they were. At Estalle, close to the German frontier, but how far behind the advanced German lines? He thought of the long ride in the motored transport last night and his heart sank down toward his boots.
"Well, for the last time!" the German Colonel suddenly thundered. "Do you tell me the truth?"
"For Heaven's sakes, we already have!" Freddy shouted at him. "We've told you nothing but the truth a dozen times. What must we do to get you to believe us?"
The German didn't answer at once. He slammed both hands down flat on the desk, hoisted his huge bulk forward, and glared at them.
"Very well," he said. "I have tried to be gentle and kind with you, because you are only young boys. But, you refuse my kindness. So, I shall treat you as grown men. I shall have you bothshot!"
If the roof had suddenly fallen down on top of his head Dave Dawson could have not been more astonished or surprised. Shot? He gaped at the German officer half expecting to see the man burst out laughing. Colonel Stohl did not laugh, however. He remained leaning forward over the desk and raking them with eyes that looked like twin cubes of ice.
"Shot?" Dave heard himself speak the word. "You can't shoot us. We haven't done anything! Gee whiz, why do you want to shoot us?"
"Of course we haven't done anything!" Freddy Farmer spoke up loudly. "I think this is all just a bluff!"
"A bluff?" the German snarled. "Do you take me for a fool? I do not bluff at a time like this. Take a look at this that I hold in my hand, so! Ah, you recognize it, eh?"
The officer had suddenly whipped up something off the desk. Dave took a good look and saw that it was a rolled up map.
"It's a map," he said, "but I never saw it before."
"Nor have I," Freddy said stoutly.
"It was found hidden under the seat of the ambulance," the German said in a flat voice that made Dave shiver inwardly. "There are certain marks on it. Numbers and figures written in pencil near the names of towns you passed through before you were caught. So you told me the truth, eh? No, you lied. This map contains information that would be very useful to Germany's enemies. You thought you could protect yourselves by driving an ambulance ... but you can't. But ... and listen to what I say ... youcansave your lives!"
Dave tried to speak but his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth. He felt his knees go weak, and it was all he could do to force himself to stand upright. He had the feeling that this was all a crazy dream, a nightmare. In a few moments he would probably wake up and find himself safe and sound in bed in his room at the Hotel de Ney. He didn't know anything about a map. He'd never even seen it before.
He half turned and looked at Freddy Farmer. The English youth's face was a little paler, but his chin was firm, and his eyes were filled with scornful defiance.
"I haven't any idea what you are talkingabout, sir," Freddy said to the colonel. "I was not trying to protect myself, or my friend, from anything. I was simply delivering the ambulance to Courtrai. And, for the hundredth time,I lost my way!"
The German made a movement with his hand as though brushing the words to one side.
"Enough of that!" he said. "This is a serious business. I am not saying that you collected the information about our advance units I find here on this map. Perhaps you were only taking it to somebody else. Yes, perhaps you did not even know you were being used for such work. Let us say that is the truth. We Germans do not make war with boys, but.... But this informationwas found on you, and that is most serious. Answer the questions I ask you, and I promise that you will not be treated as spies. I also promise you that you will be made comfortable until arrangements can be made to send you home. Now!"
"What are the questions?" Freddy asked.
The stern look fled the German's face, and he smiled.
"Ah, that is better!" he said and spread the map on the desk. "Now, here you have marked a line showing the route you traveled from Paris. Each town you passed through is marked. Those towns are French troop and equipmentgarrisons. This town here, close to the Belgian border, what did you see there? French troops? British troops? And what was their equipment? Tanks? Big ones, or small ones? Were there motorized anti-aircraft batteries? Were...?"
The German suddenly stopped and looked up from the map.
"You are not listening?" he said softly.
Freddy's face seemed actually to grow thin as Dave looked at him. The English boy licked his lips just once and then put his shoulders back a little more.
"Certainly I'm listening," he said. "But I won't answer a single one of your questions even though you do shoot me!"
Dave felt like throwing his arms about young Farmer and hugging him. Here was the kind of cool, calm courage for which the British were famous the world over. Instead, Dave turned his head and looked at the German.
"We're not saying a thing!" he shouted. "I demand that we be permitted to see the nearest American Consul!"
The German officer ignored Dave's outburst as though he had not spoken. He looked steadily at Freddy for a moment and then sighed heavily and raised both hands in a gesture of despair.
"Very well," he said. "That is all for now. I will give you until tomorrow morning to thinkit over ... and change your mind. Guard!"
The side door popped open and in popped the guard. Colonel Stohl pointed a finger.
"Take them back," he said, "and stand guard outside the door. If either of them attempts to escape ...shoot!"
The Colonel gave them an angry stare and a curt nod, and then busied himself with some papers on the desk. Two minutes later the boys were back in their prison room. The door was closed and bolted, and they could hear the boots of the guard pacing up and down the hallway outside. Freddy sat down on a cot and started to shiver violently. Dave went over to him instantly and put a friendly arm about his shoulders.
"Steady, Freddy!" he whispered. "We'll get out somehow. He was only bluffing. He wouldn't dare shoot us. I'll make him let me see the nearest American Consul. I'll ... I'll make him let me telephone the American Ambassador in Brussels."
"I hope you do for your sake, Dave," Freddy whispered. "But England is at war, and I'm an Englishman. And, Dave ... that map was mine. I used it and marked my route until it got too dark."
Fingers of ice clutched at Dave's heart and pressed hard. He sucked air sharply into hislungs.
"Holy smokes!" he breathed. "Then you did put down all that stuff he was talking about?"
"Oh no, not that!" the English youth said and shook his head vigorously. "I just penciled in the route I had taken until it got too dark. Besides, I lost my pencil when I tried to do it in the glow of the dash light. The rest of the things he must have marked in."
Dave gave a shake of his head and looked puzzled.
"I don't get it!" he murmured. "Why?"
"Don't you see?" Freddy said. "It's really very simple, Dave. They did it to frighten me, to make me answer their questions. They'll hold a military court and use that map as evidence. There'll be an awful row. They'll make one, hoping to scare me into talking. I knew a Jewish boy in England who escaped with his family from the German Gestapo and he told me about the tricks they play to scare you into telling them things. That's what he plans to do with me. But, I won't tell him a thing, not a thing! It's my map all right, but they're not going to frighten me into telling anything that would hurt the Allies. They can't make me!"
"You bet they can't, pal!" Dave said. "And they won't get anything out of me, either."
"I don't think he means any harm towardyou, Dave," Freddy said after a long pause. "You just insist on seeing the American Consul and I think he'll let you. When you spoke of your father's trip to London he seemed surprised. You're an American, Dave. You'll be all right."
"But what about you, Freddy?" Dave exclaimed.
"I won't tell them a thing, no matter what they do," the English youth said determinedly. "Never!"
Dave started to speak, checked himself, and stepped back a pace.
"So that's the kind of a pal you are, huh?" he grunted. "You just up and let me down!"
Freddy jerked his head up in blank amazement. Tears were dangerously close to his eyes.
"Let you down, Dave?" he gasped. "But, Dave...!"
"Sure, let me down," Dave snapped at him. "I thought we were pals? I thought we were going to see this through together?"
"But, Dave, you...!"
"Me walk out and leave you behind?" Dave interrupted the English youth's speech. "Quit a pal just because I'm American and he's English? Not a chance. We're sticking together. You can't toss me off like that!"
"But I was only thinking of you, Dave,"Freddy protested. "After all I really got you into this, you know."
Dave suddenly stopped acting hurt and angry. He bent down and grinned broadly.
"So what?" he whispered. "So I'll get youout. We've got until tomorrow morning to think things over. That's what he said. Well, we're not going to think things, we're going todothings. Are you game, Freddy?"
For an answer Freddy put out his hand, and the two clasped hands warmly. The color came back into the English youth's face, and that made Dave feel almost happy.
"Okay, Freddy," he whispered. "I saw something besides airplanes out the window awhile ago. Come over and I'll show you."
For a couple of seconds Dave stood still listening to the footsteps of the guard outside, then he motioned to Freddy and tiptoed over to the window.
"Look out, and down," he breathed in Freddy's ear. "See? The bottom half of this building sticks out. See the roof? It's not more than six feet below this window. And it's not more than ten feet from the edge of the roof to the back yard. Think you could jump it?"
"Easy!" Freddy whispered. "But what about this window, here? It's screwed in."
"Got that all figured, too," Dave said andpulled an army canteen spoon from the pocket of the old clothes he wore. "Swiped this from the breakfast tray," he said. "A hunch made me stick it in my pocket. A spoon makes a swell screw driver sometimes. I found that out once when I was a kid. I used one of my Mother's to open an old chest I found up in the attic. I got a licking for it because I marked up the wood pretty bad. But the spoon did the trick. Now, here's what you do."
Dave paused and slipped the tip of the spoon handle into the groove of the nearest screw head and applied pressure with both hands. He turned the screw a sixteenth of an inch or so and then stopped.
"Hot dog!" he whispered. "I was scared for a minute the darn things would be so rusted with age they wouldn't budge. But, it's okay. Now, you go over to the door and start talking to me. Talk about anything. Sure, let's talk about baseball."
"But I don't know anything about baseball!" Freddy whispered.
"That's swell!" Dave said. "You can ask me questions and I'll give you the answers. But keep an ear open for that guard. If he starts to open the door you ask me, What's a home run? See? That'll give me time to get away from this window. Okay, got it?"
"Yes, I understand," Freddy said and nodded eagerly. "Gee, you're a great friend, Dave!"
"You too, Freddy," Dave said and gave him a push. "Now, get over there and start asking questions. Thank goodness this window is dirty and nobody can see me from outside."
The instant Freddy went over near the door Dave gave his attention to the first screw. The English youth asked question after question and Dave answered them without half thinking. Every second of the time he worked feverishly with the spoon on the screws. There were eight of them and he guessed it was well over an hour before he had seven of them out and the eighth well loosened. That one he let stay partly in so that the window would remain in place. The last thing he did was to cover the screw holes with bits of cobweb so they wouldn't be noticed. Then he walked over to the cot and sat down.
"Okay, that's enough baseball talk!" he said in a loud voice and winked at Freddy. "Gee, how you can ask questions. Well, it looks like we're not going to get anything to eat. So I'm going to try and get some sleep."
Stretching out on the cot Dave pointed at the window and grinned. Then clasping his hands together he put them over his head and shook them like a prize fighter being introduced to the fight fans. Freddy looked puzzled for amoment, then realized what Dave meant, and went through the hand-shaking motions himself.
"Well, I guess I might as well try to get a little sleep, myself," he said loudly and walked to the other cot.
A moment later the two boys listened to the sound of the guard's footsteps outside and looked at the gradually fading light of day outside the dust and cobweb smeared window.