It was a kindly face, and the smile was warm and friendly, yet somehow Dave Dawson couldn't keep it in focus. It would be close to him one moment and seem very real. Then a cloud would pass across in front of it and the face would fade out completely. He felt as though he had been trying to hold that face in his vision for years and years. He knew that the mouth was talking to him, too, but he couldn't hear a word.
Everything was so still and quiet about him, and so white. Everything that his eyes could see was white ... except that kind looking face. He'd stare at it hard, trying to bold it in focus, and then his eyes would become so heavy, and his brain would become so sleepy. He guessed that was the trouble; why he couldn't keep seeing that face for very long at a time. He'd fall off to sleep.
Or was he actually asleep all the time and was this a dream? But why was he sleeping? Heshouldn't be sleeping. He remembered, now! He and Freddy were following those two Belgian dispatch riders toward General Boulard's headquarters. Something funny, though, had happened. What could it have been? Surely he hadn't just fallen off to sleep while Freddy stuck to the wheel.No, of course not! More of it was coming back! There had been a terrific explosion in the road ahead, and the two dispatch riders had disappeared right into it. Yes, he remembered now what had happened. But, where was he? Why was everything white? Why was that kind looking, smiling face fading away from him so often? And why couldn't he hear those words the moving lips were saying? Was he dead? Was this what it was like when you died? And Freddy! Where was his pal, Freddy Farmer? He tried to find suitable answers in his brain, but his head ached so, and looking at that fading face made him so sleepy ... so sleepy....
And then after a long time the face suddenly stopped fading away into the depths of foggy mist. It stayed right where it was, and when the lips moved he actually heard what they said.
"How do you feel, my lad?" they said. "Does your head hurt very much?"
His head? Why should those lips ask if his head hurt? His head didn't hurt at all! As amatter, of fact, nothing about him hurt. He felt fine. He felt swell. What was going on, anyway? Holy smokes! He was in a bed. Under sheets and blankets, and everything. He pushed himself up on his elbow as easy as pie, and looked around. He saw that he was in a hospital. There was a long line of beds down each side of the huge room painted so white it almost hurt your eyes. And there was a man, a soldier in every bed because he could see the uniforms hanging on the hooks on the wall. And that face! It belonged to a captain in the British Army. The medical corps! The insignia was on the lapels of his tunic.
"Steady, my lad!" the officer cautioned in a soothing voice. "Tell me, how's the head feel? The pain gone, sonny?"
Dave blinked and was somehow a little startled to realize that he could talk. He vaguely remembered something about trying to talk a little while ago but being unable to utter a word.
"My head's okay, sir," he said. "I feel great. Where am I, anyway? And what's it all about? This is a hospital, isn't it?"
The medical officer let out a great sigh as though he had been holding his breath for a long time.
"Good, splendid!" he finally said. "You're out of it at last. You'll be all right, now, my lad.But you jolly well had a close one, I can tell you! Might have remained in a coma for weeks, and months. A ticklish thing, concussion shock. Want something to eat?"
"Sure, sure," Dave replied absently. "But, hey, I remember, now. Where's my pal? Where's Freddy Farmer? He was with me when that road exploded!"
"Road exploded, eh?" the medical officer said and raised an eyebrow. "A land mine, probably. So your friend's name is Freddy Farmer? An English lad, isn't he?"
"And the very best!" Dave said with feeling. "But where is he? Gosh, sir, please tell me! I've got to know. He's ... he's all right?"
The officer leaned down and patted his shoulder.
"Your little friend's quite all right," he said and pointed to Freddy Farmer asleep in the next bed. "He came out of it for the last time a few hours ago, but he started raving about a lot of crazy things, so I gave him something to make him sleep some more. He'll be fit as a fiddle when he wakes up. Now, what about this land mine ... or the road exploding, as you say?"
"I don't know exactly," Dave said. "Freddy was driving the Belgian scouting car, and we were following a couple of dispatch riders toGeneral Boulard's headquarters. We had just turned off the Wavre-Namur road, I guess it was, whenblamm! Everything went dark. But how'd we get here? Somebody picked us up last night? Hey, what's so funny about that?"
The officer wiped a broad smile from his lips.
"I wasn't laughing at you, my lad," he said. "It's amusing, though, to witness the final effects of concussion shock. My boy, you weren't picked up last night. You've been here in this British military hospital, at Lille, for eight days!"
Dave was speechless. His eyes widened in blank amazement. He just couldn't believe he had heard correctly. Surely his ears must be playing him tricks.Eight days?
"That's right, my lad," the medical officer said, reading Dave's bewildered thoughts. "It's exactly eight days this morning, since they brought you two in here."
"But eight days?" Dave cried. "But ... but I'm not even hurt! There are no bandages on me, and I don't ache any place. How could I have been here for eight days?"
"I'll not give you the medical explanation, because you wouldn't understand, probably," the officer said with a smile. "But what happened, was something like this. The concussion shock of that explosion, whatever it was, temporarily paralyzed certain nerve centers in yourbody and in your head. Why you didn't receive physical injury is just one of those mysterious things that happen often in war. A shell can blow every strip of clothing off a soldier's back, blow off his shoes, and toss him fifty yards, but not mark him with a single scratch. That's what must have happened to you and your friend. Perhaps, too, being in the scouting car protected you from things flying around. But, certain nerve centers were paralyzed. There's little we can do for that outside of a few injections. It's up to the patient's make-up, his constitution, and such. You probably don't remember waking up several times, do you?"
Dave shook his head.
"No sir," he said. "But I sort of half remember something about seeing a face that kept fading out, and seeing lips move, but I couldn't hear the words."
"Yes, that's the way it is usually," the medical officer said and nodded. "That was just parts of the nerve system returning to normal. You could see a little but you couldn't hear. Or you could feel but still not have the power to speak. The medical term for that has thirty-six letters, I believe. I don't even think I could pronounce it correctly now, anyway. But, you're fit now, my lad. I'll have the nurse bring you in something to eat."
"Gosh!" Dave gasped as a sudden thought struck him. "Have I gone eight days without eating?"
"Hardly," the other said with a laugh. "No, several times you both woke up enough to take food, though of course you don't remember it. The rest of the time we gave you injections. But, my word, the things you two raved about! You insisted, rather your friend insisted on seeing General Caldwell, Chief of Staff. You claimed you had been prisoners in Germany, and had seen a very important map. Your friend was very annoyed when we refused to summon the General at once, and gave him something to put him to sleep, instead. Really...!"
"But that's true, that's true!" Dave burst out. "We were prisoners, and we saw a map of the German plan of invasion. We escaped to the Belgian lines in a plane we stole. Then the sergeant driving us to Namur was killed. We met some Belgian dispatch riders and they were showing us the way to General Boulard's headquarters when the whole road exploded. It's true, sir!"
The medical captain's eyes were now the size of saucers. He stood staring down at Dave in confounded amazement.
"I say, my lad, go a bit easy," he began. "I guess you're not yet out of that coma. Now, justlie back, and...."
"I'm fine, I'm okay!" Dave shouted excitedly. "Honest! It's all true, sir."
The officer continued to stare at him in puzzled bewilderment, and then Freddy's voice from the next bed caused them both to look his way.
"I say, hello, Dave!" the English youth cried. "They said you were all right, and then I guess I fell asleep again. Good grief, this is a hospital, isn't it? By George, it all comes back to me now! That road blowing up. But how in the world did we get here?"
The medical officer didn't bother to answer the question. He hurried over to Freddy's bedside and took a good look at him. Freddy gave him a puzzled frown, then his face suddenly lighted up.
"I say, I've seen you before, haven't I, sir?" he asked.
"This morning," the medical man nodded. "Then you're all ship shape, too? But, listen, my lad, do you two still insist upon seeing General Caldwell, Chief of British Staff?"
Asking the question was like turning a magic key in Freddy. The English youth became very excited at once, and breathlessly explained everything in more detail than had Dave.
"Yes sir," he finished up. "We have somevaluable information, I'm sure. If you could loan us a car, sir, and tell us where we can find the General, we'll go at once."
"You two will go nowhere just now!" the officer said sternly. "Bless my soul, after what you've been through? Certainly not! However, there may be something to all this. I'll get the General on the wire and tell him about you two. His headquarters are not far away. He'll send one of his Staff, or perhaps come himself. This whole thing is almost fantastic! You're sure you're not trying to pull my leg, fool me?"
"Word of honor, sir," Freddy said solemnly.
The medical officer scowled and hesitated a moment. Then he shrugged and hurried out of the ward.
Dave looked at Freddy and grinned happily.
"Boy, am I glad to see you!" he exclaimed. "According to the Doc we should be dead, by rights, or something. Instead, we just got our nerve centers knocked haywire. Say, do you know how long we've been here? Did he tell you when you woke up last time?"
"I guess he didn't have the chance," the English youth said with a wry grin. "I started yelling for them to take us to the General, and they thought I was completely off my topper. Stuck a needle in me and I popped off like a kitten. We've been here last night or since this morning, haven't we? And where the dickens are we, anyway?"
"Hold your hat, Freddy, here it comes," Dave said with a chuckle. "We've been here eight days, he told me."
Freddy's jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out so far you could have knocked them off like marbles on sticks. Then he flushed and laughed scornfully.
"Come off it, Dave!" he protested. "Don't give me any of that kind of tosh. My word! Eight days, my hat!"
"No kidding, that's what he said," Dave insisted. And then he started to give Freddy the medical officer's description of what had happened to them, and their unknown, to them, actions during the eight day period.
He had almost finished when the medical captain came hurrying back into the ward. At his heels were two male orderlies in hospital white. Dave broke off what he was saying and stared questioningly. The medical officer looked very much excited, and also very much impressed.
"Take them to my receiving office," he said to the orderlies and stepped to the side.
Neither Dave nor Freddy had the chance to ask the questions that hovered on their lips. The orderlies took hold of their beds and startedwheeling them down the aisle to the double doors at the end. They passed through another ward and then were wheeled into a fair sized room that was fitted up more as an office than a hospital room.
"That's fine," the captain said. "Return to your wards now."
The orderlies retreated and the captain looked at Dave and Freddy in surprise and admiration.
"Well, bless me!" he exclaimed. "I certainly didn't know I had two young heroes under my charge. I had thought you were just two lads caught up in the rush of things. General Caldwell is rushing over here, now, by car. He has heard about you two."
"About us?" Dave gasped. "But, heck, how could he have heard about us?"
"Yes!" Freddy exclaimed in a tone of awed wonder. "How could he have heard of us?"
"Through the Belgian High Command, I believe," the captain said. "It seems that Belgian infantry lieutenant reported your little flying incident to his commander. Also what you had told him. It was passed on up until it reached General Boulard. General Boulard, it seems, contacted General Caldwell to see if you lads had gotten through to him. The lieutenant, of course, did not know what had happened to you after you drove off in the scouting car with theSergeant. But, I can tell you, General Caldwell is most anxious to meet you. By jove, he almost broke my ear drums with his shouting. Yes, I fancy that you two chaps are rather famous, now, you know?"
"Rot, sir," Freddy said with true British modesty. "I fancy any one could have done it. And a much better job of it, too. Is it true, sir, that we've been here eight days?"
"And nights, as well," the medical officer nodded. "But don't look alarmed, my lad. That sort of thing is not unusual. And you're both safely out of it, now. A day or two of rest, and all the food you can eat, and you'll be like new again."
"I'm okay, right now," Dave said stoutly. "But there's something you didn't explain, sir, How did we get here? Who found us, and what?"
"It's a bit sketchy," the medical officer said with a frown. "As far as I could learn a Belgian ambulance driver came across you and saw that you both weren't dead, and put you in his bus. His own hospital was being evacuated because of shell fire, and so he continued on westward. He reached a receiving station of ours and dumped his load there. You two, and three Belgian gunners. Anyway, from that point you were brought here to me. And here you are. It wassomething like that, anyway. Doubtless you'll never know the real facts. But, I certainly shouldn't worry about that, if I were you. Simply bless your lucky stars, and let it go at that."
"Jeepers!" Dave breathed softly. "Lucky stars? I must have a million of them, I guess. You, too, Freddy. Right?"
"Quite!" The English youth nodded. "Dashed if it isn't like some fairy tale one of those writer chaps would think up."
"And how!" Dave grunted and shook his head. "My gosh! A Stuka bomb drops on me and I wake up hours later and miles away. Then a land mine, or something, blows up in my face, and I wake upeight dayslater, and gosh knowshowfar away. I sure do get around."
"Well, better not make a habit of it, my lad," the medical officer chuckled. "The third time, you know?"
"Hey, those eight days!" Dave suddenly exclaimed. "What's been happening? Who's winning? Are the Allies beating up the Germans? Gee, I sure hope so!"
The smile fled from the medical officer's face and he became very grave. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it abruptly. At that moment the office door swung open and a group of five tired eyed British officers entered the room.A big man, with coal black hair and steel grey eyes, led the party. Even without looking at his uniform with its rows of decoration ribbons, and high rank insignia, Dave knew at once that the man was General Caldwell, chief of British Staff. The captain swung around and clicked his heels.
"Ah, there you are, sir," he greeted the General. "And here, sir, are your two young lads. This is the American chap, Dave Dawson. And this is one of our own lads. Freddy Farmer. Boys, General Caldwell, chief of British Staff. You'd like me to retire, sir?"
"No, no, of course not, Captain," General Caldwell said in a brisk tone. Then turning his steel grey eyes on the boys he smiled faintly. "So, you are the two, eh?" he said. "I've heard quite a bit about you. Now, who wants to talk first? I want to hear everything."
"You tell him about it, Freddy," Dave said promptly. "You remembered more things on that map than I did, anyway."
Freddy flushed and looked embarrassed. The General smiled and perched himself on a corner of the bed, while his officers gathered around.
"All right, Freddy," he said. "Freddy Farmer, isn't it? Oh yes, of course. All right, Freddy, let's have it, eh?"
"Yes sir," the English youth said, and began talking in a low but clear voice.
As Freddy recounted their experiences one by one Dave checked them in his own mind. Presently, though, he only half listened to his pal. He became fascinated looking at the British Chief of Staff. Many times he had seen General Caldwell's picture in the papers back home. And he had read a lot of the General's reputation as a fighter and leader of men. It thrilled him through and through to see the great man sitting just a few feet from him. It was another great experience he would remember always.
The one thing that pleased Dave most about the famous general was that he looked exactly like what Dave had always believed a general should look like. Tall, strong looking, and a face that could be stern and hard as rock. Right now the General could indeed be made entirely of solid rock. He didn't so much as blink an eye as Freddy talked. Not a muscle in his face moved. And his steel grey eyes instead of looking into Freddy's, looked at Freddy's lips asthough to draw the words out. He remained that way right up until Freddy had spoken his last word. Then General Caldwell took his eyes off Freddy's lips and stared unblinkingly at the opposite wall.
"Well done, lads," he suddenly said, speaking in a soft voice that seemed strange coming from his stern looking face. "I'll certainly see that others hear of this, you can mark my words. And you, America! Dave Dawson, can you add anything to the story?"
Dave furrowed his brows in thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"No, guess not, General," he said. "Except that Freddy didn't tell you half of the things he did to get us out of jams. He...."
"Rot!" Freddy snorted. "Who got us out of that room? And who flew that plane and didn't break our necks, I'd like to know?"
"Yeah?" Dave grinned at him. "Well, who stopped the sergeant from running us smack into those Germans? And who stopped those wild Belgians from stabbing us with their bayonets? And who drove that scouting car when the sergeant had been killed? And who...?"
"All right, all right, boys!" General Caldwell broke it up. "You both did splendid jobs, and that's fine. And now, about that map. Let's go back to that. Just a minute."
The General turned and looked at one of his officers.
"Let's have that map, Saunders," he said.
A major whipped a rolled map from under his arm and passed it over. Another officer got a table and moved it between the two beds. A third officer dug up thumb tacks some place, and the General unrolled the map and tacked it flat on the table.
"Now," he said in his soft voice and leaned over the map. "This little town here. It's named Spontin. Do you remember if there was a colored pin there?"
The boys bent over and peered at the place on the map where the General had put a finger tip. Freddy answered first.
"Yes sir," he said. "There was a blue pin there. In fact, sir, there were three blue pins all in a line. About a quarter of an inch apart. I remember that distinctly."
"I see," the General murmured. "And do you recall if there was a date printed under those pins?"
"Yes, there was!" Dave cried. "Wait a minute. Yes, it was May Sixteenth. I'll bet on it!"
"No need of that, my boy," General Caldwell said quietly, and moved his finger. "Now, here. At Vervins, in France. What about that?"
"A blue pin also, sir," Freddy spoke up. "Andthe date marked under it was May Eighteenth."
"And here at Guise?" General Caldwell asked and moved his finger across the map again.
"Check on the blue pin!" Dave said.
"And I'm pretty sure that date was May Nineteenth, sir," Freddy said.
General Caldwell didn't move his finger any more. He straightened up and looked around at his officers. They all nodded together and looked very grave. A little bit of panic raced through Dave.
"We're all wet, General?" he blurted out. "You think we've just made all this up? So help me, honest, we...."
Dave cut himself off short as the Chief of Staff shook his head and gave him the ghost of a smile.
"On the contrary, not at all, my boy," he said. "As they would say in the States, I was just checking up. You two most certainly saw the German plan of invasion attack and execution."
"We could be a bit mistaken about the dates, sir," Freddy said in a hesitating voice. "But I'm pretty sure those we gave you were correct."
"They were," the General said, and there was a faint ironic edge to his voice. "You saw what the Germansplannedto do. We saw themdoit! They occupied Spontin on the Sixteenth, Vervins on the Eighteenth, and Guise on the Nineteenth. That's a matter of history, now."
"Good grief!" Freddy exclaimed with a sob in his voice. "They've gained that much, sir?"
"And much more," General Caldwell said grimly and took a little box from his tunic pocket. "Now, I have a very important job for you two. Very important! A whole lot depends on your memories, so sharpen them up well. Here is a box of pins. I want you two lads to try and put a pin in this map for every pin you saw in that Intelligence map. Colors don't matter. These here are all the same. All white, as you see. Now, study this map and shake up your memories well. And here's a couple of pencils, too. Write down all the dates you can remember. And put them under the right pins, of course."
"Gosh, there must have been a couple of hundred pins on that map, sir!" Dave said in a weak voice.
"Just stick in the pins you remember," General Caldwell said quietly. "And the dates, too. All right, let's get at it, shall we?"
It was well over an hour later when Freddy and Dave leaned back from the map well nigh mentally exhausted.
"Anything else would be just a wild guess, sir," Freddy said. "I wouldn't be sure of it atall."
"Me too," Dave said. "I'd just get all balled up. Those are all I can remember."
General Caldwell seemed not even to hear them. Once again he was like something made out of solid rock. He sat forward a little, an elbow on the edge of the table and his broad chin cupped in the palm of his hand. His eyes were fixed on the map, moving from pin to pin. The other officers, and the medical captain stood like statues, almost not daring to breathe. The silence that hung over the office was so charged that Dave was filled with the crazy desire to let out a yell, just to see what would happen. But, of course, he didn't so much as let out a peep. Like the others, he waited motionless for the General to speak.
Presently the General raised his head and smiled at them.
"Yes, I most certainly will make it a point that others be told about you two," he said. "I know His Majesty King George will certainly be interested to hear it. You have done a splendid job, boys. I'm proud of you. All England will be proud of you, too. And, as you know, Freddy, England never forgets."
"But, sir," Freddy began as his face got red with embarrassment. "But, sir, if the Germans have advanced so far what good is the information we've given you? We've given it to you too late."
"In war it's never too late," General Caldwell said quietly. "True, if I could have seen the map the day you did, why, perhaps things might now be different. But even at that you can't tell. No, lad, the information has not come to me too late. In fact, it has come to me just in time. I think, boys, that this information will save a considerable part of the British Army in France and Belgium."
The General suddenly got to his feet, and Dave gulped as he saw the fiery look that leaped into the officer's eyes.
"It depends a lot on the King of the Belgians," he said as though he were talking to himself. "If he lets us down, exposes our left flank, it will be bad. But, without this information I have now, it could well be twice as bad."
"Then there's something to that rumor, sir?" the medical officer spoke up. "The Belgians may quit?"
"It's more than rumor," General Caldwell said in a hard voice. "But I pray to God they don't. Saunders! Bring this map along, will you? And Freddy, and you, Dave, it was a job well done. I'm proud of you. Very proud. You'll hear more of this, later, mark you."
As the two boys stared wide eyed and openmouthed, General Caldwell and his Staff officers clicked their heels and saluted smartly. The boys were still in their Seventh Heaven trance when the medical officer returned after seeing the General and his officers to their cars outside.
"A red letter day for you two, what?" he beamed.
Dave gulped for air and slowly came back to earth.
"Boy oh boy!" he breathed. "What do you know! A salute from a General! Gosh! Say, Captain, could we have some food, and our clothes, now, maybe?"
"All the food you can put in your stomachs," the medical officer said. "But jolly well no clothes. You two young heroes stay in bed for a few more days, at least. Mind you, now, that's an order. I may not be a general, but I'm jolly well in charge of this hospital!"
And the medical captain meant exactly what he said. Both Dave and Freddy begged and pleaded to be allowed to get up. They had found that the hospital was terribly short handed, and they were both anxious to do what they could to help. Besides, staying in bed thinking and talking, and talking and thinking was slowly driving them crazy. Regardless of what the General had said each nursed the tiny fear that they had arrived too late with theirinformation. They now knew how far the German hordes really had smashed through toward the coast of France and Belgium, and even to their untrained minds it held horrible and terrible significance.
But the medical captain stuck to his order, and would not let them go. On the second day after the visit by General Caldwell they were allowed to get up and wander about the hospital wards at will. It was then they discovered that every one in the hospital had learned of their brave and courageous work, and the wounded soldiers heaped praises upon them from all sides. Yet, underneath the praise and the attempts by the soldiers to be cheerful, there was a note of worry, and strain, and a sort of breathless waiting. Dave and Freddy caught the feeling at once and it served to add to the doubt and fears in their own minds that all they had done, and all they had suffered had gone for nought.
Everybody was waiting, waiting. Waiting for what, they did not know. Or if they did they kept it to themselves. News of the battles sifted gradually into the hospital wards. Some of it was true, and a lot of it was false. But all of it rasped nerves and cut deep into the tortured minds of men.
And then, on the third day, it happened!
The news flew from lip to lip, and a pall ofmisery and bitterness hung over the entire hospital. Belgium has quit! The Belgians have thrown down their guns and given up! The whole left side of the British Army is now exposed to the Germans racing down out of Holland! On the south the French and the British have been split by a German wedge driven straight across France to Abbeville on the Channel coast. The entire British Army, and part of the French, is surrounded on three sides. There is only one door of escape left open. That door is Dunkirk!
The instant they heard the news Dave and Freddy rushed to the office of the medical captain. They found there a very worried and very harassed man. He was just hanging up on the telephone when they burst in. He saw them, started to wave them outside, but suddenly checked the motion.
"Come in, you two," he called to them. "How do you feel?"
"Swell," Dave said.
"Very fit, sir," Freddy said.
The medical officer nodded and then stared at them a moment or two and drummed nervous fingers on the top of his desk.
"You've heard the news?" he suddenly asked.
They nodded, and waited.
"It puts us in a tight corner," the officersaid. "And it puts me in averytight corner. I've just received orders from G.H.Q. to evacuate this hospital at once. There are over five hundred wounded men here, and only a dozen ambulances. We're to evacuate to the Base Hospital at St. Omer. Now ... You chaps told me the truth, eh? Youdofeel fit?"
"Gee, yes!" Dave exclaimed. "We came in here to see if there wasn't something we could do to help. We feel swell, honest."
"That's right, sir," Freddy nodded. "And thereissomething we can do?"
"There is," the medical officer said. "I haven't enough ambulance drivers, and we've got to get these wounded men out of here at once. Before tonight, in fact. I'll tell you the truth, boys. At the speed the Germans are advancing, now that the Belgians have given up, they'll be here in Lille, tonight!"
"Gee!" Dave breathed softly. "Right here in this place, tonight?"
The medical officer nodded and held up a hand.
"Hear those guns?" he said gravely. "They are not more than twenty miles away, and they are German. We've got to work fast, boys. Every man we have to leave here will become a German prisoner of war. I wouldn't ask you, except that the situation is desperate. By rights,you two should go along with the wounded, instead of driving them. But it is a grave emergency, and every one who can,musthelp."
"We're ready, sir," Freddy said quietly. "What are your orders?"
A smile of deep gratitude flickered across the officer's face.
"Get into your regular clothes, first," he said with a smile. "Then report to Lieutenant Baker in the ambulance parking lot by the south wing. And, thank you, boys. We'll meet again at St. Omer."
The two boys grinned, then turned on their heels and raced back to the ward for their clothes. The wounded soldiers suspected that something was up, and a hundred questions were hurled at them. They didn't bother to answer any of them. They simply piled into their clothes and hurried outside and around to the parking lot by the south wing.
"Gee, Freddy!" Dave panted as they raced along side by side. "I was afraid I was going to stay in that hospital for the rest of the war, and not get another chance to do anything."
"A bit worried, myself," Freddy said. "I was afraid that we'd done our job, and that it was all over as far as we were concerned. But, I have a feeling, Dave, that perhaps it's really just beginning for us."
And Freddy Farmer never spoke a truer word in his life, as they were both soon to realize!
"Right you are, lad, off you go, and good luck!"
The voice of the Lille hospital orderly came to Dave as though from a thousand miles away. It came to him like a voice awakening him from a sound sleep. He lifted his head and mechanically reached for the brake lever of the Daimler built ambulance and stared out of bloodshot eyes at a scene that had become as familiar to him as his own face when he looked into a mirror. It was the dirt road that wound away from the Lille Hospital, curved about the small pond and then disappeared from view in some woods a half mile to the east.
How many times had he driven over that road today? He didn't know, and he didn't even bother to guess. Probably a hundred. Fifty at least. His brain had stopped thinking about things hours ago. For hours his actions had all been mechanical. A mechanical routine over and over again. Help fill the ambulance at theLille Hospital. Get in behind the wheel and start the engine, and take off the brake, and shift into first. Start down the winding road and shift into second, and then into high. A stretch of brown road always in front of him. Driving, driving, always driving forward. Skirting shell and bomb craters. Pulling in under the nearest group of trees whenever he heard the deadly drone of Stuka dive bombers. Sitting crouched at the wheel while death whistled down from the sky to explode in the ground and spray slivers of screaming steel into all directions.
Climbing in back to put a slipping bandage back in place. Lighting a cigarette for some poor wounded soldier who couldn't use his hands. Giving them all a grin to cheer them up. Saying, "We'll be there in a couple of shakes," a million times. Starting on again. Stopping again. And then finally pulling into the St. Omer Hospital court. Helping to unload, and then the wild ride alone back to Lille for another load of wounded. Fifty trips? A hundred trips? He had no idea. Maybe this was his one thousandth trip. Was he asleep or awake? He wasn't sure of that, either. His body had stopped protesting against the aches and pains long ago. He simply didn't feel anything any more; didn't think anything. He only acted. He drove ...and drove ... and drove. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else mattered but doing his share to make sure that not a single helpless wounded soldier was captured by the hordes of Nazi troops streaming across northern France and Belgium in a mad race to cut off the British from the last open Channel port, Dunkirk.
As he took off the emergency brake he became conscious of somebody climbing into the seat beside him. He turned his head to stare into Freddy Farmer's haggard, dirt streaked face.
"What's the matter, Freddy?" he mumbled. "What are you doing here?"
"Start her off, Dave," came the dull answer. "This is the last load. I'm riding with you. The Captain and his staff are using my ambulance. Man, but I'm tired!"
"Check," Dave grunted and shifted into first. "The last load, huh? And it's just getting dark. Well, anyway, we licked 'em. The Nazis won't find anything there. Lean back and try to get a nap, Freddy."
"And you perhaps fall asleep at that wheel, and tip us into a ditch?" Freddy said with a forced chuckle. "No thanks. I'll stay awake and try to keep you that way, too. By the by, though, Dave. You've made more trips than anybody. Want me to drive this one?"
"Not a chance!" Dave said and suddenly realized that he was laughing for the first time in hours. "I still remember that ride you gave me in that Belgian scouting car. Nix. I'll do the driving. You just relax, Freddy. But, boy, will I be glad when this trip is over!"
"I'll be jolly well pleased, myself, you can bet!" Freddy murmured and stretched out his legs. "I think I shall sleep for another eight days, and not care a darn what the blasted Nazis do about it."
For the next twenty minutes that was the last spoken between the two. They were both too tired even to talk. Besides, there was little to talk about save the experiences they had had on the road. Those they could save until another day. And after all there was still this trip to complete. And so they rode along in silence. The sun slid down over the western lip of the world, and night and the Germans came sweeping up from the east. Dave kept his head lights switched off until it was too dangerous to continue further without them. Perhaps it had just been chance, or perhaps Goering's pilots had found out that the Lille Hospital cases were being evacuated over that road. Anyway, the Stukas and the light Heinkels had given it a terrific pounding all day long, and it was now well spotted with craters. To try to drive along it in the dark would be exactly the same asdriving the ambulance over the edge of a cliff. It would be suicide, to say the least.
Dave hesitated a moment, though, with his hand on the switch and listened intently. Behind him there was the incessant dull rumble of the guns, punctuated every now and then by the loud thunder of a land mine going off. In the sky there was the drone of wings, but the droning was not close.
"Keep an eye peeled, will you, Freddy?" Dave said and turned the switch. "I've got to have lights or we'll go right into a shell hole. If you hear something coming, yell, and I'll switch off these things."
"Right-o!" Freddy called wearily and stuck his head out the door window and looked up. "All clear, now, though. None of the blighters near us. I say, what's up, now?"
Dave didn't bother to answer. He, too, had spotted the waving flashlight just up the road. He slipped the car out of gear, steered it around the rim of a yawning bomb crater and let it roll to a stop. A British infantry officer, with a Military Police band on his tunic sleeve, ran up to Dave's side of the ambulance and flashed his light in Dave's eyes for a second.
"Where are you headed, lad?" he asked.
"St. Omer," Dave said. "We've got the last load of wounded from the Lille hospital."
"Well, you can't take them to St. Omer," the officer said. "A mile up ahead there's a road to the right. Take it and keep going until you're stopped. Whoever stops you will give you further directions. All right, off with you. Good luck."
"But, hey, why not St. Omer?" Dave blurted out. "We've been taking them there all day."
"I know," the officer said in a half angry and half bored voice. "But they've all been evacuated again. To Dunkirk. Hitler's lads are in St. Omer, now. Better hop it. They may be here, soon."
Dave slammed the ambulance into gear and started off. Raging anger surged up within him. He gripped the bucking wheel until his hands hurt. Nazis are here! Nazis are there! Nazis are every place! Even thinking of the name made him want to start screaming and shouting at the top of his voice. He turned his head slightly and took a quick side glance at Freddy. The English youth's chin was firm, and there was the same defiant look in his eyes. However, the droop of his shoulders spoke plainly of the bitter thoughts that were sweeping through his mind. Impulsively Dave let go a hand from the wheel for a second and slapped Freddy on the knee.
"Don't let it get you down, Freddy," he said."They'll trim the stuffing out of Hitler before it's over."
"Of course," Freddy said in a heavy voice. "I wasn't thinking of that. If we could only have reached General Caldwell sooner."
"Gosh, we did our best!" Dave exploded. "And, besides, the General told us it helped plenty. Gee, I hope he just wasn't kidding us. I don't think so, though. A man like General Caldwell doesn't kid, I bet. Well, here's the road. Wonder where it'll take us."
They had reached the turn off. So had some Stukas a couple of hours before and they had marked it well with a cluster of bomb craters. Dave had to detour through a field to make the turn but he managed to get back onto the road. To his vast relief he found it hardly touched by bombs and he was able to speed up the ambulance. The good road helped his spirits, too. It boosted them up considerably and a lot of his fatigue fell away from him. The same was true with Freddy. The English youth continued to stare fixedly through the windshield at the glow of the headlights on the road, but his body seemed to straighten up, and there was a less depressed air about him.
However, it was as though it all had been planned by the fates controlling the war and the immediate destinies of these two brave gallantyouths. It was as though it was planned for them to be lifted up in spirit, and in strength, so that they might have something left with which to face the next misfortune of the conflict to befall them.
The first indication that there was more trouble ahead came as they roared around a bend in the road, and then the road straightened out like an arrow.
"My gosh, look!" Dave cried and pointed. "Like an earthquake had hit it or something!"
Both sides of the road, as far as they could see in the glow of the headlights, were strewn with heaped up piles of war equipment wreckage. Guns from machine gun size to heavy howitzers lay scattered about. Ammunition wagons were over on their sides, their contents spilled on the ground like sand from a box. Shell blasted tanks rested in soft ground at crazy angles, some of them blown wide open, and all of them of no more use to anybody.
"Gosh, like driving through a junk yard!" Dave grunted and unconsciously slowed down the ambulance. "What do you suppose happened? Gee, that's English stuff, too. See the markings?"
"Yes," Freddy replied. "And I think I can guess what happened. A retreating British column was caught here by the bombers, I think.You can see where the craters were filled in so the rest of them could carry on. What equipment they couldn't take, they destroyed so that the Germans wouldn't get it. Look, Dave! There's another flashlight chap up ahead. And he's English! I can see him clearly, now."
"Right," Dave nodded as he too caught sight of the khaki clad figure, with an M.P. band on his arm, standing in the middle of the road.
He slipped the ambulance out of gear and let it roll to a stop and stuck his head out the door window.
"We've got wounded here!" he said as the officer moved forward. "They turned us off onto this road, back a few miles. Said the next officer we met would give us instructions."
"More wounded?" the officer echoed in an exasperated voice. "I seriously doubt if there'll be room. But get along. First turn left, and two miles straight. A railroad junction there, and still working, I certainly hope! They'll take your men. Now, chase along with you!"
"What happened here?" Dave asked and reached for the gear shift lever.
"The worst!" the officer snapped, and gestured with his hand. "Stukas caught a whole battalion. Nasty business! Now, chase, do you hear?"
Dave didn't wait to argue about that. He sentthe car rolling forward and kept his eyes open for the turn to the left. He came to it presently and turned off. It was also more or less untouched by bombs so he could keep his speed steady. In almost no time they came upon a whole army of British soldiers. They jammed the road and overflowed on both sides. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were turned their way as their headlights cut through the night. A soldier with sergeant's chevrons on his sleeves rushed up to them.
"Shut off those blasted lights, you fool!" he roared. "You want the Jerry planes to ... Good grief, a couple ofkids!What's this?"
"Ambulance with wounded from Lille, Sergeant," Freddy called out to him. "The officer back there told us to take them to the rail junction. How far is it?"
"Wounded, eh?" the sergeant grunted. "Well, that's a sight different. Keep going. You're practically there, mates."
The sergeant stepped back and cupped big hands to his mouth.
"Make way!" he thundered at the road choked mass of British troops. "Ambulance! Make way there, you chaps! Ambulance! Give them the horn, lad. That'll make 'em jump."
The sergeant barked the last at Dave as the ambulance started forward. Dave got the car inhigh then held his hand on the horn. Freddy got out on the running board and started shouting, "Make way for an ambulance!" at the top of his voice. For two or three awful seconds Dave was afraid that the soldiers were going to refuse to move. But the shouted word, "Ambulance!" finally did the trick. They shuffled off to both sides and left a path down the middle of the road. Driving with one hand and keeping his other on the horn, Dave steered the ambulance down that path until a bomb shattered railroad bridge stopped him. There was no need of going farther anyway.
They had reached the rail junction, or at least what was left of it. Eastward from the bridge the track was just so much twisted steel, but westward from the bridge it had not been touched, by some strange miracle. There was a long train of some twenty cars on the track with an engine at the far end. Dimmed lights were moving around all over the place like fire-flies on a muggy night. The murmur of many voices filled the air, and as Dave got his eyes accustomed to the scene he saw that long lines of battle weary soldiers were climbing into the cars. And then out of nowhere a squad of soldiers with white bands on their tunic sleeves swooped down on the ambulance.
"Shut off your motor, mate!" a voice shouted."You won't be needing it any more. Step lively, you lads. Easy with the poor blighters, now. That's the way."
Before Dave and Freddy could climb stiff legged down from the ambulance the white banded group of soldiers had the rear doors open and were gently but swiftly lifting out the wounded on stretchers and carrying them to the train. Nobody talked. Even the wounded made no sound. Everybody seemed to realize that all that counted was speed, and they were concentrating on that alone. Dave watched for a minute or so and then went up to the soldier who had given the orders.
"Where's the train going?" he asked.
"Dunkirk, unless the Jerry fliers stop us," the soldier replied without looking at him. "Any more of these chaps coming along in back of you?"
"This is the last load from Lille," Dave said. "I don't know about any others."
"Lille?" the soldier gasped and seemed startled. "I thought the Jerries were there!"
"I fancy they are, now," Freddy spoke up. "I say, will there be room enough for us on that train, do you think?"
"Always room for two more on anything," the soldier grunted and watched the stretchers disappear into the maze of moving lights. "Youchaps just follow me, and I'll...."
The soldier never finished the rest of that sentence. At any rate, if he did, the boys didn't hear him. At that moment there came the faint drone of engines high in the sky and to the east. Instantly it seemed as though a thousand men put whistles to their lips and all blew them at the same time.
"Bombers!" roared one fog horn voice.
"Everybody aboard!" bellowed another.
"Never mind your kit, you men, get aboard!" thundered a third.
"All lights out!" a fourth voice carried above all the others.
In the wink of an eye the moving lights stopped moving and went out. All was plunged into darkness. A darkness filled with grunting sounds on the ground, and the throbbing beat of approaching airplanes overhead. Instinctively Dave and Freddy grabbed hands and started moving toward the train. No sooner had they taken a dozen steps than they ran smack into a wall of solid flesh. They tried to force their way through but it was as futile as trying to push a tidal wave to one side. They alone were not the only ones trying to get aboard that train. A few hundred others had the same idea.
Suddenly the shrill whistle of the engine cut through all other sound. A moment later theangry roar from hundreds of throats told Dave and Freddy that the train was moving. They stopped trying to push forward, and simply stood there listening to the angry shouting of the troops who could not get aboard, and the sound of the train as it picked up speed and went racing off toward the east.
"Here they are! Everybody scatter!"
Perhaps it was the same fog horn voice, and perhaps it wasn't. Anyway, everybody heard the command and started moving. A moment later the air became filled with the howl of diving wings. Further orders were not necessary. In a flash Dave thought of the bomb blasted bridge. The road had once dipped down under it, but now it was no more than a cave made out of jagged chunks of stone with twisted steel rails and splintered ties for roof shingling. He grabbed Freddy by the arm and spun them both around.
"That busted bridge!" he shouted in his friend's ear. "We can crawl down under it. We should be safe."
"Just thinking of that, myself!" Freddy shouted back as they both broke into a run. "Those blasted Stukas! Will we never hear the last of them!"
As though to punctuate that sentence the leading bomber swooped low, dumped its load andwent screaming up into the night sky. Its bomb struck a hundred yards away but the concussion seemed to lift both of the boys off their feet. It put wings on their feet as well. They dashed madly through the roaring darkness, missed turned-over trucks and hunks of the bombed station by inches, and finally scrambled down under the bridge and into the cave-like hole blown out of one of the supporting walls. They crawled back over the broken stones as far as they could and sat huddled together listening to the world blow apart over their heads.
"Well, at least we got our load of wounded aboard!" Dave shouted as there came a lull in the bedlam of thunderous sound. "That's something, I guess."
"Yes, we didn't let them down," Freddy's voice came faintly. "Phew, but I'm tired. Stukas or no Stukas, I don't think I can keep awake another minute."
The words seemed to touch something inside Dave. He too became suddenly listless in both mind and body. He felt Freddy sagged against him and he battled to keep his eyes open; to keep a look-out in case they might have to change their place of shelter. But ton weights hung on his eye lids, and it was impossible to keep them open any longer. Above them worlds exploded sound and flame. Underneath themworlds shook and trembled as each devastating blow was struck. None of it, however, reached the two boys. Young strong bodies had taken an awful beating for hours on end, and they needed rest. Time might cease, and the world could come to an end, but it would have no effect on Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer, for they were both sound asleep.