of desert he could see by simply raising his eyes and glancing out the
front side of the tent.
"Sure!" he said presently with a bitter chuckle. "And if we had some
ham we could have some ham and eggs, if we had some eggs! Nuts!"
The two boys lapsed into moody silence and stared unhappily at the
guard marching slowly up and down in front of their prison tent. Then,
suddenly, it happened! Perhaps it was just another of those mysterious
coincidences so common in war, or perhaps Fate had been waiting for
that exact moment. At any rate, the sound of a distant airplane engine
suddenly came to the boys. They sat up straight, cocked their heads and
stared hard at the shadowy dawn sky to the west.
"That's a Nazi ship!" Dave breathed excitedly. "I can tell the throb of
a German Daimler-Benz engine with both ears stuffed with cotton."
"And it's a Messerschmitt," Freddy said, and pointed. "Look! Take a
bead on that sand dune over there and then look up above it. See it? A
Messerschmitt One-Ten. There! He's cut his engine and he's gliding down
toward this camp."
"Not the ship we saw take off last night," Dave grunted as he found the
plane in the sky and watched it glide downward and toward them. "That
was a Messerschmitt One-Nine single seater. This is the Messerschmitt
One-Ten three place job. Yeah, pilot, radio man, and gunner. Maybe
they take turns contacting this desert headquarters. Boy! Seeing that
ship certainly gives a guy thoughts, doesn't it, huh?"
Freddy simply nodded grimly and said nothing. The plane was very low,
now, and sliding in to land in full view of their prison tent. As it
slowly settled down onto the sand, they suddenly saw the German colonel
and the major run out to the spot where the Messerschmitt was braked
to a stop. There were only two figures in the plane. They climbed down
at once and engaged in what appeared to the boys to be an excited
conversation with the colonel. Dave wasn't sure, but twice he thought
he noticed the column commandant half turn and shoot a look over their
way.
The group talked for a few minutes, then moved away in the direction of
the headquarters tent. When they had passed from view, Dave turned his
head and smiled sadly at Freddy.
"Look at that plane just over there!" he said with a happy sigh.
"They've even left the prop ticking over. Gosh, what I wouldn't give
for a chance to--"
He left the rest hanging in midair and stared unhappily at the
flat-faced guard walking up and down. The man carried a Mauser rifle
in the crook of one arm, and there was a long-barreled Luger in the
holster at his belt. He looked as though his thoughts were a million
miles away, but Dave was quite positive the man was on the alert and
ready for any sudden action of their part.
A moment later a second guard appeared with a couple of mess tins of
food. Hardly looking at the two boys, he set the mess tins down inside
the tent and then stepped up to the guard.
"We are all to report at _Herr_ Colonel's tent at once," he said in
German. "Come along."
To the utter amazement of the boys, the two Germans walked away and
disappeared around a group of camouflage-covered tanks in the direction
of the headquarters tank. Two moments of tingling silence ticked by,
and then Freddy grabbed Dave by the arm.
"A perfect chance, Dave!" he whispered excitedly. "Not one of the
beggars in sight. Let's make a run for that Messerschmitt and be off.
What utter fools they are to give us this chance!"
Dave was already scrambling up onto his feet, but upon hearing Freddy's
last words something seemed to grab hold of him; seemed to freeze him
motionless for a brief instant and then push him down onto the sand.
Freddy half turned and stared at him as though he had suddenly gone
crazy.
"What's the matter?" the English youth gasped. "Are you paralyzed? Come
on, Dave! No telling when they'll come back."
Dave shook his head, took hold of Freddy's arm and pulled him down onto
the sand.
"Nix, Freddy!" he admonished. "Sit down and start eating. The hunch
just hit me right between the eyes. This is _it_, Freddy!"
"This is what?" the English youth demanded angrily. "Listen, Dave, if--"
"Shut up, and eat!" Dave cut him off. "_This is the surprise._ I'm sure
of it. The colonel's little surprise. Don't you get it? They don't
believe our story about the British plane crashing, and the two fellows
in it burning up. They think _we're_ those two chaps. Get it? So that
Messerschmitt is the colonel's little trap. I'll bet you every dollar
I ever hope to have that they're waiting and watching for us to make a
break for that plane, and have got a couple of machine guns trained on
it in the bargain. It's up to us to fool them, and stay put."
The annoyance and anger slowly and reluctantly faded from the English
youth's eyes. He looked at Dave, then looked sadly out at the plane.
"Of course you're right, Dave," he murmured after a moment or two. "I'm
a blasted fool, and almost ran us into something. Yes, you're dead
right, Dave. Oh, well, let's eat. At least that's something to do!"
They had been eating for about ten minutes when their guard suddenly
appeared in front of the tent. He glared at them for an instant and
then motioned with one of his hands.
"_Herr Kommandant_ wants to see you," he said in German. "Come!"
The two boys didn't move a muscle. They simply looked blank and
puzzled until the guard made motions that even a blind man would have
understood. Then they slowly got to their feet and walked out of the
tent.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
_Desert Doom_
The German colonel was flanked by his major and two Nazi Air Force
pilots. All of them stared flint-eyed as the guard ushered the two boys
into the headquarters tent. They returned stare for stare and waited
for somebody to speak. The colonel seemed to be trying the silence and
hard eye cure on them, for it was a good three minutes before he opened
his mouth. Dave had the crazy urge to laugh in the man's face, and if
the situation hadn't been so deadly serious he probably would have.
German officers have never taken any prizes for good looks, and the
colonel was certainly at the bottom of the list.
"Tell me your story again!" he suddenly snapped out, and nodded at
Dave. "Yes, you, my little American."
Dave hesitated a moment as though to get the facts straight in his
mind. Then he slowly told a story identical with everything that he
and Freddy had said before. The Germans listened in silence, but a
sneer twisted the colonel's lips by the time Dave had finished.
"So?" the German commandant echoed in a purring tone. "You did not
arrive at the crash in time to save the two Englishmen in it, eh? They
were unfortunately burned up alive?"
A warning bell sounded in Dave, and the familiar tingling sensation
was at the back of his neck. He was sure that he and Freddy were being
trapped, but he was helpless to do anything about it. The only possible
thing he could do was to stick to their story.
"They certainly looked burned up to me, sir," he said.
The colonel smiled, and his slitted eyes held a triumphant glitter.
"You were very clever not to take advantage of the chance just now to
try and escape in that Messerschmitt plane," he said with a leer. "Very
clever, because you would most certainly be dead now if you had made
such an attempt. However, you do not fool me a bit. Infantry officers,
eh? Bah! Do you think we are fools, you swine?"
Both Dave and Freddy had the sickening sensation of the ground falling
away from under them. They forced themselves to keep dismay from their
faces, however, and stared puzzled-eyed back at the colonel.
"What is that, sir?" Freddy presently asked in a surprised tone.
"You--you think _we_ were in that plane? But that's ridiculous! Those
two poor chaps burned up. They died! We saw them with our own eyes.
Look at these cuts and scratches on my hands. I got them trying to save
those R.A.F. lads. I don't understand what you mean, sir!"
"You understand perfectly!" the colonel said harshly, and stabbed a
thick finger at him. "Yes, you would like me to believe your story, but
I don't. You see, I have other proof. You probably injured your hands
on rocks and desert brush, but _not_ from trying to save two British
airmen. They didn't burn up and die in their plane!"
"Say, what is this?" Dave choked out with forced dumbfounded amazement,
though his heart was actually sliding down into his boots. "Who says
they didn't burn up?"
"I do!" the colonel thundered in a voice that was probably heard 'way
back in Tripoli. "These two German pilots have just returned from an
inspection of that crash. I radioed Tripoli last night for that to be
done. They have just arrived and made their report to me!"
The German paused and bent the eyes of death on the two boys.
"They found no charred bodies in that crash!" he suddenly spat out in
their faces. "They found goggle glasses and rims in the burned cockpit.
They found radio earphones of burned helmets. They found the remains
of a camera--something that is only carried in that type of plane on
_special_ occasions! They found parachute harness buckles and clasps.
They found lots of things that the occupants of that plane left behind
when _they set fire to their craft_!"
"Set afire, my hat!" Freddy blurted out. "I tell you we saw it crash
and burn up!"
At that moment one of the German airmen shook his head and said
something to the colonel so fast that neither of the boys could catch
what it was. The colonel nodded and broadened his leer.
"Stop lying!" he snarled. "You are caught. The plane did not crash and
burn up. _Herr_ Captain, here, has just told me that the marks in the
sand show that the plane made a good landing. There were also other
marks in the sand. _Two sets of footprints leading northward from the
crash!_"
The German commander thumped his fist down on the table in front of
him and glared at the two boys out of eyes fitted with dancing shafts
of lightning. Dave could almost feel every drop of blood drain down
out of his body. His mouth went bone dry and his leg joints seemed
to turn to jelly. It was all he could do to hold himself erect. He
glanced at the German pilot who had spoken, and in that moment he would
gladly have given anything to get his hands about the man's scrawny,
leathery-skinned neck.
"So what?" he suddenly shot out, returning his gaze to the colonel's
face. "If you think we're R.A.F. pilots, then that's your mistake. So
what?"
The colonel's eyes flew open a bit in stunned surprise. Anger flooded
his face with a fiery red. Then just as quickly the anger faded and he
laughed harshly.
"American bluff!" he snorted. "I have heard of that, but it will do you
no good. No good at all, do you hear? I know all about you now, and--"
The colonel leaned forward and thrust out his jaw.
"And I shall deal with you as I would any other spies!" He fairly
crammed the words down their throats.
The boys blinked, but that was the only outward sign they gave of the
conflict of emotions that raged within them.
"Yes, deal with you as spies!" the German repeated. "And I know a very
nice way to deal with spies."
"We are not spies," Freddy spoke up quietly. "We are no more than
prisoners of war. We demand we be regarded as such. Or do the
recognized rules of warfare mean nothing to you?"
Dave expected to see the German fly into a rage at Freddy's final
outburst, but such was not the case. The colonel's face became hard as
a disc of frozen ice. His eyes were pin points of flame that licked out
from between the lids. He gave a curt shake of his melon-shaped head.
"No, they mean nothing to me!" he said, tight-lipped, and flung one
arm out in a circular gesture. "Here in this desert I hold the supreme
command. Here _I_ am the _Fuehrer_, the Leader. My word is law. To
disobey means instant death. My officers and my troops know that, too.
No, I make my own rules. And when I order, you to be shot--_you will be
shot!_"
Dave knew, as Freddy knew, that it was foolish and a waste of time
to pose as infantry officers any longer. The game was up. Well laid
plans and precautions had availed them nothing. They had failed. An
inspection of the burned up plane had knocked the props right from
under them. Their future was in the laps of the gods. No plans and
preparation now. They could only fall back on fast thinking, fast
action and prayer.
"Okay, go ahead and shoot!" he told the German defiantly. "Our job is
done. Our reports are now in the hands of the British High Command.
Sure! We've done our job, and we're not afraid to die. Go ahead and
shoot, and nuts to you and your whole gang!"
The German colonel gave him the kind of a look a wearied parent might
give a spoiled brat, and slowly shook his head.
"It is no use, my little fool American," he said. "You only waste your
breath seeking to fool me. Whatever your mission was, I know that it
failed. It failed because you did not return to your base. You landed
in the desert, and very stupidly allowed us to take you prisoners. And
you made no code report to your superiors because there was no radio in
your plane. These German pilots made sure of that, too."
The colonel turned to them, repeated the statement in German and
watched the two pilots shake their heads vigorously. Then suddenly the
colonel whirled around as Freddy burst out laughing.
"And what is so funny, my swine Englander?" he snarled.
Freddy didn't even look at him. He looked at Dave instead and grinned
broadly.
"Well, I guess we lose that bet, Dave," he said. "But I have to laugh
when I think of Jones and Barker in that other patrol plane trying to
collect from us. I don't fancy they'll come out this way again looking
for us."
"Not a chance," Dave replied quickly, playing up to Freddy's lead.
"They're safe and sound at Wavell's base now. They'd be crazy if they
didn't stay there until Zero Hour."
"What's that?" the German colonel shouted, and came part way up out of
his chair. "Another patrol plane? Zero Hour? What do you mean?"
Dave fairly leaped at the opening the German's questions presented.
"Oh, nothing," he said with a shrug. "We were just kidding to see what
you would do. We were really alone. There wasn't any other plane along
with us. Oh--Anyway, _you didn't see one, did you_?"
The German colonel didn't reply. He dropped back on his chair and eyed
first one of them and then the other. Because his eyes were so well
hidden behind the slits, it was impossible for Dave to tell what effect
his lies had had upon the German. However, he was fairly sure that
the man was puzzled; wasn't so sure of himself now, and was giving the
matter very serious consideration. For a second Dave was tempted to
carry on his crazy chit-chat with Freddy in the hope of befuddling the
German even more. On second thought, though, he killed the urge and was
content to let well enough alone.
"Another plane, eh?" the German muttered in his own tongue. "I wonder.
It is of course possible, yet--"
He jerked his head around to the taller of the two German Air Force
pilots.
"You took part in that air battle yesterday shortly after dawn," he
snapped. "How many enemy planes did you engage?"
"Only one, a British Blackburn Skua," the pilot replied instantly.
Then, as his face darkened from memory, he added, "I would have shot it
down, myself, but I was flying as observer-gunner in one of the Italian
planes. The weakling at the controls became scared and ran away."
"Those Italians!" the colonel said, and spat onto the sand. "Not one
of them, including their fat dictator, has the courage of a newborn
chicken. Bah! I spit on their flag! So there was no other enemy craft?"
"None," the German pilot assured him. "Only the one."
The colonel nodded and turned to the boys again.
"And if you had been lucky enough to return to--to General Wavell's
base, as you think that _other_ plane did," he asked softly, "just what
would you have reported, eh?"
Dave opened his mouth to let fly with a wise-crack, but Freddy beat him
to the punch.
"Your plan of surprise attack, of course," the English youth said
quietly. "How you have fifteen motorized units hidden out here on the
desert. And how you plan to make the surprise attack on the British
garrison at Tobruk just before dawn tomorrow. And how you expect to
take Tobruk from the English and thus trap all of the British forces
that extend westward to Bengazi and the most advanced outpost at El
Aghelia at the southern end of the Gulf of Sidra. Yes, those and a few
other details. But it doesn't matter now about us giving the British
High Command the information. The other two chaps have informed them,
of course."
Had a thousand pound aerial bomb suddenly blown up inside the desert
headquarters tent at that moment, no one there could have been more
surprised. The German colonel's eyes bulged out, and his jaw dropped
down so low it almost struck the top of the table covered with maps.
Even Dave caught his breath and stared hard at his pal. The English
youth simply smiled and shrugged, and appeared to be enjoying himself
immensely. Eventually the German colonel pulled himself together and
snorted aloud.
"Very clever, my little swine," he sneered. "For a moment I thought you
did know something. But of course you don't. Nor does anybody else, for
you two were alone."
Freddy Farmer shrugged again.
"Then it must be so if you say so," he said gravely.
The colonel reddened again. He clenched and unclenched his big fists
and looked as though he were going to lose his temper completely and
lash out at the young Englishman. He held his temper in check, however,
and twisted his lips into a sneer.
"Perhaps you know some of the other details?" he asked, and watched
Freddy's face closely.
"No, I don't, to tell the truth," Freddy replied calmly. "Perhaps
you'll be good enough to tell me. It's about the Italian fleet. I'm not
sure what part it is to play in your attack plans."
The words scored another bull's-eye, that once again amazed everybody
including Dave Dawson. Then, before anybody could speak, Freddy spoke
again.
"Not that it matters," he said, "but are units of the Italian fleet
to bombard Bengazi and Derna? Or just Tobruk? Of course, the British
Mediterranean fleet will be there to greet them, but I'm curious to
know, just the same."
The German colonel opened his mouth to bellow with anger, then suddenly
snapped it shut. He smiled and looked at Freddy with almost a touch of
admiration.
"My congratulations, my little Englisher," he said. "You are far more
clever than I suspected. But your eyes gave you away just now. Too bad.
You might have enjoyed yourself a bit watching me worry. But such is
fate, eh? My surprise attack? I am quite willing to explain it to you.
Dead men cannot talk, you know."
The German paused, and the cold glitter that came into his eyes seemed
to touch Dave's heart like fingers of ice.
"You are quite correct," the German continued speaking. "There are
fifteen desert units hidden out here on the desert. We have been in
the desert for a full week now. And not one Englishman has known that
we were here. Fifteen units. A mechanized infantry division, and a
tank division. Over thirty thousand troops ready and eager to teach
you Englishmen a lesson you will never forget. No, the Italians are
not fighting your great General Wavell this time. This time it will be
Germans--_real_ soldiers. And we will crush and annihilate Wavell's
troops to the last man."
The German nodded savagely and thumped his fist on the table for
emphasis.
"At Tobruk, at dawn tomorrow!" he shouted a moment later. "Tonight
will be our last night on the desert. At dawn tomorrow the battle and
victory. Nothing can stop us. Nothing shall! And within a week we shall
be in Alexandria and Cairo. The British Northern African army will
be shattered, and your great General Wavell's troops in Ethiopia and
Eritrea will arrive too late. They will simply march into our waiting
arms!"
"And the Italian fleet?" Freddy murmured as the other stopped shouting.
"They will do their little part to help with the bombardment of
Tobruk," the Colonel said with an impatient gesture. "But we are
prepared to carry them on our backs if we have to. And now, my little
Englander, we speak of you. Does your American friend understand
German, too?"
"We both speak and understand it," Freddy replied calmly.
Dave stifled a gasp of utter amazement just in time. As it was, he
could not stop himself from jerking his head around and staring at
Freddy out of accusing eyes. Freddy admitting they both spoke German?
What in thunder had gotten into him? Yet the German colonel seemed to
have known they spoke his language, or at least that Freddy did. What
in the world--
"It is amusing to speak English," the German colonel's voice cut into
his whirling thoughts. "So we will not change. Now I have given you a
little information. It is your turn to give me some. I wish to be sure
about the strength of the British garrisons at Tobruk, and Derna, and
Bengazi. Also the British strength at Bardia, and at Sollum on the
Egyptian frontier. You will give me that information?"
"Even if I knew, which I don't," Freddy said, speaking right up to him,
"I most certainly wouldn't tell you a thing."
"Bravo!" the German cried in a mocking voice, and clapped his hands.
"The little English pig is full of courage. Of course you wouldn't tell
me _now_! Later, it will be different. You both will beg and scream for
permission to tell me everything you know."
"That's what you think!" Dave spoke up for the first time in several
minutes. "You've got another guess coming, if you ask me."
"I am not asking you, my American fool!" the German snapped at him.
"You, and this little Englisher, will be asking me--yes, begging me to
listen to all you have to say. And that will be a lot. Ah, sneer, and
look very brave, if you wish, but tonight it will be different. Yes,
much different. You two will come along with us tonight on our last
march to our attack positions. But tonight you will not ride in one of
the cars. You will walk and run behind my car. Your hands will be tied
behind your backs, and there will be a rope leading from each of you to
the rear of my car. It will not be pleasant, my little ones. Sand and
exhaust fumes will get in your eyes, in your noses, and in your mouths.
You will stumble and fall and be dragged through the sand before we can
stop the car. The sand and the desert brush will peel the skin from
your bodies. We will set you on your feet again, and continue onward.
Presently, again you will stumble and fall, and again the sand will do
its work. Again, and again, and again--until your brains crack and you
beg me to listen to what you have to say."
The German stopped short, and his smile was as cruel as the smile on
the face of Satan himself.
"Yes, you will talk tonight, never fear!" he spat at them. Then he
jerked his head around to the major.
"Have the guard take them back to their prison tent!" he barked.
"Perhaps when they have thought it over a bit, they will decide not to
make me force them to speak. I am no murderer, but victory comes first!
Take them away!"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
_R.A.F. Lightning_
When the two boys were back in their prison tent, and the guard had
taken up his post, Freddy turned to Dave and looked at him out of sad
and apologetic eyes.
"I'm sorry, Dave," he said. "I was a complete idiot, and I wouldn't
blame you for shooting me. I guess I just couldn't resist throwing it
into the blighter's face."
"Maybe you know what you're talking about," Dave said with a hopeless
sigh, "but it's all just so much succotash to me. What gives, anyway?
How did you find out about their attack plans? And for cat's sake, when
did he find out we spoke German? Boy! Am I in a flat spin!"
"Then you didn't notice it?" Freddy asked in surprise. "You didn't see
what I saw?"
"No, guess I'm blind as a bat," Dave said. "But let's cut out the
guessing games. Tell me the works before I pass out with curiosity."