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 the _Kommandant_. And now we shall learn all
about you two. Yes, you will be very wise to answer truthfully all the
questions _Herr Kommandant_ asks."
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 to _Herr Kommandant_," the officer said sharply.
"_Leutnant_ Mueller 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 Kommandant_ will see you at once, _Herr Leutnant_," he said.
"Good!" the officer grunted, and pushed Dave and Freddy in the back.
"Inside, at once!"
CHAPTER FIVE
_In the Enemy's Camp_
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 Kommandant_ Stohl," 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 tanks and 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 grasped hold 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.
CHAPTER SIX
_They'll Never Beat Us!_
"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. Maybe we'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 bolt was 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 think we'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 and walked 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 do something 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 be _something_ we 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
pins and 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.