refuse to permit himself to rest even for a moment. Freddy wasn't
complaining, and if Freddy could take it then he could, too. Freddy
might be younger, and a bit shorter, and weigh less, but there was no
difference in the quality of his fighting spirit, or of the courage in
his heart. And so Dave kept on climbing upward, and upward through the
black night until finally ... and it seemed as though a thousand years
had passed by ... he finally reached the crest. He staggered along the
flat crest for a few yards and then sank wearily down on the soft earth.
Freddy dropped down beside him, and for a long time there was no sound
between them save the sounds of their labored breathing.
Eventually, Dave pushed himself up to a sitting position, wiped his
dripping face on the sleeve of his shirt, and let out a long sigh.
"Gee, am I out of condition for track!" he breathed. "That was plenty
tough. I thought we'd never make it. You okay, Freddy?"
The English youth groaned softly as he sat up.
"I guess so," he murmured and sucked in great gulps of cool night air.
"But I certainly hope we don't have to do that often. You can't see very
much from here, can you? I guess they're not taking chances on showing
many lights in case our bombers come over. I'd like very much to see a
big bomb drop on that Colonel Stohl, though. He deserves one!"
Dave chuckled and instantly felt much better. Freddy might be dead on
his feet, but he still had the old fight.
"Two, one for me," he said and stared down at the town.
In all there were not more than two dozen lights showing, and at least
half of them were the shaded lights of army cars and trucks moving along
the one main street of the town. If there were others they were blotted
out by the trees.
"About that map, Freddy," Dave said presently in a low voice. "I think
this is Estalle, myself, but that's not much of a help. I mean, I
couldn't figure how far we are from the Belgian lines. I guess it can't
be very far, though. They only started the invasion yesterday morning,
so they can't have gone very deep into the country."
"I don't agree with that, Dave," Freddy said. "The German blitzkrieg in
Poland made as much as eighty and ninety miles in a day. Besides, my
father taught me a lot about marking army maps. Of course I don't know
what _all_ of those markings meant on the Colonel's map, but I'm pretty
sure those little yellow pins represented their advanced armored
scouting units."
"But good gosh, they were as far west as Brussels and Charleroi!" Dave
gasped. "That's miles away. What about the Belgian frontier forts, and
the forts of Liege, and such big places? Wouldn't they hold them back?"
"I don't know," Freddy said. "But I suspect the Germans are doing the
same thing they did in the Polish campaign. Their light fast mobile
units scoot right on past the heavily fortified centers and capture
small positions in the rear. Then the bombers and the heavy attack
tanks, and such, go at the big forts. It's as I heard my father say
shortly after the Polish invasion. You don't have trench warfare any
more. It's blitzkrieg nowadays. Lightning attack with small fast units,
with the main body moving up behind and concentrating on main points of
defense. And don't forget Hitler's air force, Dave. It cleared the way
for him in Poland, and in Denmark, and Norway. They're probably doing
the same against the Belgians. At least until the British stop them. And
we'll jolly well stop them, don't worry."
"Gee, you talk like a regular military expert," Dave said in admiration.
"I guess your Dad taught you a lot. War certainly isn't what it used to
be, I guess. But, look, there were some blue pins on that map, and
beside each one was a date. I saw dates a week and two weeks from now.
And there were blue pins all the way across Belgium to the English
Channel. I ... Holy smokes! It just struck me. The yellow pins show
where the Germans are today, and the blue pins mark places they expect
to capture on certain days! Could that be true, do you think?"
"Yes, I do," Freddy said. "I'm pretty sure, Dave, that we've seen
something the Allied High Command would give a million pounds to see.
Five million, or more! That was an Intelligence map of the whole German
plan of invasion, Dave. I'm sure of it!"
"My gosh, then let's get going!" Dave cried, and leaped to his feet.
"We've got to get through to Allied High Command, wherever it is. We
can't show them the map, but between us we should be able to remember
enough about it to help them plenty. We...."
A wild yell from down at the base of the hill, and three pistol shots in
rapid succession, cut off Dave's words like a knife. He shot a quick
look down the hill and saw a cluster of lights suddenly spring into
being. He wasn't sure but he felt pretty certain they were from the
building where he and Freddy had been held prisoners.
A second later when more shots and more shouting drifted up to him, he
was sure. The guard had probably taken another look, and found out they
had escaped. Now the alarm was being given. Bitter anger for wasting
time talking flashed through him and was gone. He reached down quickly
and pulled Freddy up onto his feet.
"They've discovered our escape!" he cried. "We've got to start moving,
and fast. Stick close to me. We'll still head north."
"But why north?" Freddy protested. "We should go west if we want to
reach the Belgian outposts as soon as possible, and get them to take us
to Allied G.H.Q., Dave!"
"No, north!" Dave said. "They'll guess we're trying to get to the
Belgians, you see? So they'll start hunting toward the west, and sending
word ahead. If we go north we'll be fooling them for awhile ... I hope.
Anyway, it's our best bet. See? There go a couple of their cars racing
down the road toward the west. Come on!"
CHAPTER NINE
_A Desperate Mission_
Dawn was a little over an hour away and Dave Dawson couldn't drag his
body forward another step. For hours he and Freddy Farmer had trudged
across strange country through the darkness striving to put more and
more ground between them and the pursuing Germans. A dozen times they
had almost stumbled headlong into roving German mop-up patrols. And once
they had crouched for a solid hour in a road ditch while a long line of
tanks, and motorized artillery units had rumbled by heading westward.
But now he just couldn't go another step. He didn't care if the whole
German Army was right at their heels. He had to stop and rest. There is
a limit to the endurance of even the strongest of men, and Dave and
Freddy had most certainly proved themselves to be men, not just mere
boys, during those hours of mad flight across enemy held ground. Where
they were Dave didn't know, nor did he care much right at the moment.
The North Star had been his guide all the way, but they had been forced
to change their direction in order to skirt bomb blasted villages filled
with German troops, and roads clogged with parts of the mighty Nazi war
machine, so it was impossible even to guess how far they had traveled,
or in what general direction.
Now, though, as he came to the outer edge of some woods and saw the
shadowy shapes of barren fields beyond, Dave flung himself down under
some bushes and gave his body over to the utter fatigue and weariness
which had been trying to drag him down for the last several miles. His
throat was dry and craving for water, and his stomach was screaming for
some of the bread and the hunk of cheese he and Freddy had so wisely
saved from that huge breakfast, and had stuffed inside their shirts
before crawling out the window. Yes, food and water would go fine, but
later. He was too dead tired now to so much as move a muscle. In a dull
sort of way he was conscious of Freddy flopping down beside him, and
then a moment later he felt himself slip away into blissful peace.
A soothing warmth on his back eventually woke him up. He started to move
but the sudden aches and pains in his body brought a stifled groan to
his lips. He stayed where he was for a moment with his face buried in
his crossed over arms, soaking up the soothing warmth on his back. Then
he rolled over on his back and stared up through the bush branches at
the sky. It was another perfect spring day and the sun was well up on
high. That realization finally filtered into his tired brain and brought
him sitting bolt upright.
"Gee, it must be close to noon!" he heard his own voice whisper. "And
we've still got a heck of a ways to go. But where, and in what
direction, I wonder?"
He turned and put out his hand to shake Freddy sleeping close beside
him. But when he saw the pale drawn face of his friend he let his hand
drop back into his lap. He just didn't have the heart to wake up Freddy.
The English youth was positively dead to the world, and one look at the
completely exhausted expression on Freddy's face told Dave the youth
wouldn't be fit to travel even if he were awakened. True, it might be
very dangerous for them to remain where they are. German soldiers might
stumble about them at 'most any moment. Just the same a strange sense of
responsibility took possession of Dave. He was the older of the two, and
the stronger. By more or less mutual consent he had become the leader.
As the leader he should use his head. And it would _not_ be using his
head to wake up Freddy and force the poor kid to continue on.
"No, it's best to stick here, at least until dark," he argued with
himself. "We're pretty well hidden under these bushes. And ... and,
gosh, I just haven't the heart to wake him up!"
His decision made, he put his hand inside his shirt and pulled out the
very much crushed half loaf of bread and the hunk of cheese. He ate a
little of each and then made himself put the rest back inside his shirt.
It helped his stomach a little, but it only served to aggravate his
thirst. He'd rather have a glass of water right now than be standing in
the middle of Piccadilly Circus, in London, with his father.
He lay back on the ground again and started thinking about his father in
an effort to forget his thirst. But after no more than five or six
seconds it just wasn't any use. He sat up again and peered around. It
was then he saw the farm house and the sheds about half a mile away.
Smoke was coming from the farm house chimney, and he could see figures
moving about in the yard. Because of the sun in his eyes he couldn't
tell if they were German troops or not. Off to the right he suddenly saw
a moving cloud of dust. He knew at once it was a car traveling along a
road. And presently the car came into view from behind a string of
trees. It traveled up to the farm house and came to a stop. Four
figures climbed out and hurried into the farm house. A faint hope that
had been flowering in Dave died out at once. His straining eyes had made
out the bucket shaped helmets and the tight-fitting field-grey uniforms
of German officers.
Approaching the farm house was out of the question, now. He had hoped
there might just be peasant farmers there, passed by by the Germans. But
that obviously wasn't so. The place was alive with Hitler's soldiers.
Fighting back his momentary defeat, he got slowly to his feet, took a
make-sure look at the sleeping Freddy Farmer, and then crept off into
the woods in search of a brook or a small pond.
Remembering his Boy Scout training, he broke branches off bushes every
now and then so that he would be sure to find his way back to the
sleeping Freddy. As a matter of fact, though, there really wasn't any
need of his doing that. At the end of a quarter of a mile the ground
sloped down into a shallow valley, and there was a small brook trickling
through the middle. With a low cry of joy Dave rushed down to it, flung
himself flat, and buried his face in the icy cold water. Never, never in
all his life had anything felt so good, so completely satisfying as the
coolness of that brook. Cupping his hands he drank until he couldn't
hold another drop. Then tearing off part of his shirt sleeve he used it
to wash his face and his neck. Finally, feeling almost like a new man,
he got up and retraced his steps to his hiding place.
Freddy was awake when he got back, and when the English youth spotted
him a look of fear and utter misery was instantly banished by joyful
relief.
"Phew, what a fright you gave me!" Freddy choked out. "When I woke up I
couldn't remember if we'd come to this spot together, or if we'd lost
each other last night. I came jolly close to yelling for you and then I
sighted those German blighters over at that farm house. Where have you
been, and I wonder where we are?"
"I wish I knew," Dave said. "But I've got some good news, anyway. Go
straight back about a quarter of a mile and you'll find a brook. Bet you
could do with a nice long drink of water, couldn't you?"
"I should say so!" Freddy cried and sprang to his feet. "My throat feels
completely filled up with dust."
"Then hop to it," Dave grinned and pointed. "Straight back. You'll see
branches broken off the bushes. I'll wait here and try to figure our
next move."
"Be right back," Freddy said and hurried off into the woods.
When the English youth left Dave sat down on the ground and fixed
frowning eyes on the farm house. Last night in that prison room his
brain had concentrated on but one problem. The problem of getting out of
the room. Well, they had done that, and they had put considerable
distance behind them. That was all, however. Now, there were more
problems to confront, and consider. Number one, was to find out where
they were. Number two, was to decide whether or not it was safe yet to
start heading west, or to continue north, and number three, was the
problem of food. Whether they went north, south, east, or west they had
a long road facing them, and their bread and cheese was not going to
last forever. They would have to get food some place. And that farm
house....
Dave let his thoughts trail off and stop as Freddy came up and sat down
beside him. The English boy looked like an entirely different person.
His eyes were clear and not heavy with fatigue. There was a lot of color
back in his face, and there was a happy and contented smile on his lips.
"I'll remember that brook all the rest of my life," he said. "Gee,
nothing ever seemed so good. Well, have you thought up a plan? I fancy,
though, we'd better stay here until it's dark. We're bound to be
stopped in daylight. That colonel chap has probably radioed a
description of us all over the place."
"Gee whiz, you think so?" Dave ejaculated. "Just to catch a couple of
fellows like us?"
"I fancy so," Freddy said in a sober adult voice. "He'll be hopping mad
that we escaped. And besides pricking his pride it will probably add to
his silly ideas about us. Yes, I think the blighter will go to all ends
to catch us. So, we'd better keep a watchful eye out even if we are in a
hurry. What do you make of that farm house?"
"I've been thinking about it," Dave grunted. "There are Germans there,
of course, but there must be food, too. If we could only manage to swipe
some food I'd feel a lot better about starting out again. It's going to
be a long walk, and it's a cinch we won't be able to do any hitch-hiking
with German tanks and armored cars all over the place."
"True," Freddy murmured. "But we might have to walk for days, and days.
Then the information we have might not be of any use to the Allied High
Command. We've got to get back quickly, Dave, and I'm afraid we can't do
that by walking all the way."
"No, I guess not," Dave said unhappily. "But we'd be taking a heck of a
chance trying to thumb a ride. Maybe, though, if we moved over close to
that road over there, an empty truck or something might come by and we
could slip aboard it for a little ways, anyway. Gosh, it seems a hundred
years since I left Paris!"
"Two hundred," Freddy said with a sigh. "I certainly never even dreamed
that anything like this would ever happen to me."
"Me, too," Dave said and gave a little half shake of his head. "Boy,
what I'll have to tell the fellows when I get back home!"
"We're not back home, yet," Freddy said grimly. "Let's talk some more
about what we should do."
It was as though Lady Luck or the Good Fairy had been waiting for that
exact moment. From up in the sky to the east came the throbbing drone of
a German plane. The two boys swiveled around at once, shielded their
eyes with their hands and peered upward. The plane was down fairly low
and coming straight toward them. A moment of panic seized hold of Dave
and he unconsciously grabbed hold of Freddy and pulled them both down
under the bushes.
"Gosh!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Maybe they've got planes out looking
for us. Don't move a muscle and they won't see us. Gee, it's a biplane,
but it's got the swastika marking on the tail. I thought all the German
ships were monoplane design."
Freddy didn't answer for a moment. He sat crouched low under the
protecting bush branches and squinting his eyes up at the plane.
"That's a German plane, right enough," he said presently. "I recognize
it, now. It's an Arado AR-95. It's a two seater, and was built as a
torpedo plane. They use it off airplane carriers, but it's a pretty old
type. Look, Dave! The pilot has cut his engine. He's gliding down. I
say, let's get out of here! The observer in back has probably spotted
us!"
"Now, wait!" Dave hissed and shot out a hand to stop Freddy from leaping
to his feet and dashing back into the woods. "If they have spotted us
we'd not get far before we'd be caught. Besides, I don't think they've
seen us. Look! He's going into a gliding turn. Freddy! I'll bet you a
million dollars he's going to land in that smooth field over there. Yes,
sir, that's what he's going to do!"
"You're right, Dave!" Freddy breathed. "And some of the Germans in that
farm house are running out to meet them. But I don't like this, Dave.
They may be landing to tell them where we are."
"Nope," Dave said doggedly. "They wouldn't land. They'd either drop a
message, or use their radio If they have one. They'd stay up to see
which way we headed. Nope. That's some kind of a headquarters over
there, Freddy. I bet the plane is bringing them a message."
"I hope you're right," Freddy said in an uncertain voice, as his clear
blue eyes clouded with doubt. "There! He's down on the ground, now, and
braking to a stop."
"That sure is a sweet looking ship!" Dave breathed softly. "An Arado
AR-95, huh? Oh, sure, now I remember seeing pictures of that design. It
has a B.M.W. radial engine. (_Bavarian Motor Works_). The Germans used
it a lot in training their pilots. It's not so fast as the other war
planes, and it's a cinch to fly, they say. _Freddy!_"
Dave almost shouted the name, and his fingers still gripping the English
youth's arm bit deep into the flesh.
"Ouch, my arm!" Freddy protested, "What's the matter, Dave? What's up?"
Dave didn't reply. He watched the German plane come to a stop. The pilot
and observer jumped down onto the ground and walked toward the group of
Germans advancing from the farm house. They met and appeared to talk for
a moment or two. Then all of them turned and went back to the farm
house. When they passed inside Dave took a quick look over at the Arado
with its prop ticking over, then swung around to face Freddy.
"Maybe that solves our problem, Freddy!" he said in a strained whisper.
"That plane!"
"The plane?" Freddy echoed with a frown. "What about it? Good grief, you
surely don't mean...."
"Why not?" Dave countered. "I made my first solo on a better ship than
that. I'll bet you anything you like I can handle it. What do you say,
Freddy?"
The English youth gulped and looked most undecided. Dave took the moment
of silence to press home his point.
"It's the best bet we could possibly have!" he argued. "Gee, in that
ship we could be behind the Allied defenses in no time. I say let's try
it, anyway. Gee whiz, Freddy, we might be stuck here for months. There's
no telling what we might run into. What do you say? Are you game to try
it with me?"
The English youth was already smiling and nodding his head.
"Right you are, Dave, I'm game," he said quietly. "Anything's better
than just sitting here. And between us we ought to make a go of it.
Right-o, Dave, if you like."
"That's the stuff!" Dave said and slapped him on the back. "They're all
inside the farm house now, and if we keep back of that field wall,
there, we can get right up close without being seen. When I give you the
sign, run like the dickens for the ship. Gee! We've got to make it,
Freddy. _We've just got to!_"
The two boys looked at each other, nodded, and then started crawling out
from under the bushes on all fours.
CHAPTER TEN
_Trapped In War Skies!_
Hugging the ground at the extreme end of the field wall, Dave and Freddy
stared at the German plane not thirty yards away. The idling propeller
filled the air with a purring sound that struck right to their hearts
and sent the blood surging through their veins in wild excitement. The
feeling of fatigue and body weariness had completely fled them, now. The
thrill of the dangerous adventure ahead filled them with a renewed sense
of strength, and fired them with grim determination.
Dave slowly rose up onto one knee like a track star on his mark at the
starting line. He cast a quick glance back over his shoulder at Freddy,
and nodded.
"Now!" he whispered sharply, and went streaking around the end of the
field wall.
He reached the plane a dozen steps ahead of the English boy, and
practically leaped into the pilot's cockpit forward. No sooner was he
seated and snapping the safety belt buckle than Freddy was scrambling
into the observer's cockpit.
"I'm in!" he heard the English youth sing out.
Shooting out a foot Dave kicked off the wheel brake release. Then he
grabbed hold of the "Dep" wheel control stick with his right hand and
reached for the throttle with his left and gingerly eased it forward.
The B.M.W. engine instantly started to roar up in a song of power. Dave
opened the throttle more and pushed the Dep stick forward to get the
tail up as the Arado started forward.
"Hurry up, Dave!" came Freddy's wild yell above the roar of the engine.
"They've seen us! They're running out of the house. They're shooting at
us with rifles, Dave!"
Freddy could have saved his breath on the last. The sharp bark of rifle
fire came plainly to Dave's ears as he hunched forward over the
controls. And almost in the same instant he heard the blood chilling
whine of nickel-jacketed lead messengers of death streaking past not
very high above his head. Impulsively he ducked lower in the pit, and
shoved the throttle wide open. The plane was already bouncing over the
ground on its wheels, with the tail up, and then added gas fed to the
engine caused the ship practically to leap forward like a high strung
race horse quitting the barrier.
The sudden burst of speed flung Dave back in the seat, and for one
horrible instant his hands were almost torn from the Dep wheel, and his
feet yanked free of the rudder pedals. He caught himself in the nick of
time, however, swerved the plane clear of a sudden dip in the surface of
the field, and then gently hauled the Dep wheel back toward his stomach.
For a long moment the wheels of the plane seemed to cling to the ground.
Then they lifted clear and the Arado went nosing up toward the golden
washed blue sky. Clamped air burst from Dave's lungs like an exploding
shell. He coughed, and shook sweat from his face, and held the ship at
the correct angle of climb. The engine in the nose sang such a sweet
song of power that for a moment or so it was in tune with the song of
wild joy in Dave's heart. The Arado, as he had rightly guessed, was a
cinch to handle. It was light as a feather and responded instantly to a
touch on the control wheel, or on the rudder pedals.
As the plane climbed upward he twisted around in the seat and looked at
Freddy. The English youth was staring down back at the field they had
just left. Dave followed his look and saw the twenty or thirty figures
garbed in German military uniforms on the field. At least half of them
were firing furiously with rifles. The others were shaking their fists,
and making angry gestures for the plane to return and land. Dave grinned
and shook his head.
"You can just bet we won't come back!" he shouted into the roar of the
engine. "We're not _that_ crazy!"
Freddy heard him and turned front. The English youth's eyes danced with
excitement. He grinned at Dave, and then suddenly seemed to remember the
little scene last night after Dave had removed the screws from the
window frame. He clasped both hands above his head and shook them
vigorously. His lips moved, and Dave just barely heard the words.
"Well done!"