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 started
wheeling 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 the Sergeant. 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 was something 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 up _eight days_ later, and
gosh knows _how_ far 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.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
_Belgium Gives Up!_
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 as though 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. "And the 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 Germans _planned_ to do. We saw them _do_ it!
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 at all."
"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 open mouthed, 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 their information. 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 of misery 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 officer said. "And it puts me in a
_very_ tight 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? You _do_ feel 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 there _is_ something 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, _must_ help."
"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!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
_Fate Laughs At Last_
"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 the Lille 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 as driving 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.