"I've got to have lights or we'll go right into a shell hole. If you
hear something coming, yell, and I'll switch off these things."
"Right-o!" Freddy called wearily and stuck his head out the door window
and looked up. "All clear, now, though. None of the blighters near us. I
say, what's up, now?"
Dave didn't bother to answer. He, too, had spotted the waving flashlight
just up the road. He slipped the car out of gear, steered it around the
rim of a yawning bomb crater and let it roll to a stop. A British
infantry officer, with a Military Police band on his tunic sleeve, ran
up to Dave's side of the ambulance and flashed his light in Dave's eyes
for a second.
"Where are you headed, lad?" he asked.
"St. Omer," Dave said. "We've got the last load of wounded from the
Lille hospital."
"Well, you can't take them to St. Omer," the officer said. "A mile up
ahead there's a road to the right. Take it and keep going until you're
stopped. Whoever stops you will give you further directions. All right,
off with you. Good luck."
"But, hey, why not St. Omer?" Dave blurted out. "We've been taking them
there all day."
"I know," the officer said in a half angry and half bored voice. "But
they've all been evacuated again. To Dunkirk. Hitler's lads are in St.
Omer, now. Better hop it. They may be here, soon."
Dave slammed the ambulance into gear and started off. Raging anger
surged up within him. He gripped the bucking wheel until his hands hurt.
Nazis are here! Nazis are there! Nazis are every place! Even thinking of
the name made him want to start screaming and shouting at the top of his
voice. He turned his head slightly and took a quick side glance at
Freddy. The English youth's chin was firm, and there was the same
defiant look in his eyes. However, the droop of his shoulders spoke
plainly of the bitter thoughts that were sweeping through his mind.
Impulsively Dave let go a hand from the wheel for a second and slapped
Freddy on the knee.
"Don't let it get you down, Freddy," he said. "They'll trim the
stuffing out of Hitler before it's over."
"Of course," Freddy said in a heavy voice. "I wasn't thinking of that.
If we could only have reached General Caldwell sooner."
"Gosh, we did our best!" Dave exploded. "And, besides, the General told
us it helped plenty. Gee, I hope he just wasn't kidding us. I don't
think so, though. A man like General Caldwell doesn't kid, I bet. Well,
here's the road. Wonder where it'll take us."
They had reached the turn off. So had some Stukas a couple of hours
before and they had marked it well with a cluster of bomb craters. Dave
had to detour through a field to make the turn but he managed to get
back onto the road. To his vast relief he found it hardly touched by
bombs and he was able to speed up the ambulance. The good road helped
his spirits, too. It boosted them up considerably and a lot of his
fatigue fell away from him. The same was true with Freddy. The English
youth continued to stare fixedly through the windshield at the glow of
the headlights on the road, but his body seemed to straighten up, and
there was a less depressed air about him.
However, it was as though it all had been planned by the fates
controlling the war and the immediate destinies of these two brave
gallant youths. It was as though it was planned for them to be lifted
up in spirit, and in strength, so that they might have something left
with which to face the next misfortune of the conflict to befall them.
The first indication that there was more trouble ahead came as they
roared around a bend in the road, and then the road straightened out
like an arrow.
"My gosh, look!" Dave cried and pointed. "Like an earthquake had hit it
or something!"
Both sides of the road, as far as they could see in the glow of the
headlights, were strewn with heaped up piles of war equipment wreckage.
Guns from machine gun size to heavy howitzers lay scattered about.
Ammunition wagons were over on their sides, their contents spilled on
the ground like sand from a box. Shell blasted tanks rested in soft
ground at crazy angles, some of them blown wide open, and all of them of
no more use to anybody.
"Gosh, like driving through a junk yard!" Dave grunted and unconsciously
slowed down the ambulance. "What do you suppose happened? Gee, that's
English stuff, too. See the markings?"
"Yes," Freddy replied. "And I think I can guess what happened. A
retreating British column was caught here by the bombers, I think. You
can see where the craters were filled in so the rest of them could carry
on. What equipment they couldn't take, they destroyed so that the
Germans wouldn't get it. Look, Dave! There's another flashlight chap up
ahead. And he's English! I can see him clearly, now."
"Right," Dave nodded as he too caught sight of the khaki clad figure,
with an M.P. band on his arm, standing in the middle of the road.
He slipped the ambulance out of gear and let it roll to a stop and stuck
his head out the door window.
"We've got wounded here!" he said as the officer moved forward. "They
turned us off onto this road, back a few miles. Said the next officer we
met would give us instructions."
"More wounded?" the officer echoed in an exasperated voice. "I seriously
doubt if there'll be room. But get along. First turn left, and two miles
straight. A railroad junction there, and still working, I certainly
hope! They'll take your men. Now, chase along with you!"
"What happened here?" Dave asked and reached for the gear shift lever.
"The worst!" the officer snapped, and gestured with his hand. "Stukas
caught a whole battalion. Nasty business! Now, chase, do you hear?"
Dave didn't wait to argue about that. He sent the car rolling forward
and kept his eyes open for the turn to the left. He came to it presently
and turned off. It was also more or less untouched by bombs so he could
keep his speed steady. In almost no time they came upon a whole army of
British soldiers. They jammed the road and overflowed on both sides.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes were turned their way as their headlights cut
through the night. A soldier with sergeant's chevrons on his sleeves
rushed up to them.
"Shut off those blasted lights, you fool!" he roared. "You want the
Jerry planes to ... Good grief, a couple of _kids!_ What's this?"
"Ambulance with wounded from Lille, Sergeant," Freddy called out to him.
"The officer back there told us to take them to the rail junction. How
far is it?"
"Wounded, eh?" the sergeant grunted. "Well, that's a sight different.
Keep going. You're practically there, mates."
The sergeant stepped back and cupped big hands to his mouth.
"Make way!" he thundered at the road choked mass of British troops.
"Ambulance! Make way there, you chaps! Ambulance! Give them the horn,
lad. That'll make 'em jump."
The sergeant barked the last at Dave as the ambulance started forward.
Dave got the car in high then held his hand on the horn. Freddy got out
on the running board and started shouting, "Make way for an ambulance!"
at the top of his voice. For two or three awful seconds Dave was afraid
that the soldiers were going to refuse to move. But the shouted word,
"Ambulance!" finally did the trick. They shuffled off to both sides and
left a path down the middle of the road. Driving with one hand and
keeping his other on the horn, Dave steered the ambulance down that path
until a bomb shattered railroad bridge stopped him. There was no need of
going farther anyway.
They had reached the rail junction, or at least what was left of it.
Eastward from the bridge the track was just so much twisted steel, but
westward from the bridge it had not been touched, by some strange
miracle. There was a long train of some twenty cars on the track with an
engine at the far end. Dimmed lights were moving around all over the
place like fire-flies on a muggy night. The murmur of many voices filled
the air, and as Dave got his eyes accustomed to the scene he saw that
long lines of battle weary soldiers were climbing into the cars. And
then out of nowhere a squad of soldiers with white bands on their tunic
sleeves swooped down on the ambulance.
"Shut off your motor, mate!" a voice shouted. "You won't be needing it
any more. Step lively, you lads. Easy with the poor blighters, now.
That's the way."
Before Dave and Freddy could climb stiff legged down from the ambulance
the white banded group of soldiers had the rear doors open and were
gently but swiftly lifting out the wounded on stretchers and carrying
them to the train. Nobody talked. Even the wounded made no sound.
Everybody seemed to realize that all that counted was speed, and they
were concentrating on that alone. Dave watched for a minute or so and
then went up to the soldier who had given the orders.
"Where's the train going?" he asked.
"Dunkirk, unless the Jerry fliers stop us," the soldier replied without
looking at him. "Any more of these chaps coming along in back of you?"
"This is the last load from Lille," Dave said. "I don't know about any
others."
"Lille?" the soldier gasped and seemed startled. "I thought the Jerries
were there!"
"I fancy they are, now," Freddy spoke up. "I say, will there be room
enough for us on that train, do you think?"
"Always room for two more on anything," the soldier grunted and watched
the stretchers disappear into the maze of moving lights. "You chaps
just follow me, and I'll...."
The soldier never finished the rest of that sentence. At any rate, if he
did, the boys didn't hear him. At that moment there came the faint drone
of engines high in the sky and to the east. Instantly it seemed as
though a thousand men put whistles to their lips and all blew them at
the same time.
"Bombers!" roared one fog horn voice.
"Everybody aboard!" bellowed another.
"Never mind your kit, you men, get aboard!" thundered a third.
"All lights out!" a fourth voice carried above all the others.
In the wink of an eye the moving lights stopped moving and went out. All
was plunged into darkness. A darkness filled with grunting sounds on the
ground, and the throbbing beat of approaching airplanes overhead.
Instinctively Dave and Freddy grabbed hands and started moving toward
the train. No sooner had they taken a dozen steps than they ran smack
into a wall of solid flesh. They tried to force their way through but it
was as futile as trying to push a tidal wave to one side. They alone
were not the only ones trying to get aboard that train. A few hundred
others had the same idea.
Suddenly the shrill whistle of the engine cut through all other sound. A
moment later the angry roar from hundreds of throats told Dave and
Freddy that the train was moving. They stopped trying to push forward,
and simply stood there listening to the angry shouting of the troops who
could not get aboard, and the sound of the train as it picked up speed
and went racing off toward the east.
"Here they are! Everybody scatter!"
Perhaps it was the same fog horn voice, and perhaps it wasn't. Anyway,
everybody heard the command and started moving. A moment later the air
became filled with the howl of diving wings. Further orders were not
necessary. In a flash Dave thought of the bomb blasted bridge. The road
had once dipped down under it, but now it was no more than a cave made
out of jagged chunks of stone with twisted steel rails and splintered
ties for roof shingling. He grabbed Freddy by the arm and spun them both
around.
"That busted bridge!" he shouted in his friend's ear. "We can crawl down
under it. We should be safe."
"Just thinking of that, myself!" Freddy shouted back as they both broke
into a run. "Those blasted Stukas! Will we never hear the last of them!"
As though to punctuate that sentence the leading bomber swooped low,
dumped its load and went screaming up into the night sky. Its bomb
struck a hundred yards away but the concussion seemed to lift both of
the boys off their feet. It put wings on their feet as well. They dashed
madly through the roaring darkness, missed turned-over trucks and hunks
of the bombed station by inches, and finally scrambled down under the
bridge and into the cave-like hole blown out of one of the supporting
walls. They crawled back over the broken stones as far as they could and
sat huddled together listening to the world blow apart over their heads.
"Well, at least we got our load of wounded aboard!" Dave shouted as
there came a lull in the bedlam of thunderous sound. "That's something,
I guess."
"Yes, we didn't let them down," Freddy's voice came faintly. "Phew, but
I'm tired. Stukas or no Stukas, I don't think I can keep awake another
minute."
The words seemed to touch something inside Dave. He too became suddenly
listless in both mind and body. He felt Freddy sagged against him and he
battled to keep his eyes open; to keep a look-out in case they might
have to change their place of shelter. But ton weights hung on his eye
lids, and it was impossible to keep them open any longer. Above them
worlds exploded sound and flame. Underneath them worlds shook and
trembled as each devastating blow was struck. None of it, however,
reached the two boys. Young strong bodies had taken an awful beating for
hours on end, and they needed rest. Time might cease, and the world
could come to an end, but it would have no effect on Dave Dawson and
Freddy Farmer, for they were both sound asleep.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
_Thunder In The West_
The cold, clammy air of early dawn finally pried Dave's eye lids open
and brought him back to the conscious world. For a moment he stared
dully at the mass of grey shadows all around him. Then gradually he
realized that the shadows, most of them, were rocks and huge chunks of
cement, and that light was filtering down through cracks and holes
between them. That realization brought back memory of where he was. Then
swiftly followed recollection of all that had happened and why he was
there. He started to get to his feet, and his movements awakened Freddy
Farmer slumped against him. The English youth groaned, opened his eyes
and stared blankly around for a moment. Then they cleared as fragments
of memory came racing back to him, too. He sat up and gingerly flexed
his arms and legs.
"Gee, it's morning!" he exclaimed.
"And the Stukas have gone, thank goodness," Dave said. "Lets get out of
here. Maybe the train's back and we can get aboard it this time. Gosh!
I'm stiff as a board."
"I can hardly move!" Freddy moaned and got slowly to his feet. "Man, I
never thought a chap could fall asleep while bombs were falling. My
father told me that he once slept through a ten hour bombardment in
front of Amiens, in Nineteen Seventeen. I aways thought he was pulling
my leg, but now blessed if I don't believe him. I say, what's that?"
Dave cocked his head and listened to the sudden strange sound.
"Troops marching!" he breathed. "That's what it is. Troops marching. The
train must be back. Come on, Freddy!"
Dave scrambled forward and started crawling up out of the cave and
between the rocks to firm ground. He suddenly stopped short as he
glanced through a crack that gave him a clear view of the road that ran
along in back of the bomb shattered station. His heart leaped up into
his throat, and for a second or two he couldn't utter a word. Freddy,
scrambling up behind, bumped into him and started an exclamation. Dave
whirled and put a silencing hand to his lips.
"Pipe down!" he hissed. "Freddy! For gosh sakes, take a look through
that crack. Gee! What do you know about that?"
The English youth squirmed past him and peered out through the crack.
His young body stiffened, and there was the sharp sound of sucking air
into his lungs. He turned around and stared wide eyed at Dave and licked
his lower lip.
"Germans!" he whispered. "The beggars are all over the place. We've been
left behind, Dave. Our boys must have moved on when the Stukas went
away. But we were asleep."
"Yeah, I guess that was it," Dave said and nodded. "Holy smokes, Freddy,
what shall we do?"
"I don't know, except to stay where we are," the English youth replied
in a tight voice. "If we show our heads they're sure to grab us. There
must be thousands of them!"
"Millions, it looks like!" Dave said with a gulp. "Yes, the best thing
to do is stay right here and hope they don't find us. Maybe they'll move
off after awhile, then we can beat it. Gosh! I had all I want of a being
a German prisoner. Sure, let's stay right here."
"At least we won't starve, no matter how long they take marching
through," Freddy said. "We both have plenty of chocolate bars we got at
the hospital. And I didn't have to give any of the water in my canteen
to the wounded I carried. Did you?"
"Not a drop, it's full," Dave said, and patted the canteen at the end of
the strap hooked over his shoulder. "You're right, we won't go hungry or
thirsty. But gosh, I hope they don't stick around too long, or we'll
never get out of this place. Maybe we were crazy to duck in here, huh?"
"And maybe we would have been crazier to have gone some place else,"
Freddy murmured and pulled a bar of chocolate from his pocket. "At least
no bombs hit us here."
"That's right," Dave agreed. Then with a stiff grin, "And it's a cinch
that none are going to hit us, either, while those Germans are out
there. But I sure hope all those British troops got away. I guess they
did, though, or we'd hear fighting right now. Gee! Can you beat it?"
"Beat what?" Freddy asked through a mouthful of crunched chocolate bar.
"What's the matter?"
"I was just thinking, and maybe it isn't so funny," Dave said. "We sort
of started all this business behind the German lines, and here we are
again. I sure hope we don't end it that way! Wonder how long we'll have
to wait? Until it's dark, I guess."
Freddy didn't answer. He crawled up the stones and peered through the
crack again. When he came down his dust and dirt smeared face looked
most unhappy.
"Until it's dark, at least," he said with a sad shake of his head. "And
more war music, too. I just saw them wheeling some guns into position in
back of the railroad station. Yes, I'm afraid the blasted beggars are
planning to stay here a bit, too."
"Well, when it gets dark we get out of here," Dave said grimly. "Guns or
no guns."
"You bet," Freddy said and fell silent.
As though their silence was a signal to the gunners above, the earth and
the sky once more began to shake and tremble as the gun muzzles belched
out their sheets of flame and steel-clad missiles of death and
destruction that went screaming far off to the east. To get away from
the shuddering, hammering pounding as much as possible, the two boys
crawled far back into the wall cave and tried to make themselves
comfortable.
Seconds clicked by to add up to minutes, and minutes ticked by to add up
to an hour. Then eventually it was two hours, then three, then four. And
still the guns hammered and snarled and pounded away at their distant
objectives. It seemed as though it would never end. Try as they did to
steel themselves against the perpetual thunder, and the constant shaking
and heaving of the earth under them, it was right there with them every
second of the time. Their eardrums ached, and seemed ready to snap
apart. They tore off little pieces of their shirts and used them as
plugs to stuff in their ears. That helped some, but it made speech
between them impossible.
Roaring, barking thunder all morning, and all afternoon. But along
toward evening it died down considerably. And when the shadows of night
started creeping up it ceased altogether. The two boys crawled forward
and up the bomb-made rock steps and peered through the crack between the
stones. The hopes that had been born in them when the guns stopped
seemed to explode in their brains. The guns were not being hooked onto
the tractors. Nor were the swarms of troops climbing into the long lines
of motorized Panzer trucks. On the contrary, mess wagons were being
rolled forward, and flare lights were being set about all over the
place. Even as Dave and Freddy crouched there watching with sinking
spirits two flare lights sputtered into being directly above their
heads. With sudden terror gripping their hearts they scuttled back deep
into their hiding place.
"No soap, I guess," Dave said bitterly. "We'd stick out like a couple of
sore thumbs. What do you think, Freddy?"
"The same as you," the English youth said unhappily. "We'd be fools to
budge an inch. I most certainly wish we had blankets. These are the
hardest rocks I ever felt."
"You said it," Dave muttered and ran his hand over the hard surface that
was unquestionably going to serve as his bed for another night of
terror. "Maybe, though, they'll pull out before dawn. Or maybe in the
morning, for sure."
If the gods of war heard Dave Dawson's words they must have laughed loud
and with fiendish glee, for they knew how false his hopes were. The
Germans did not leave during the night. Nor did they leave in the
morning. As soon as it was dawn they started their devastating
bombardment again. And for another whole day the boys huddled together
in their hiding place and struggled with every bit of their will power
to stop from going stark, raving mad from the thunder of the guns.
Then, suddenly, when there was still an hour of daylight left, the guns
went silent for keeps, and instead there were all kinds of sounds of
feverish activity. Harsh orders flew thick and fast. Men shouted and
cursed. Tractor engines roared into life. Truck transport gears were
meshed in nerve rasping grinding sound, and as the boys watched through
their look-out crack they saw the Germans move slowly off down a road
leading toward the southwest. Neither of them spoke until the last truck
had passed out of view. And by then it was pitch dark, save for a
shimmering red glow to the east and to the south.
"Boy, I thought it would never happen!" Dave said in a shaky voice.
"Come on! Let's get going before others arrive here. Which way do you
think we'd better head?"
"The railroad track, I think," Freddy said after a moment of silence.
"It must have been blown all to bits by those Stukas, or else there
would have been a train come up to take those Germans away. Instead,
though, they headed down the road to the southwest."
"Check," Dave said. "And that track is supposed to lead to Dunkirk.
Gosh, I hope the British are still there."
"They must be there," Freddy said firmly. "You can still hear the guns
up ahead, so there must be somebody besides Germans around. I say, look
at that fog, or is it fog? Yes, it is. And it's beginning to rain, too.
Well, thank goodness for that. We won't be seen or heard so easily.
Right-o, Dave. Let's get on with it. Like the chaps in the R.A.F. say,
Tally-ho!"
"Tally-ho!" Dave echoed happily and started scrambling up out of the
cave.
Walking side by side, and gripping hands to hold up the other fellow in
case he slipped and started tumbling into a bomb crater, the two boys
struck out boldly along the single line of track. Before they had
traveled a hundred yards the railroad tracks stopped being what they
were supposed to be. They became a long stretch of twisted steel and
pulverized ties. But though the road bed was constantly pock marked with
bomb craters it served as a guide eastward for their crunching
footsteps.
Layers of fog came rolling in from the east, and with every step a fine
chilling rain sprayed down upon them. But rather than being annoyed and
uncomfortable, they were buoyed up by the miserable weather. It gave
them added protection from any German patrols in the neighborhood. It
hid them from the rest of the world of dull constant sound, and the
shimmering glow of red to the east and to the south. There was more
sound, and a more brilliant glow of red to the south, and as they heard
it and saw it their hearts became even lighter. If there was all that
sound to the south it must mean that the Germans had not been able to
cut off the retreating armies at Dunkirk. And of course that was true,
for as they trudged and stumbled along the bomb blasted strip of spur
railroad track some fifty thousand do or die British soldiers were
holding back the savagely attacking German hordes at Douai, and at the
Canal de Bergues, so that some three hundred and thirty thousand of
their comrades might escape the trap from Dunkirk and reach England in
safety.