"Just in case something pops around here, von Staube and von Gault are
making sure they'll get out fast. Makes Nazi generals sore as the
dickens to get killed, you know. Can't strut any more, or order women
and children hostages shot, or have any kind of fun. They--Jeepers! Holy
smokes! That's an idea!"
"What?" Freddy demanded. "Shooting women and children hostages, and--"
"No, heck no!" Dave shot at him as they moved along toward the west side
of the field. "Just had a sudden idea. But I've got to mull over it a
little before it would make sense. And speaking of sense, good sense--"
"Is there a place for that sort of thing, now?" Freddy asked in a bitter
voice.
"Darned right there is!" Dave said. "Let's use our heads before we lose
them. Beginning with now, pal, we don't know a word of the English
language. We talk strictly German from here in. Right?"
"Absolutely!" Freddy gasped. "Stupid of us, of course. Right you are,
_mein Herr_! German it shall be."
The two air aces lapsed into thoughtful silence, and walked along the
edge of the small field, and around the west side toward the cluster of
Headquarters buildings. With every step he took Dave's heart was up in
his throat, and pounding furiously. They were beginning to meet German
soldiers and officers now, and he was filled with the gnawing fear that
they would be stopped and challenged. After all, even the boastful,
cocksure Nazis don't allow everybody to wander about an H.Q. location.
It so happened, though, that they were not challenged once. Those they
met either believed they had a perfect right to be strolling along, or
else they were too busy with their own thoughts to notice them. Anyway,
they were able to keep right on going, and eventually were part of a
group of Germans gathered in front of the center building in the
cluster. They stood close together and listened intently to the flow of
excited conversation. And what they heard brought happiness to their
aching hearts, and made them thrill with pride clear down to the soles
of their boots. Obviously the United Nations Commando attack was going
very badly for the Nazis. Practically all of Le Havre was in Commando
hands. Nazi fortifications there, U-boat repair docks, and stores of
Nazi military equipment had been blown sky high. And the Commandos were
spreading out to the north, south, and east like the unleashed waters of
a flood tide. In addition Nazi air strength had been more or less
bottled up and securely corked. Those cursed American bombers! Flying
Fortresses, they were called. Nothing seemed able to shoot them out of
the air! And their bombs? Something terrible!
It went on and on like that. And Dave and Freddy had all they could do
to force grave, worried looks to their faces, when instead they wanted
to dance and shout with joy. But though the group of Nazis were worried,
and plenty, over the way things were going, they still had that blind
dog-like faith in their high ranking officers. From a score of lips Dave
and Freddy heard statements that the enemy gains were only temporary at
the most. That von Staube and von Gault were simply biding their time,
and would strike their counter blows soon. Yes, von Staube had called up
powerful reenforcements. They were now on the way to the zone of battle.
And von Gault was massing powerful air squadrons, all types. _Ja, ja!_
Germany's swine enemies were fools to believe that _Der Fuehrer_ had
sent most of Germany's air power to the Russian front. The cursed
United Nations forces would soon realize that, as German bombs blew them
clear out into the Channel. But of course! Ah! Look! Here comes another
courier plane. It is probably good news this time! Yes! See how fast he
lands! He must have good news this time, and be eager to report it.
Dave and Freddy watched with the others as another Arado plane came
streaking down to a fast landing, and taxied up close at quite a bit of
throttle. A figure leaped from the rear cockpit and went dashing in
through the door of the center building. Dave and Freddy crowded over to
the door with the others. Unfortunately, though, it was slammed shut in
their faces. The Germans outside looked sheepishly at each other and
moved away a little. Dave and Freddy played their part in the general
scene and started to edge around to a point where they might get a quick
look in through one of the side windows of the building. After all, they
didn't know _for sure_ that von Staube and von Gault were inside. They
were actually only assuming; taking it for granted that such was the
case.
And so, as though by unspoken but mutual agreement, they began to edge
away from the general throng and round to the side of the building. But
they had barely reached the corner when suddenly a wicked-looking Nazi
Major loomed up before them to bar the way. Dave's heart skipped a beat,
and when he took a good look at the German his heart skipped a couple of
more beats and started sliding down in the general direction of his
boots. The Nazi, by the insignia on his tunic, belonged to the same
regiment that Dave and Freddy were supposed to belong to. Was there any
reason why a Major shouldn't be able to recognize two of his junior
officers? There was none, of course. And Dave felt as though he were
staring certain death right in the face.
"What are you two doing here?" The words came out like pistol shots.
"Did _Herr_ Colonel send you? A message for me, perhaps? I am needed
back there? I don't know you, so you must be two of those new officers
they sent us yesterday. Your names?"
"_Ober-Leutnants_ Kloss and Mueller, Herr Major," Dave heard his voice
say. Then wildly grasping at a straw of hope, he went on, "That is true,
sir. _Herr_ Colonel sent us with his compliments. He wishes that you
return as fast as possible."
The Nazi Major scowled and looked terribly angry, and for a long second
the whole world seemed to stand dead still for Dave. He felt as if he
were walking along a tightrope over a yawning chasm. Only there wasn't
any tightrope there. Somebody had yanked it away, and he was simply
hovering in mid-air before he went crashing down to his doom. The very
next words that came from the Nazi Major's lips might well spell doom
for Freddy and for himself. If the Nazi asked questions they couldn't
answer--if--
"Very well!" The words were suddenly barked out. "I will do as the
Colonel wishes. You two remain here, however. Take this report and see
that it is delivered to Field Marshal von Staube the instant he is free
to see you. He knows that I am waiting. You will explain that I was
needed at the regiment's Headquarters. Simply give him the report, and
then return to your posts as fast as possible. This is not a leave you
are on, you know. Well? Did they not teach you to salute your superiors
at that officer's school? They are sending us mere _children_ these
days!"
The Major had jerked a sealed envelope from his tunic pocket, thrust it
into Dave's hands, and was standing there glaring at them both. With a
tremendous effort Dave and Freddy snapped out of it, clicked their
heels, and almost tore their arms off saluting. The Nazi grunted, glared
some more, and then went strutting off bellowing a name. The name of his
chauffeur, probably.
For a minute longer the two boys just stood there as though their boots
were nailed to the ground. Then they turned and stared at each other,
neither quite sure that he wasn't just asleep and going through a crazy
dream.
"Don't ever hope for luck again!" Dave finally broke the silence. "We've
played out our string, Freddy. Nothing that ever happens from now on
could possibly top this. My gosh, my gosh! I'm soaking wet with my own
sweat. I thought I was going to fall into a fear faint for sure. And my
hair is pure white, isn't it?"
"Grab hold of me, Dave, and hang on hard!" Freddy said hoarsely. "I'm
afraid I'll start running and keep running until I'm miles from this
spot. Good grief, what luck! All we have to do is wait a bit, and then
get invited right in there with them."
"Sure!" Dave muttered. "And then what, pal?"
A lot of the happiness drained right out of Freddy Farmer's face. He
slowly sucked air into his lungs, and then promptly sighed heavily.
"Quite!" he murmured. "And then what? The beggars will no doubt have
others in there with them. And what in the world can we do about it?"
"I don't know, yet," Dave grunted. "But--but we've got to do something,
even if it's letting them have it in cold blood, Freddy. Major Barber
wants them kidnapped, but--"
Dave finished the rest with a shrug and a gesture of his hands. Freddy
Farmer made a wry face and swallowed quickly a couple of times.
"Yes, of course!" he got out with an effort. "It's war, and war's a
beastly business. Still--"
"Me, too, pal," Dave said softly. "I hope with all my heart and soul we
can figure some way. But one thing we're pledged to as loyal Commandos,
Freddy. Those two go out of the war picture today, one way--or another."
Freddy Farmer didn't make any comment. He simply looked Dave in the eye,
and nodded silently.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
_Eagles' Courage_
"If we have to wait any longer, Dave, I swear I'll fly apart in small
pieces. This blasted suspense is getting me down something awful!"
Dave grinned at his English pal, and gave him a comforting nudge with
his elbow.
"That makes two of us," he whispered. "But it's been only fifteen
minutes, you know."
"Fifteen years!" Freddy corrected. "And look at that sun coming up! The
more light around here, the tougher it's going to be for us, you know."
"You're telling me?" Dave murmured, and squinted at the first rays of
dawn light stealing westward across the face of that part of France.
"Swiping one of those Nazi planes in the dark is hard enough. But in
broad daylight--well, let's not think about that little item. I sure
wish, though, that--"
Dave never finished the rest of that statement. At that moment the door
of the center building was jerked open and a fashion plate uniformed
Nazi Staff Captain stood framed in the doorway. He swept black,
cruel-looking eyes over the officers and men grouped about, and scowled
angrily.
"_Herr_ Major von Kummil!" he cried out in a rasping voice. "_Herr_
Major von Kummil! Are you out here? _Herr_ Field Marshal wants you at
once!"
As the Nazi barked the words he jerked his head from side to side like a
spectator watching the flight of the ball in a tennis match. Dave
hesitated, then nudged Freddy Farmer.
"I think that means us," he whispered. "That's probably the Major who
told us to wait. We've got to chance it, anyway. Right?"
The English youth simply nodded, and started pushing through the group
outside the door. Dave was right at his heels. They stopped a few steps
from the black-eyed captain, and saluted.
_"Herr_ Major von Kummil was recalled to regimental Headquarters by
_Herr_ Colonel," Freddy spoke up in perfect German. "He instructed us to
wait for _Herr_ Field Marshal's pleasure."
The Nazi Captain stared down at them as though they were something the
cat had dragged in. Then, as his gaze fell on the sealed envelope Dave
held in his hand, his eyes took on a bright gleam. But Dave beat him to
the punch.
"Our instructions were to deliver this in person, _Herr_ Captain," Dave
said.
"That is true," Freddy echoed. Then he suddenly added, "And besides,
_Herr_ Captain, I have been ordered to make my own report by word of
mouth. It is impossible to put it in writing."
For a split second Dave thought that Freddy's words were simply to make
sure that they both were admitted inside. But as he flashed a quick look
at his pal and saw the odd look on Freddy's face, his heart looped over
and the blood started to pound through his veins. Freddy was up to just
more than getting inside that Headquarters building! There was something
much, much more important than just that, in Freddy's head. Dave had
only time for a quick look, but it was enough to tell him that Freddy
was up to something.
"So?" the Nazi Captain suddenly got out in a sneering tone. "Very well,
then. Come in, both of you. But do not be too long. Say what you have to
say, and don't waste words, you understand?"
Dave nodded meekly, but trust Freddy Farmer to have his little final
say! Freddy coldly returned the senior officer's looks, and then put
just the faintest touch of sarcasm in his reply.
"But certainly not, _Herr_ Captain!" he said. "It is not for me to add
to _Der Fuehrer's_ orders!"
"_Der Fuehrer?_" the Nazi Captain gasped, and stood there with his black
eyes popping, and his bird-like mouth hanging open.
Freddy let it go at that. He nodded to Dave and then calmly led the way
past the gaping Captain and in through the door. By the time they were
inside a short narrow hallway, the Nazi had collected his wits.
"This way," he said, and led them down the hallway, and through double
doors that opened off the right.
For some crazy reason the first thing that came to Dave's brain as he
was ushered into a fairly big room was the quite unimportant realization
that Freddy and he had actually been edging toward the wrong side of the
building when they had bumped into that Nazi Major. They would
undoubtedly have gained nothing had they been able to peek through the
windows on that side.
That thought came and went, and then he was taking notice of other
things that really were important. The room was exactly like other Nazi
military Headquarters he had seen during his war career. Maps covered
with little colored flags. A bank of field phones. Shortwave radio sets.
Memos, dispatches, letters and any number of other kinds of military
papers scattered all over the place. But the main attraction, of course,
was the huge double desk at which sat the two Nazi high rankers who had
been personally responsible for ninety per cent of Adolf Hitler's blood
triumphs to date.
On one side was Field Marshal von Staube, lumpy, beefy, with a sweating
red face, bald head, and neck the thickness of a telephone pole. And on
the other side sat Luftwaffe Marshal von Gault, looking like a half
starved vulture about to strike. His cruel, hawkish face was absolutely
blood chilling to behold, and it was all Dave could do to suppress the
shudder that started through him. The Number One and Number Two killers
of the Third Reich. Adolf Hitler's two butchers. Himmler, of the
infamous Gestapo, acted like a sweet little old lady when his acts were
compared with the killing and plunder performed under the command of
these two.
Dave looked at them, and his hand twitched as he had the sudden desire
to go for the small but deadly automatic he carried in his tunic pocket.
Neither Freddy nor he wanted to end it that way. But they would be true
to their mutual vow. Though it cost them all the torture the Nazis could
inflict upon them, today would be the last day of war for Field Marshal
von Staube and Luftwaffe Marshal von Gault. These two would never--
"Well, have you lost your tongues? What are you here for? Where is your
Major von Kummil? Speak up! Can you two young fools not see that I am
busy?"
It was von Staube who spoke the words. Yet that is not quite right. He
did not exactly speak them. His voice sounded more like an express train
going through a tunnel. Dave stepped quickly forward, saluted with one
hand, and held out the sealed envelope with the other.
"_Herr_ Major von Kummil was recalled, _Herr_ Field Marshal," he said.
"We were intrusted to deliver this to you."
The German high ranker growled in his throat, snatched the envelope from
Dave's hand, stabbed a thick finger under the flap opening and ripped
viciously. He took out a fold of papers inside, glanced through them
quickly, and then hurled the lot down on the desk.
"Fools!" he thundered. "Swine stupid fools! To tell me this by courier,
when it could have been spoken over the telephone an hour ago! What do I
care about the condition of your reserves? Should I tell the enemy to
wait until we are ready to give them battle? Should I sit here and wait
until arms and battle equipment have been issued to every German
soldier. _Mein Herr!_ What am I commanding? German armies or packs of
fools?"
The German bellowed the questions straight at Dave, and pounded his fat
fists on the desk. Beads of sweat flew from his face, and his color
mounted to where it seemed impossible that he wouldn't explode in small
pieces in the next instant. Dave tried to think of something to say, but
the German seemed not to want answers to his questions. He probably
didn't even realize that he was looking straight at Dave. He was too
busy with thoughts about something, some part of his plans, that had
gone higher than a kite.
"Fools, stupid dogs!" he went right on roaring. "I order something, and
I get nothing but words by courier! Well, we shall see about that. We
shall see. There'll be a few swine heads fall before this day is done.
And they will not all belong to our enemies. The--"
Words failed the big fat German Field Marshal. He dropped back into his
desk chair mumbling and gurgling sounds that didn't make any sense. Dave
noticed that von Gault was watching von Staube closely, but there was
just a shade of worry in the Luftwaffe Marshal's cruel eyes. Perhaps von
Gault had gone through this thing before, with disastrous results to
himself. After all, von Staube was Number _One_. Anyway, the Luftwaffe
Marshal was watching his partner in world wide crime closely, and was
not looking at all happy.
Suddenly, though, as if a completely different person had sat down in
Field Marshal von Staube's chair, the red rage faded from the German's
face. He picked up the scattered papers and gave them another look. He
scowled, tugged at his lower lip, and massaged his fat chin a little.
Then he raised his eyes to von Gault's face.
"Perhaps it will not alter things much," he said. "Von Alder is not one
to depend on, anyway. We will use the Sixth, Tenth, and Fourteenth,
instead. All seasoned troops. They will probably do the job much better,
anyway. But that von Alder. That one! How he will hear of this!"
The German Field Marshal checked himself as though suddenly realizing
that Dave and Freddy were still standing there. He turned and gave them
a curt nod.
"Return to your regiment!" he growled.
Dave started to salute and turn to leave, suddenly thankful of the
chance to get out of there, and fast. But he didn't go all the way
around. First he saw Freddy Farmer still standing at stiff attention.
And next he saw the Nazi Captain's black eyes fixed steadfastly and
questioningly on the English youth. It was then Dave remembered Freddy's
crazy remark to the Captain. His heart stood still, and he impulsively
moved his hand a little so that he could get at his pocketed gun that
much quicker. Was this the show-down? Was Freddy going to make this the
show-down? Would both of them have to blaze away in cold murder--Nazi
style?
It seemed to Dave that he lived a thousand years standing there half
turned to go out the door. Then von Staube's booming voice exploded
through the silence.
"Didn't you hear my orders?" he thundered at the motionless Freddy.
"Return to your regiment!"
"Your pardon, _Herr_ Field Marshal," the English youth spoke up bold as
brass, while ice formed about Dave's heart. "I have a report of my own.
It has nothing to do with this other thing. May I ask, _Herr_ Field
Marshal, if your _pilots_ have reported to you?"
Stunned silence spread over the room like a thick heavy blanket. Both
von Staube and von Gault stiffened. So did the black-eyed Captain. As a
matter of fact, so did Dave Dawson. And he was suddenly filled with the
wild desire to catch up Freddy, and sling him over his shoulder, and
make a dash for it. Freddy had gone nuts! Maybe a blow on the head when
he had taken care of that Nazi soldier back by the shelled church. But
Freddy was definitely off his trolley! What in the world did he think he
was saying?
"My pilots reported to us?" Field Marshal von Staube echoed. "Of course.
Why? Why do you want to know?"
For a second or so Freddy just looked at the German, then switched his
gaze to von Gault.
"You know them all personally, _Herr_ Luftwaffe Marshal?" he shot out
the question. "You selected them, perhaps?"
The Luftwaffe Marshal looked angry, baffled, and just a little scared.
He wet his lips a couple of times before he spoke. And when he did his
voice was high and strained, as though it were an effort to get the
words out.
"_Herr_ Captain Kohle and _Leutnant_ von Stebbins have been the two
stationed here for weeks," he replied. "Of course I know them! Of course
I appointed them as Headquarters pilots. What is the meaning of this?"
"A precaution," Freddy answered quietly. "_Der Fuehrer's_ orders, at
_Herr_ Himmler's request. It is the Gestapo's eternal job to safeguard
the lives of Germans valuable to the Third Reich!"
"_Gestapo?_" Field Marshal von Staube practically blew up with wrath.
"_This_ is a war zone. This is _Army_ Headquarters. It is for the cursed
Gestapo to--!"
The German stumbled to a stop, and just sat glaring at Freddy Farmer,
and drumming his fingertips on the desk. For a split second Dave almost
wanted to laugh out loud. If all this wasn't so deadly serious, it would
be funny. The German Army Staff and Himmler's Gestapo were like two
tomcats on a back yard fence. They hated each other, but each knew that
the other was very necessary to the German Reich. But of the two it was
the German Army Staff who feared the most. Himmler had the inside track
with Hitler. He had the _Fuehrer's_ ear. And more than one German Staff
head had gone rolling into the basket because that high ranker had tried
to freeze out _Herr_ Himmler. No, the German Army Staff didn't like the
Gestapo one bit, but there was little they could do about it, yet. Just
as long as _Herr_ Himmler held Adolf Hitler's trust and confidence, it
was well for the generals to watch their step!
And so Field Marshal von Staube choked off what he would like to have
said, and just glowered and glared at Freddy.
"So, Gestapo, eh?" he suddenly blurted out with a sneer he couldn't hold
back. "I suppose you suspect that spies are members of my Staff, eh?"
But Freddy didn't walk into the trap. He knew perfectly well that a
Gestapo member as young as he looked wouldn't know _too_ much.
"_I_ suspect no one, _Herr_ Field Marshal," he said with stiff
respectfulness. "I have only been given my orders to carry out. If you
wish to complain to _Herr_ Himmler? There is the phone. He is in his
Berlin Headquarters now."
Dave held his breath. Was Freddy begging for death? He must be mad. He
_was_ mad! What in thunderation was he trying to pull off? What did
Freddy think all this insane business was going to get them? Dave didn't
have the ghost of an idea. But whatever it was, it was all Freddy's
party now. Dave didn't dare speak a word, or do anything. But when he
glanced at his pal and saw the typical cold haughtiness of the Gestapo
that seemed to surround the English youth, a wild thrill raced through
him. Perhaps--just perhaps--Freddy wasn't out of his mind. Maybe he did
have something by the tail.
At any rate, the bluff worked. Field Marshal von Staube made no move to
reach for one of the many phones. And Dave felt a little as though he
had been reborn. No, not reborn. More like a condemned man who has
received a stay of execution.
"I will make my complaints at the right time, and in the right places!"
the German Field Marshal suddenly boomed. "Well? What _is_ your mission
here, anyway? What about _Herr_ Luftwaffe Marshal von Gault's pilots?
What about them?"
Freddy Farmer made as though to reach into his upper left tunic pocket,
but seemed to change his mind.
"Perhaps nothing, _Herr_ Field Marshal," he said evenly. "However, there
are one or two questions I should like to ask _Herr_ Captain Kohle and
_Herr Leutnant_ von Stebbins. In your presence, of course, sir. And
yours, too, _Herr_ Luftwaffe Marshal von Gault. This much I can say. If
they speak the truth, their answers to my questions may be very
interesting, and enlightening."
Von Staube scowled still more deeply, drummed his fingers on the desk
some more, and then looked across at von Gault. He seemed to see
something in the other's eyes, though von Gault didn't nod or shake his
head.