Add files from ibiblio as of 2025-03-08 11:02:29HEADmain

1 files changed, 5289 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/41715-0.txt b/41715-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..baba95c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/41715-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5289 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41715 ***
+
+                     DAVE DAWSON WITH THE R.A.F.
+
+                        _by_ R. SIDNEY BOWEN
+
+              _Author of_ "DAVE DAWSON AT DUNKIRK"
+
+                      THE WAR ADVENTURE SERIES
+
+    [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence
+    that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
+    AKRON, OHIO     NEW YORK
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1941, BY CROWN PUBLISHERS
+    PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+                     _THE WAR ADVENTURE BOOKS_
+
+     Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer are the youngest licensed pilots of
+     the R.A.F. Thrills aplenty are in store for them as they bag German
+     plane after German plane in a series of dare-devil maneuvers.
+     Dropped by parachute into Belgium, deep in Nazi-occupied territory,
+     on a dangerous spy mission, they escape at the risk of their lives
+     with the secret information which enables England to foil the
+     planned German invasion. A fast-moving, pulse-quickening narrative!
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                        PAGE
+
+        I TWO JUNKERS LESS!                                9
+
+       II MYSTERIOUS ORDERS                               24
+
+      III NIGHT RAID                                      34
+
+       IV NAZI WINGS OVER LONDON                          47
+
+        V AIR VICE-MARSHAL SAUNDERS                       68
+
+       VI ENGLAND MUST NEVER DIE                          84
+
+      VII BRAVE WINGS FLY EASTWARD                       101
+
+     VIII TERROR RIDES THE NIGHT SKY                     115
+
+       IX IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY                         128
+
+        X TRAPPED!                                       141
+
+       XI FLIGHT FROM NAZI GUNS                          157
+
+      XII QUICK THINKING                                 175
+
+     XIII SIXTEEN RUE CHARTRES                           194
+
+      XIV PIERRE DESCHAUD SPEAKS                         210
+
+       XV DANGER IN THE DARK                             223
+
+      XVI WINGS OF THE R.A.F.                            237
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE
+
+_Two Junkers Less!_
+
+
+Dave Dawson lay on his back, fingers laced behind his head for a pillow,
+and lazily watched white patches of cloud play tag with each other at
+some eighteen thousand feet over England. It was the tenth day of
+September, 1940, and the most glorious summer the British had
+experienced in forty years was still very much in evidence. The sun was
+a brassy ball in the heavens that flooded the earth with a warm
+comforting glow. The birds, the bees, and the butterflies were all
+around. And the emerald green of the surrounding landscape gave him the
+feeling that the snow and the cold of winter were two things that would
+never be experienced in England again.
+
+A perfect summer day! The warm sun, the singing birds, the flowers in
+bloom--and the war! Twenty miles across the English Channel, less than
+three minutes by air, Nazi hordes were working day and night toward that
+great moment when their leader, Adolf Hitler, would give them the order
+to begin their attempted invasion of England. And on this side of that
+Channel some forty odd millions of people were also working day and
+night so that when the order was given, not a single German booted foot
+would succeed in touching English soil. A beautiful summer day, and the
+people of the greatest empire on earth were waiting, ready to fight and
+die to the last man that their empire might continue to survive.
+
+"Well, Pilot Officer Dave Dawson, of His Majesty's Royal Air Force," a
+voice suddenly spoke in Dave's ear, "I'll give you a penny for your
+thoughts. No, wait, let me guess. You were thinking about your home in
+Boston, Massachusetts, back in the States?"
+
+Dave sat up and grinned down at the good-looking, sun-bronzed youth
+sprawled out on the grass at his side. He shook his head and held out
+his hand.
+
+"Wrong, Pilot Officer Freddy Farmer, of the same Royal Air Force," he
+said. "So pay me the penny. I was thinking that it sure is one swell
+day. And I was wondering if we were going to get a little action, or if
+Hitler had found out we were now regular active service pilots, and had
+decided to call off the war."
+
+"Hardly," the English youth said with a chuckle. "True, he's probably
+scared stiff now that you and I are in the R.A.F. I fancy, though, he
+isn't that scared. But it's pretty wonderful, isn't it? I mean, to be in
+the R.A.F."
+
+Dave didn't answer. He let his gaze wander over to the line of
+Supermarine Spitfires powered with 1030 hp. Rolls Royce "Merlin"
+engines. Just looking at those swift, man-made metal birds of war made
+his heart start pounding and the blood surge through his body. An honest
+to goodness Spitfire pilot in the Royal Air Force! It was like living a
+wonderful dream, and it was doubly wonderful because it was true. The
+training and the concentrated study were all behind Freddy and himself,
+now. Each wore the highly prized wings above the upper left pocket of
+his tunic. But perhaps even more important was the fact that they had
+already received their baptism under fire. Each had got himself a German
+plane, the first payment in return for the training and instruction
+England had given them. For a month, now, they had been stationed with
+No. 207 Squadron, located on the east coast of England, just a few miles
+north of Chelmsford. Only a month so far on active duty--the "Babies" of
+the Squadron--but because of the speed with which wars are being fought
+these days, with each day filled with twenty-four hours of service and
+activity, they were just as much veterans as most of the older pilots.
+
+"Stop daydreaming," Freddy cut into Dave's thoughts. "You are glad to be
+in the R.A.F., aren't you?"
+
+Dave looked at him and raised both his eyebrows.
+
+"Glad?" he echoed. "Boy, I'm tickled pink! Right now I wouldn't swap
+places with anybody else in all the world. Glad? Holy smokes! Is that a
+dumb question! And say, come across with that penny. Pay up, pal!"
+
+Freddy made a face, fished a penny from his pocket and tossed it over.
+
+"Right you are, there," he said. "I'll have you know an Englishman
+always pays his debts. What do you think, Dave?"
+
+"About what?"
+
+"About the blighters across the Channel," Freddy said. "Think they'll be
+fools enough to try and invade us? I mean, seriously."
+
+"I don't know," Dave said with a shrug. He plucked a blade of grass and
+started chewing on it thoughtfully. "No, I don't know if Hitler's that
+crazy, or not," he continued after a moment. "All I can say is I sure
+hope he tries it. We'll give him a beating he won't forget in a hurry.
+Gee! That makes me feel good!"
+
+"What makes you feel good?" Freddy wanted to know.
+
+"Saying that," Dave grunted. "Saying _we'll_ give him a beating. Gosh, a
+few months ago I was an American citizen, standing on the sidelines
+watching things. Now, though, I'm a part of it. When I speak of England
+doing this or that, I'm including me, because I'm really a little part
+of it, now. It sure gives me a kick to feel that way, and to know it's
+true."
+
+"And England is grateful, Dave," Freddy said solemnly. "I guess you
+might say that England's fighting to save the world, and--"
+
+The young Englishman didn't finish the rest. At that moment the phone
+bell in the Dispersal Office not far away rang harshly. In a flash they
+were both on their feet, because the ringing of that phone bell always
+meant just one thing. It meant that German planes had been sighted
+approaching 207's patrol area. The voice at the other end of that phone
+would state where the planes were, how many in number, the types, the
+altitude, direction, and so forth. To pilots on stand-to duty the
+ringing of that bell meant action coming up. And so, as their flight
+leader answered the call, Dave and Freddy started pulling on their
+helmets and zipping up their flying suits, for although it was summer on
+the ground it was cold up around twenty thousand feet where they usually
+did battle.
+
+A moment later Flight Lieutenant Barton-Woods, leader of their flight,
+known as Green Flight, came dashing out of the Dispersal Office.
+
+"Right-o, chaps!" he called out to them, and hurried toward his plane.
+"A couple of Junkers 88s cutting across Zone H at twenty-two thousand.
+Let's go up and chase the beggars down into the sea."
+
+In less than a minute the three Spitfires streaked off the field and
+went wind screaming up for altitude. As soon as they were clear, Flight
+Lieutenant Barton-Woods checked his radio with the field's station, and
+then checked with the two members of his flight.
+
+"Radio check, chaps!" came the words in Dave's helmet phones.
+
+"Check, sir," he spoke into the disc-shaped mike in front of his mouth.
+
+"Check, also, sir," he heard Freddy sing out.
+
+"Right you are, lads," the flight lieutenant replied. "Don't forget to
+turn on your oxygen at five thousand, so's you won't forget it at
+twenty."
+
+Dave reached forward and turned the little valve knob that would feed
+him oxygen through a mouthpiece. He didn't need it yet, of course, but
+it was a practice to turn the thing on at low altitudes so that it would
+be ready for instant use at higher altitudes. If you waited until you
+needed oxygen, you might be too busy at that moment fighting for your
+life to have time to turn the knob. And then it would be just too
+bad--for you.
+
+And so Dave made sure ahead of time, then concentrated on keeping his
+place in the V-shaped formation, and following his flight leader high up
+into the cloud-dotted blue. In less time than it takes to tell about it,
+England was just a blur of browns and greens far down under their wings;
+just a tiny island completely surrounded by water and almost within
+broad jumping distance of Nazi-conquered Europe. Dave, however, didn't
+bother about admiring the sight. He had seen it countless times before.
+And besides, he needed his eyes now for things above, not under him.
+Somewhere up in that vast expanse of white-dotted blue two German
+Junkers were trying to sneak in to drop their bomb loads on English
+soil. Two of Air Marshal Goering's winged vultures were hoping to--
+
+"There they are, chaps!" Flight Lieutenant Barton-Woods' voice came
+through the earphones. "Turn right a quarter, and a thousand feet above
+us. Tally-ho, lads! The blighters! They spotted us and are turning back!
+After them, Green Flight!"
+
+Dave and Freddy had already spotted the two would-be raiders off to
+their right front and a thousand feet or so higher. The huge twin-engine
+craft were halfway around in a bank back toward the east, and the rays
+of the sun on their metal wings and sides made them look like
+prehistoric birds of glistening silver cutting through the air.
+
+Keeping his eyes glued to them, Dave hunched forward slightly in his
+seat and slid one thumb up to rest on the trigger button on his control
+stick. One jab at that button and the eight Vickers high speed machine
+guns cowled into the Spitfire's wings, four on each side, would spew out
+a shower of destruction at the rate of over nine thousand bullets a
+minute. All eight guns were sighted to converge at a point some two
+hundred yards in front of the ship. And anything that crossed that spot
+when those eight guns were hammering out their song was doomed to a lot
+of trouble--and nine times out of ten just plain, naturally doomed.
+
+For a split second Dave took his eyes off the Junkers trying to scoot
+back home and shot a quick glance at Freddy Farmer. His lips twisted
+back in a happy smile, and a warm comforting glow drifted through him.
+Good old Freddy. Always there just off his wingtip. A pilot in a
+million, as far as Dave was concerned. They flew like a team that had
+been working together for years instead of only a few months. Each
+seemed to sense instantly, whether on a routine practice patrol or in
+the middle of a bullet-barking dog fight, just what the other was going
+to do. And as a result of the perfect coordination between them, more
+times than not they got exactly what they went after. As Squadron Leader
+Trenton, 207's commanding officer, had once remarked:
+
+"They're the babies of the Squadron, but I jolly well wish I had a whole
+squadron of babies!"
+
+At that moment a short, savage burst from Flight Lieutenant
+Barton-Woods' guns snapped Dave's eyes back to the Junkers. They were
+still quite a ways off but the Green Flight leader had let go with a
+challenging burst hoping that the Germans would give up thoughts of
+escape and turn back to give battle. However, it was instantly obvious
+that the Junkers pilots and their crews didn't want any truck with three
+Spitfire pilots. The nose of each ship was pushed down a bit to add
+speed to the get away attempt. And a moment later Dave saw the flash of
+sunlight on bombs dropping harmlessly down into the rolling grey-green
+swells where the Channel blends in with the North Sea.
+
+"Not this day, my little Jerries!" Flight Lieutenant Barton-Woods' voice
+boomed over the radio. "Let's make the beggars pay for dropping bombs in
+our Channel, Green Flight! Give it to them!"
+
+The last was more or less the signal that each pilot was on his own.
+Dave waited until he saw his flight leader swerve off to slam in at the
+Junkers to the right. Then he touched rudder, and with Freddy sticking
+right with him, swerved off after the other German raider. They were
+real close now, well within gun range, and as the pair slid out to take
+up attack positions the Junkers' gunners started throwing nickel
+jacketed lead. The wavy smoke of tracers whipped and zipped by a few
+feet over Dave's head. He laughed into his mike and dropped his nose and
+cut sharply off to the right. Freddy did the same, only off to the left.
+
+No sooner had they started the cutting away maneuver than they cut right
+back in again. The German gunners saw them coming and fired their guns
+savagely, but those two R.A.F. lads tore in like a couple of man-made
+birds gone completely crazy. It was as though they both intended to fly
+right straight into the Junkers. Then when there were no less than a
+couple of split seconds left before just that would happen, Freddy
+Farmer's voice sang out in Dave's earphones.
+
+"Right-o, Dave!" he shouted. "This one for us!"
+
+They both jabbed their trigger button and sixteen Vickers machine guns
+poured a withering blast of destruction into that Junkers 88. For a few
+seconds the German raider continued to roar eastward. Then suddenly its
+port engine belched out a cloud of red flame and oily black smoke. Then
+as though the craft had hooked its left wing on some invisible wall in
+the sky, the Junkers staggered to the left and down. Its tail gunner
+kept up his fire as Dave and Freddy skipped past and zoomed up to dive
+attack again. But that German might just as well have tried to shoot at
+a couple of lightning bolts flashing by.
+
+Cutting short their zoom Dave and Freddy rolled their Spitfires over and
+let them drop by the nose. Down they came again, holding their fire
+until the last few seconds. The Junkers now was more like a moving cloud
+of smoke than an airplane flying through the air. And when Dave and
+Freddy jabbed their trigger buttons again it was the death blow for that
+German raider. The right wing broke off clean at the stub, and carried
+the starboard engine along with it. From nose to tail the Junkers became
+no more than a moving ball of fire. Then suddenly the gas tanks let go.
+The whole sky was filled with barbs of darting flame and billowing
+clouds of black smoke. The sky trembled and shook ... and then the
+Junkers 88 just wasn't there any more. It was a shower of smoking and
+flaming debris slithering down into the North Sea.
+
+"Good lad, Dave!" Freddy sang out. "Your bursts did it!"
+
+"My bursts, nothing!" Dave called back to him. "I didn't even come close
+to the guy. That was your plane, Freddy. Congratulations!"
+
+"Rot!" Freddy snorted into his disc mike, also known as the "flap" mike.
+"We'll split the beggar and each take half, eh? Oh, oh, Dave! The flight
+lieutenant's in trouble!"
+
+It was true. Perhaps there was a better pilot in the other Junkers, or
+perhaps gunners with a better aim, or it was even possible Flight
+Lieutenant Barton-Woods had become careless for a moment or so. Anyway,
+he had not nailed his man, and the Junkers gunners were giving him quite
+an uncomfortable time as he zoomed up into the clear. Dave and Freddy
+didn't speak a single word between them. They simply wheeled across the
+sky in perfect attack formation, and then roared down on the Junkers.
+
+Its rear gunner was no novice, and he had courage. He stuck to his guns
+and returned their own savage fire. Dave felt his plane quiver slightly,
+and knew that German bullets were hitting his ship. But he didn't swerve
+an inch. His wing howled down at the German and he held his fire until
+the right moment. This time he shouted the signal.
+
+"Smack it, Freddy!"
+
+Their guns hammered and yammered out their song, and Dave could clearly
+see their tracers zinging down into the German plane. No man-made
+airplane on earth could have withstood that blasting fire from the
+sixteen guns between the two youths. And that Junkers 88 was no
+exception to prove the rule. It burst into flame and went careening
+crazily off on one wing. Then it dropped by the nose, and started
+howling seaward in a vertical power dive. After it had dropped three or
+four hundred feet, five black dots popped out from it like peas out of a
+pod. They instantly became men in Dave's vision, and they slowly turned
+over and over as they fell down through the air. At the end of almost
+thirty seconds a puff of white shot up from each man's back. They spread
+out into parachute envelopes, and five German airmen drifted slowly down
+toward the surface of the North Sea where British motorboats waited to
+pull them in as captured prisoners.
+
+Dave and Freddy didn't bother watching the five German airmen float
+downward. Instead they pulled up out of the dives, closed in on Flight
+Lieutenant Barton-Woods and took up formation positions. Their leader
+grinned at them, and they heard his voice coming over the radio.
+
+"Stout work, you two," he said. "Made an awful mess of it, myself. But
+you two were along, so I knew everything would be fine. Well, let's toot
+on back home and report to the O.C."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO
+
+_Mysterious Orders_
+
+
+Less than half an hour later, the three pilots of 207 were reporting all
+details of the patrol to Squadron Leader Trenton, and the R.A.F.
+Intelligence officer who sat at his side. No matter how trivial a patrol
+may be, R.A.F. pilots always make a complete report upon their return to
+the home field. That way the ranking powers are always able to have a
+complete picture of the war in the air before them. In other words,
+every single scrap of information about a patrol is important, because
+you never can tell what it might mean in the whole scheme of things. For
+that reason the pilots not only made out their reports in writing, but
+made them by word of mouth, too.
+
+"Good work, you two," the Squadron Leader said, and smiled at Freddy and
+Dave. "It's not such an easy job getting a Junkers 88. Those planes have
+a pretty fair amount of fire power. So getting _two_ of them is a mighty
+good piece of work. And, oh yes, stay a bit, will you? I want to have a
+talk with you."
+
+A few minutes later Flight Lieutenant Barton-Woods and the Intelligence
+officer headed off for the mess. As the door closed on them, Squadron
+Leader Trenton swung around in his chair and gave the two boys a long
+piercing stare. Then he suddenly clasped his hands on the desk and
+leaned forward.
+
+"I say, you two," he spoke up, "have you gotten yourselves into a bit of
+trouble that might have been reported to the Air Ministry in London?"
+
+Dave and Freddy looked blankly at each other for a brief moment, then
+returned their gaze to the squadron leader.
+
+"Trouble, sir?" Dave echoed faintly.
+
+"When, sir?" Freddy added. "And where?"
+
+The squadron commander shrugged and looked completely at sea.
+
+"I haven't the faintest idea," he said. "I was only asking you. Nothing
+happened when you two popped up to London for a day's leave last week?"
+
+"Why, no, sir," Freddy answered promptly for them both. "We just nosed
+around and saw a couple of shows, that's all. We were both back here at
+the squadron by midnight."
+
+"Why?" Dave put the question. "Has anything happened, sir?"
+
+"I can't say," Squadron Leader Trenton murmured, and stared at them with
+a troubled look in his eyes. "Just after you took off on this last show,
+I received a phone call from Air Ministry. You two are ordered to report
+to Air Vice-Marshal Saunders bright and early tomorrow morning. You'd
+better go up to London tonight so's you'll be sure and be at Adastral
+House (R.A.F. name for the Air Ministry) bright and early."
+
+"Air Vice-Marshal Saunders?" Freddy Farmer repeated in an awed tone.
+"But why would he want to see us, sir?"
+
+Squadron Leader Trenton smiled thinly as he gestured with his two hands
+on the desk.
+
+"In this case, I still haven't any idea," he said. "Usually, though,
+it's for one of two reasons: to give you a very hot going over for
+breaking some rule and getting into trouble; or else to give you his
+personal congratulations as he tells you you've been recommended for a
+medal."
+
+"Well, it surely can't be for either of those reasons," Dave said with a
+frown. "We certainly haven't bumped into any trouble, and we certainly
+haven't done anything to rate a medal. And--My gosh! Holy smokes! Do you
+suppose--?"
+
+Dave gulped and didn't finish the rest. Squadron Leader Trenton gave him
+a keen glance.
+
+"Do I suppose what, Dawson?" he prompted.
+
+Dave had to swallow again before he could speak. A crazy thought had
+suddenly flashed through his brain, but just the same it had given him a
+cold chill.
+
+"Do you suppose there's some new law?" he began. "I mean, could there be
+some new ruling that might force us to resign our commissions because
+we're both only seventeen, a year under the regulation age?"
+
+A look of relief flooded the senior officer's face. He laughed and shook
+his head.
+
+"Not even likely!" he said in firm conviction. "After the way you two
+chaps have stood up, it doesn't matter in the slightest how old you
+are--seventeen or seventy. No, Dawson, I think I can assure you
+positively that the R.A.F. will never make any new ruling or law that
+would rid it of you two. No, you can let that worry bail out of your
+mind, and forget it forever. No, that wasn't the reason for my phone
+call."
+
+"And you really haven't _any_ idea, sir?" Freddy asked. "I mean, could
+this possibly mean that Dawson and I are being transferred someplace
+else?"
+
+"By gad, I hope not!" the squadron leader exclaimed sharply, and sat up
+in his chair. "No, it couldn't be that, either. I would be informed. The
+transfer papers would be sent along to me. Besides, I'd raise the roof
+at any suggestion like that."
+
+"Boy, I wish we were reporting today," Dave grunted. "I know doggone
+well I won't sleep a wink tonight!"
+
+"Which may be the exact truth!" Squadron Leader Trenton said with a dry
+smile. "The Jerries are starting to bomb London at night, now, you
+know. And by the way, if they do while you two are there, just see to it
+that you keep out from under, won't you? It cost the R.A.F. a fair penny
+to make Spitfire pilots out of you. We want a return on the investment,
+you know."
+
+The two boys laughed, but inside they glowed and felt very happy indeed.
+That was simply Squadron Leader Trenton's way of saying that he valued
+their aid to 207, and didn't want anything to happen that would rob 207
+Squadron of their flying and combat ability.
+
+"Don't worry, we'll sure watch our step, sir," Dave said. Then, with a
+quick side glance at Freddy: "I'll see that he doesn't stumble over any
+bombs. I'll keep hold of his hand all the time."
+
+The squadron leader laughed, and Freddy Farmer blushed to the ears.
+
+"When anybody has to hold my hand, I'll jolly well let you know!" the
+young Englishman said scornfully. "Like as not, it'll be the other way
+'round. Don't you think his face is getting a bit pale already, sir?"
+
+Freddy addressed the last to Squadron Leader Trenton, who laughed again.
+
+"Can't say for sure, Farmer," the O.C. said gravely. "The light's bad in
+here, you know. Well, anyway, pop along, you two, and pack a bag. The
+adjutant will give you railroad vouchers, and your passes. Get back here
+soon. And no matter what--good luck to both of you."
+
+The two youths thanked him, saluted and retreated outside. As they
+started toward their living quarters, Dave slyly stuck out his foot, and
+when Freddy tripped over it and started to fall headlong, Dave grabbed
+him quickly.
+
+"See?" Dave chided, as he helped Freddy to keep his balance. "Just as I
+thought! You need somebody to hold your hand. Oh, well, I'll be glad to
+do it, because I like you, little boy. _Hey!_"
+
+Freddy caused the exclamation, because as he straightened up he stepped
+hard on Dave's foot, then broke into a sprint for their living quarters.
+The English youth won by a good three yards. He was inside and hauling
+out his suitcase as Dave came bursting in. He glanced up with a look of
+mock concern on his face.
+
+"Something wrong, Dave?" he murmured. "Is a Jerry chasing you?"
+
+"Just a pal!" Dave growled, and limped toward his own bunk. "I stop the
+guy from falling down and breaking his neck, and what does he do? He
+practically cripples me for life. A fine screw-ball I've got for a pal.
+Say, Freddy?"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+Dave sank down on his bunk with a frown and made no effort to haul out
+his suitcase.
+
+"This business at Adastral House tomorrow," he grunted. "Jeepers! I sure
+hope it isn't bad news. I don't know why, but I've got a funny feeling."
+
+Freddy stopped packing and looked up.
+
+"What kind of a funny feeling?" he wanted to know.
+
+Dave scratched the back of his neck and sighed.
+
+"Just a funny feeling, that's all," he said. "I can't put it into words.
+I've just got a hunch that plenty is going to happen."
+
+"Good, or bad?" Freddy asked.
+
+Dave shook his head and got off the bunk.
+
+"Boy, do I wish I knew!" he breathed. "Well, we can only wait and hope,
+I guess. Where do you want to stay in London? Your family's house on
+Baker Street is closed up, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes," Freddy said. "But, if you like, we can open it for the night.
+There'd be no objections."
+
+"No, let's bunk at a hotel," Dave said. "How about the Savoy? That's
+close to the Air Ministry."
+
+"So the lad's a blinking millionaire!" Freddy commented with a chuckle.
+"He must stay at the very best of places. Too bad they don't rent room
+and bath at Buckingham Palace."
+
+"Okay, okay!" Dave growled. "Then where do we park?"
+
+"Why, at the Savoy, of course," Freddy said with a sly grin. "I fancy
+our pilot officer's pay can stand it for one night. And that makes me
+wonder a bit, you know?"
+
+"What does?" Dave asked absently, as he started studying a London
+timetable. "What are you wondering about now, my little man?"
+
+"I was wondering where we'll be _tomorrow_ night," Freddy replied.
+
+"Somehow I don't even dare guess," Dave said. "And--Hey, get a move on,
+fellow! There's a train leaving Chelmsford in forty minutes. Let's grab
+that. It gets us in London just about in time to put on the feed bag.
+Gee! I wonder if they've got strawberry shortcake at the Savoy. Boy,
+can I go for that dish!"
+
+"Good grief!" Freddy groaned. Then, in mock gravity: "Why, certainly, my
+dear fellow. Anything for a weary R.A.F. pilot, you know. After all, who
+else is fighting the blinking war?"
+
+Dave heaved a book at him, but Freddy dodged it neatly, and then the
+pair set to packing in earnest. As they expected to be away only a day
+and a night at the most, they didn't put many "spares" into their bags.
+As a matter of fact, though, had the two of them been able to look into
+the future at that moment, they wouldn't have bothered about packing
+anything! Clean shirts, spare socks and handkerchiefs, and all that sort
+of stuff, were items they wouldn't be even thinking about in the hectic
+days that lay just ahead.
+
+"Okay, I'm set, are you?" Dave presently announced, and clicked his bag
+shut.
+
+"Right you are," Freddy called out, and shut his own bag. "Off we go!"
+
+Dave caught up his bag and started for the door. When he reached it, he
+suddenly paused and turned around.
+
+"Doggone that hunch!" he grunted. "Wonder what it means, anyway?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE
+
+_Night Raid_
+
+
+The shrill whistle of the locomotive echoed across the twilight-steeped
+English countryside. The train lurched and trembled for a moment or so,
+and then started gliding smoothly along the tracks. Dave and Freddy took
+a last glance out the compartment window at the Chelmsford station and
+then settled back comfortably on the cushioned seats. They had the
+compartment to themselves, and for that they were truly grateful. They
+were headed for London for half leave and half military reasons, but
+that didn't mean they weren't tired. The last few weeks had been crowded
+with more aerial warfare than had taken place in a whole year in World
+War Number One. The Royal Air Force had almost single-handed held back
+the Nazis from crossing the Channel. Still outnumbered, but not so much
+as at Dunkirk, the R.A.F. boys from the squadron leaders right down to
+the lowest grade mechanics had gained mastery of the air over the
+Channel and over England. And, what was more important, they had held
+that mastery regardless of the German fleets of planes Goering had
+hurled against them.
+
+Stretching out, Dave leaned his head back, and cocked his feet up on the
+opposite seat.
+
+"If I could only get Air Vice-Marshal Saunders off my mind," he sighed,
+"I might catch me a bit of shut-eye. Boy, we've been hitting that old
+ball lately, you know?"
+
+"Hitting what?" Freddy murmured, and closed his eyes. "What in the world
+does that mean?"
+
+"Sure, hitting the old ball," Dave said lazily. "Smacking that apple.
+Hitting on all six. Right on the beam every minute. Catch on?"
+
+"Oh, of course!" Freddy groaned, and gave a shake of his head. "A chap
+who spoke English would certainly be at a loss in the States, wouldn't
+he?"
+
+"That's right," Dave said sleepily. "Just like an American being in
+England. Lift, for elevator! Treacle, when it's syrup! Queue-up, when
+you mean standing in line. Boy, what a language! And, am I all in!
+Jeepers! Am I tired! Am I--"
+
+The sudden and abrupt slackening of the train's speed woke both boys up
+in a flash. In fact, it woke them up in the dark, for it was late
+evening outside, and while they had dozed the conductor had come in and
+pulled down the compartment window curtains. A very pale blue light in
+the corridor outside was of no more good than no light at all.
+
+Freddy groaned aloud, flexed his stiff muscles, and peered around a
+corner of the window curtain.
+
+"Now what?" he murmured. "Dark as pitch outside, but I'm sure we're not
+even close to London yet. I say, hear those anti-aircraft guns?"
+
+"With both ears," Dave said, and took a squint out himself.
+
+By pressing close to the glass and trying to look in the direction of
+the engine, he could just barely see the long pencil-thin beams of
+searchlights raking the heavens far ahead. And every now and then the
+dark sky was stabbed by blotches of flaming red and crimson.
+
+"The Jerries are over again, trying to hit some more women and
+children," he said grimly. "I hope our night boys get every darn one of
+them."
+
+"They'll get some, I fancy," Freddy said quietly. "But why are we
+running so slow? That raid is miles and miles ahead of us. Besides, I
+always thought a moving target was much harder to hit. This blasted
+train might just as well go sixty miles as six, as it must be doing
+now."
+
+"Stay after school, Pilot Officer Farmer!" Dave snorted. "And here I
+thought you knew all the answers! My, my!"
+
+"Oh, come off it!" Freddy snapped. "I suppose you know the reason?"
+
+"Sure," Dave said.
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"An official secret," Dave said in a hoarse whisper. "I'd tell you, but
+how do I know there isn't a Nazi agent under the seat?"
+
+"_You'll_ be under the seat, if you don't cut it out!" Freddy whispered
+back at him. "Now, what's the great reason?"
+
+"Okay, if you've got to know," Dave said in a patient, resigned voice.
+"This is how it is, my little man. German planes carry bombs, and when
+they get over here they drop those bombs, see? Well, one might drop on
+the track way ahead of a train going sixty miles an hour, see? Well,
+maybe the engineer couldn't stop in time, and the train would pile up.
+But if the train crawls along until the all-clear is sounded, then the
+engineer can stop it on a dime if he should go around a curve and
+suddenly see a nice big bomb crater where the tracks should be. Now,
+right or wrong?"
+
+Freddy made clucking sounds with his tongue in the darkness.
+
+"Why, I believe the chap is right," he said, as though talking to
+himself. "Yes, I fancy he has a little bit of something useful between
+those big ears of his. You are right, of course, Dave."
+
+"Ever see me when I was wrong?" Dave taunted. Then quickly: "No, let's
+not bring that up! Hey! Those planes are headed this way!"
+
+Dave could have saved his breath on the last. As though a huge invisible
+door in the sky had been opened, the thunder of the guns tripled in
+sound. The compartment was suddenly bathed in the pale reflection of a
+battery of searchlight beams that suddenly sprang into action less than
+fifty yards from the tracks. The train had come to a full halt now, with
+its headlight turned off. A moment later came the familiar drone of
+night-bombing Heinkels and Benz-Daimler powered Focke-Wulf 187s above
+the roar of the batteries of anti-aircraft guns.
+
+For a moment Dave and Freddy watched the approach of the raiding planes.
+Then common sense got the best of curiosity. They stretched out on the
+compartment floor beside each other to protect themselves as much as
+possible in case any of those eggs of death should happen to land near
+the train. Perhaps they looked funny huddling down on the compartment
+floor in their best Sunday-go-to-meeting uniforms. However, in England
+it is not a sign of being afraid or of cowardice to fling yourself flat
+when the bombers come over. It is a sign of good sense. Perhaps it is
+true that the bomb or bullet that gets you has your name on it, and you
+can't escape it no matter where you are. At the same time, though, only
+a fool or a madman deliberately dares a bomb to do him harm.
+
+And so Freddy and Dave hugged the floor while the raiders roared over
+and plastered the countryside with their loads of death and destruction.
+At least fifty times an earth-shaking roar, and a towering sheet of
+flame, made them think that was the last bomb they'd ever hear in this
+war, or in this world. Each time invisible hands seemed to reach down
+out of that roaring, flame-filled night sky and lift the train clear up
+off the tracks, and then let it drop back with a jarring crash. After
+each outburst, however, they continued to remain alive. And presently
+the throbbing drone died away in the distance, the roaring and barking
+of the guns ceased, and the searchlight beams winked out one by one.
+Night returned again to that section of England--night painted here and
+there with the glow of fires set by the bombs.
+
+"The big bums!" Dave growled, and got up off the floor. "As if you and I
+haven't got enough to worry about without them buzzing over to make
+things worse. Were you scared, Freddy?"
+
+"Stiff," the English youth promptly replied.
+
+"Me, too," Dave said with half a chuckle. "That's my knees you hear,
+still knocking together. And they say you get used to air raids. Oh
+boy!"
+
+"You probably do," Freddy said. "But I have no desire to prove it to
+myself. I hope the blighters didn't hit the track. It's a long walk from
+here to London. I say, what's that?"
+
+At that moment a burst of shots had shattered the comparative silence
+outside. Regardless of regulations, the boys threw up their compartment
+window and leaned out. They saw a figure stumbling through the shadows
+alongside the train. He was bent over double as though in pain, and his
+footsteps faltered. Just as he came abreast of their compartment some
+more shots rang out. The stumbling figure stumbled for the last time. He
+fell forward, flat on his face, and lay still. In a few seconds half a
+dozen men in uniform came rushing up. One of them flashed a light on the
+still figure, then bent down and rolled him over.
+
+"Well, that's one blighter they won't be able to count on from now on!"
+a voice growled. "A jolly good thing he's finished, too!"
+
+"Right!" a second voice said. "If we hadn't been a patrol, it might have
+turned out a mess for this train. Fancy the beggar trying to let them
+know where it was!"
+
+"I say there!" Freddy called, and leaned farther out the window. "What's
+all this?"
+
+"Keep back in that train, and--!" a voice started to say, but stopped as
+the flashlight beam caught Dave and Freddy for a second in its glow.
+"Oh, sorry, sir," the same voice spoke again. "Thought you were just
+nosy civilians, not R.A.F. Well, sir, we caught another one of them
+Fifth Column beggars trying to do us harm."
+
+"Yes, sir; that's right, sir," another voice broke in. "We were on our
+usual patrol along the track when suddenly we saw some bloke slinking
+along ahead of us. The raiders weren't even close, then, so we just
+followed this beggar and didn't challenge him. Well, strike me pink,
+sir, if he didn't drop down on the tracks, and whip one of them red
+flare things from his pocket and start to light it."
+
+"But he didn't get away with it, I can tell you, sir," the first voice
+spoke up. "Me and Harry, here, right ups and jumps on him before he's
+even got the match to it. But he's a strong one, and he gives us a bit
+of a fight, and--"
+
+"A bit of a fight?" the other voice interrupted again. "The blighter
+tosses us around like we're a couple of rag dolls, and starts scooting
+down the track. By then the bombers are right over us, and--Well, I
+guess you heard the things they dropped. Anyway, we lose this blighter
+for a bit during the mess-up. Then we spot him trying to get on the
+train. We don't bother to challenge, now. We just let him have what he
+deserves. And here he is. A good thing, too!"
+
+"A _very_ good thing," Freddy added. "Congratulations. You're air raid
+wardens, aren't you?"
+
+"That's right, sir," one of them replied. "Too old for any regular
+military work, but we're jolly well glad to do what we can to help."
+
+Dave looked down at the still figure on the ground. But for the
+watchfulness and constant vigilance of those "old" men, that dead Nazi
+spy might have lighted the signal flare on the track and made it
+possible for the German bombers overhead to see the slow moving train.
+But for those "old" men a bomb might have come screaming down to strike
+the train and blow one Dave Dawson and one Freddy Farmer straight into
+the next world. Dave glanced up at the men, and his eyes glowed with
+frank and open admiration.
+
+"And without your help," he said, "England would be in a pretty tough
+spot. She can thank you fellows for a lot--and how!"
+
+The air raid wardens chuckled in an embarrassed sort of way.
+
+"Well, thank you, sir," one of them said. "It's mighty nice of you to
+put it that way. We're glad to do our bit, though. You sound like a
+Yank, sir."
+
+"Oh, don't mind that," Freddy spoke up with a laugh before Dave could
+say a word. "You'd be surprised how he mangled the language at first.
+But he's really doing awfully well--for a little fellow. The squadron
+commander's going to let him taste his first cup of tea next week.
+And--_Ouch!_"
+
+Dave had eased off the window catch so that it slid down on Freddy's
+neck. He held it there with his hands and grinned at the air raid
+wardens through the glass. They roared with laughter. Then as the train
+started to move, Dave released Freddy's neck and pushed the window up.
+
+"Good luck!" he shouted, and leaned out. "Thumbs up, mates!"
+
+"The same to you, sir!" they shouted back. "Thumbs up, R.A.F.!"
+
+The train picked up speed, and another little incident in the war
+careers of Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer became history. They closed the
+window, pulled the curtain down, and sank back on the seats. Freddy
+rubbed the back of his neck and glared at Dave's grinning face.
+
+"Go ahead and grin, you queer-looking ape," he muttered. "But I'll get
+back at you, no fear. And when I do, you'll jolly well know it, too."
+
+"Let that be a lesson to you to speak of your superiors in the future
+with more respect," Dave chuckled. "You're lucky, my little man, I
+didn't make you keep your head hanging out there all the way to London.
+But, gee, you English are certainly swell people!"
+
+"Naturally," Freddy said in mock gravity. "Look who we are, my dear
+fellow. And just think how fortunate you are to have the opportunity to
+observe and learn."
+
+"No kidding, though," Dave said, "Hitler just hasn't a chance. It gave
+me a great kick to meet those air raid wardens back there."
+
+"I know what you mean," Freddy said, and nodded. "It isn't just the
+Army, and the Navy, and the Air Force fighting Hitler, now. It's
+England--all of England from the oldest right down to the youngest."
+
+"What a dope Hitler was even to think he could get away with it!" Dave
+murmured. "Boy, oh boy! Is that guy riding for one big fall!"
+
+"And I jolly well hope it will be soon!" Freddy echoed. "And that
+reminds me. I certainly wish I knew what Air Vice-Marshal Saunders wants
+of us!"
+
+Dave groaned and slid down on the seat.
+
+"My pal!" he sighed unhappily. "Just when I was all nice and relaxed,
+you'd have to go and bring _that_ up!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR
+
+_Nazi Wings Over London_
+
+
+Dave gave the bell-hop a shilling and waited for the boy to step out
+into the hall and close the door. Then he took three running steps,
+jumped, and landed flat on his back on the bed. The springs squeaked in
+protest but didn't give way. Dave flung out his arms and sighed loudly.
+
+"Boy, a real bed!" he exclaimed. "Look, Freddy, this is a bed. Springs,
+mattress, sheets, blankets, and everything. And it's all mine until
+tomorrow. Of course those things we have out at the squadron aren't too
+tough. But this! This is a real bed. Turn out that light, pal. I'm
+practically asleep right now. Gosh! That train took a million years,
+didn't it?"
+
+Freddy didn't reply at once. He slung his suitcase onto the other bed,
+then came over and grabbed Dave by the feet. A good yank and Dave was on
+the floor.
+
+"You're not using that bed, yet," Freddy grinned down into his startled
+face. "There's plenty of time for your beauty sleep. First we're going
+out to have a look at the black-out."
+
+"Going out?" Dave groaned and got slowly to his feet. "Me go out and
+crack my shins against things in the dark? Nit, nat, no, my little man.
+Mrs. Dawson's pride and joy is going to bed. And I'm not kidding."
+
+Freddy grinned wickedly and dropped into a wrestler's crouch.
+
+"You think so?" he murmured. "Right you are! Just try and get into that
+bed."
+
+"So that's it, huh?" Dave grunted and took a cautious step forward.
+"I've got to tie and gag you first? Or maybe you didn't hear me. _I'm_
+going to bed. You take London and the black-out. Me, I'm taking the bed.
+I--"
+
+Dave cut the last off short and leaped forward, but Freddy was too quick
+for him. The English youth darted to the side, then turned in a flash
+and caught Dave's arms and pinned them behind his back.
+
+"Do you go quietly with me, my little American chap?" he said. "Or shall
+I phone down for the Savoy Hotel manager to come up here and give me a
+hand?"
+
+Dave struggled for a second or two, but was unable to break his friend's
+hold.
+
+"Darned if the youngster hasn't a little bit of strength, at that!" he
+said in mocking surprise. "I'd better not be so easy with him after
+this. Okay, you win. Stop breaking my arms."
+
+"We go for a walk?" Freddy asked, still keeping his hold.
+
+"Okay, we walk," Dave said, and groaned wearily. "But if you fall down a
+man-hole--and you know what I hope--don't go yelling at me for help."
+
+Freddy released his grip and stepped quickly backward. Dave rubbed his
+arms and scowled at him.
+
+"Yeah, you do know a couple of tricks, don't you," he grunted. "But
+look. Why can't we see London in the daytime, when it's light? I'm dead
+on my feet, no kidding. You'd--"
+
+Dave didn't finish. At that moment the familiar but always
+nerve-rasping wail of the air raid siren filled the night air outside.
+Freddy jumped across the room, and flipped off the light switch. Then
+the two went over to the window and pulled aside the black-out curtains.
+Far to the east the black sky was being stabbed by long pencils of white
+light that slowly swung back and forth from horizon to horizon. In a
+moment there came the dull pounding of distant anti-aircraft batteries.
+The sound grew louder and sharper as it drew near. Suddenly both boys
+jumped as a battery nearby went into savage, furious action. It was so
+close it seemed practically under their feet.
+
+"Holy smokes!" Dave gulped, and backed away from the window. "I swear I
+saw those shells going right up past the end of my nose. Get back from
+that window, Freddy. Concussion might blow in that glass and do plenty
+to your face. Let's--"
+
+_Br-r-rump!_
+
+The sound of an exploding bomb a few blocks away cut Dave's words off
+short. He looked at Freddy, and they both grinned sheepishly.
+
+"I guess you're right!" Dave exclaimed. "I'm not going to bed. Let's go
+borrow a couple of tin helmets from the manager, if he has any, and go
+up on the roof."
+
+"The roof?" Freddy echoed, and his eyes widened suddenly. "What in the
+world?"
+
+_Wha-a-ang! Br-r-rump!_
+
+Two bombs let go in rapid succession. They seemed to explode almost
+right outside the window. Dave and Freddy threw themselves flat on the
+floor between the twin beds, and held their breath. The hotel rocked and
+shook violently, and there was the tinkle of glass as the shattered
+window spilled into the room. They waited until the echo of the
+explosions had died away, and then got slowly to their feet. There was
+just a hole now where the window had been--a hole that looked out on a
+world gone suddenly mad with roaring sound and flashing red, orange and
+yellow flame. Freddy groped for Dave's hand and shook it warmly.
+
+"Thanks, very much," he said in a tight voice.
+
+"Thanks?" Dave murmured. "For what?"
+
+"For reminding me to keep away from windows during a bombing raid,"
+Freddy said. "But just before that blighter scared ten years off my
+life, what were you saying? Oh, yes. You want to go up on the roof?"
+
+"Sure," Dave said with a nod. "For a look. We'll be as safe there as any
+place. If one's coming, it'll come. Just standing here waiting gives me
+the creeps, anyway."
+
+"Me, too," Freddy agreed. "Let's go, then. Bet the manager's in the raid
+shelter, though, and won't dig up tin helmets for us for love nor
+money."
+
+"Well, we can try," Dave said. "And--Drop, Freddy! Here comes another!"
+
+Dave's words of warning were just a waste of breath. The screaming
+whistle of that bomb hurtling downward cut through all sound. As Dave
+flung himself flat again, he had the crazy feeling of listening to some
+huge invisible giant tearing off the top of the world. Even the
+anti-aircraft battery close to the hotel was drowned out by the
+unearthly sound of that falling bomb. Then it struck, and the hotel
+seemed to rise right straight up in the air. Dave was sure he could feel
+the floor heave under him. He closed his eyes tight, and held his
+breath. For a long moment everything seemed to stop dead. Then the hotel
+settled back like something alive but so very, very tired. A second
+later there was a short series of sharp cracking sounds, and ceiling
+plaster fell down on the two R.A.F. pilots.
+
+"That baby was trying to mean business!" Dave said, and got to his feet
+again. "Hitler must know we're in town, the way so many of them are
+coming close. Hey, that _did_ hit close. The building next door!"
+
+The hole where the window had been was now like the entrance to a long
+blazing tunnel. Thirty feet away the three upper floors of a building
+were blazing fiercely. And when the two boys leaped over to the window
+hole, they saw that the entire front of the building had been torn away
+by the terrific blast. In the glow of the flames they could see right
+into rooms full of broken and mangled furniture and apartment
+furnishings. On the rear wall of one room was a framed picture of King
+George and Queen Elizabeth. Everything else in the room was wrecked
+beyond possible recognition by its owners, but the picture of the King
+and Queen was untouched. It hung on the blast-scorched wall as straight
+as could be.
+
+Something about that picture hanging there touched a note deep in Dave
+Dawson. He stared at it for a moment in almost reverent awe. Then,
+clicking his heels, he brought his hand up in smart salute.
+
+"There'll always be an England," he murmured softly.
+
+Freddy Farmer caught the direction of his gaze, looked himself and
+saluted in turn.
+
+"Always!" he said with deep tenderness in his voice.
+
+At that moment a shrill cry of pain came to them from out of the burning
+building. There was a second cry, and a third. They could see nothing
+but the fierce glow of the flames, but the cries seemed to come from the
+rear of the fourth floor.
+
+"There are wounded people in that building!" Freddy cried.
+
+"Trapped, and probably can't get out!" Dave added. "And it's a cinch
+their cries can't be heard by the fire wardens down there in the street.
+What say, Freddy?"
+
+"Of course!" the English youth shouted, and went bounding for the door.
+
+The elevators had stopped running, so they went down the stairs three
+and four at a time. They dashed through the vacant lobby, out the front
+door, and along the short court that led out onto the Strand. There
+they turned left and headed for a fire lieutenant directing his men at
+work trying to put out the fire in the bomb-hit building. Dave grabbed
+him by the arm, and pointed up.
+
+"There are some people trapped on the fourth floor, sir!" he shouted.
+"We heard their screams from our hotel room. Fourth floor, rear."
+
+The fire lieutenant looked at them, saw their uniforms, and wiped an
+annoyed look from his tired face.
+
+"Fourth floor, rear?" he shouted above the noise of his fire fighting
+apparatus. "Thought everybody in that place would be in the shelters.
+How many, do you figure? Can't spare any of my boys, here, so I'll have
+to go it alone."
+
+"Don't know how many!" Dave shouted back. "But you're not tackling it
+alone. We're coming with you. Let's go."
+
+The fire lieutenant grinned.
+
+"The good old R.A.F. every time!" he cried. "Right-o! But wait a bit. No
+sense risking things bashing you on the head, you know."
+
+The fire lieutenant jumped over to his car in the street and pulled out
+a couple of tin helmets. He tossed them to the boys.
+
+"Put those on!" he shouted. "Right-o! Fourth floor, rear, eh?"
+
+Sticking close to the fire lieutenant's heels, the two boys followed him
+into the burning building. It was like rushing through the open door of
+a furnace, and for a second or so the heat seemed almost to knock them
+off balance. Thick smoke swirled about them like a fog, and the smell of
+things burning filled their noses and mouths and made them choke and gag
+for breath.
+
+As though the fire lieutenant had lived in the building all his life, he
+went straight to the stairs completely hidden by the smoke, and started
+up. He paused for a second, half turned and stretched out one hand to
+Dave.
+
+"Give me your hand," he said. "And you take your pal's hand. That way
+we'll stick together and not get lost. Right you are, now. Up we go!"
+
+There was less smoke on the second floor of the building, and still less
+on the third. On the third floor, however, they ran straight into
+trouble. The stair wall had been knocked loose by the exploding bombs,
+and the stairs were covered by a ton or so of split beams, plaster,
+brick, and other kinds of debris. The Fire Lieutenant stared at it with
+a scowl.
+
+"Like climbing the blooming Alps to get over that stuff," he said
+dubiously. "It might give way under our weight and bury the three of
+us."
+
+"Look!" Dave suddenly cried, and pointed up toward the fourth floor.
+"See there on that hall wall? A fire bucket, and a coil of rope. Look,
+I'll go up and sling down the other end of that rope, after making my
+end fast. Then you two can work your way up along the rope."
+
+"No, I'll go up!" the fire lieutenant said. "I say--"
+
+Dave was already scrambling spider-like up the debris-piled stairway.
+With each step forward he seemed to slide back two steps. He'd grab the
+shattered end of a beam for support, and it would start to pull out and
+dislodge chunks of plaster and brick. Plaster dust filled his eyes and
+his throat so that his breath came in rasping gasps. When he was halfway
+up he heard the fire lieutenant cry out in alarm.
+
+"Watch it, lad!" the man shouted. "That section of wall to your left is
+starting to go!"
+
+Dave had just time enough to dart a quick glance to his left. A section
+of wall left standing was bulging out as though a giant were pushing
+against it from the other side. He took that one quick glance and then
+scrambled upward for dear life. There was a crash of sound in back of
+him, and the air was thick with plaster dust. He had flung himself flat
+on the debris and was clinging to a post of the well railing on the
+fourth floor by no more than the tips of his fingers.
+
+"Are you all right, Dave?" he heard Freddy's voice from below.
+
+He didn't answer for a couple of seconds. He was too busy pulling
+himself up onto the solid fourth floor landing. There he turned and
+looked down through the cloud of plaster dust.
+
+"Made it okay!" he shouted down. "Stand by to receive the line!"
+
+He went over to the fire bucket and took it down off the hook, along
+with the coil of stout rope. Then, returning to the head of the stairs,
+he splashed some water down into the cloud of plaster dust.
+
+"Trying to lay that stuff a bit!" he shouted. "Okay! Here comes your end
+of the rope."
+
+He sent the free end of the coil spinning downward, then knelt down and
+fastened his end tight about the base of the railing post.
+
+"Got it!" he heard the fire lieutenant's voice, and felt a jerk on the
+rope at the same time.
+
+At the end of three or four minutes Freddy and the fire lieutenant were
+on the floor landing with him. The fire lieutenant reached out and
+squeezed his arm.
+
+"Stout fellow," the man said. "But you're R.A.F., so of course you'd do
+it. Right-o. This is the fourth floor. The rear, you said? Don't hear a
+sound. And there doesn't seem to be much fire up here. Guess just the
+front of this place is burning. Try the doors, lads, but be careful as
+you push them open. Do it easy like, you know. If the room's burning and
+the windows are closed, opening the door will be like opening a stove
+flue. Hold your breath until you're sure. Let's go."
+
+The three of them started down the hall toward the rear, carefully
+opening doors and glancing into rooms as they went along. Not a light
+was burning in the building, but the glow of the flames seemed to bounce
+back from the walls of nearby buildings and light up all the rooms. Dave
+and Freddy had tried some six or seven rooms when suddenly they looked
+into a room that made them stop short and catch their breath.
+
+The room was a complete wreck. It was as though that one spot had
+received the full impact of the exploding bomb. All four walls were
+completely knocked down. Ribbons of plaster hung from the ceiling, and
+there weren't any windows, just gaping holes through which streamed the
+crimson reflection of the flames of another burning building a good two
+blocks away.
+
+It was not the sight of all that, however, that gave them such a start.
+It was the sight of the four figures trapped under the pile of debris.
+Three were men, and one was a woman. Two of the men, and the woman, lay
+limp and motionless. The fourth man, white with plaster from head to
+foot, was struggling furiously to wiggle out from under an overturned
+desk that pinned him to the floor. And all the time he was muttering
+hoarsely under his breath. He saw Dave and Freddy about the same instant
+they saw him. He stopped struggling instantly.
+
+"Come in, chaps, and get this blasted thing off my back, will you?" he
+called out.
+
+Dave waited just long enough to shout to the fire lieutenant and then
+dashed forward. It took every bit of their combined strength for Freddy
+and him to lift the desk clear. They succeeded, however, and the pinned
+man was able to crawl free. He got to his feet and swayed drunkenly.
+Dave gave him a hand.
+
+"Steady does it, sir," he said. "I'll lead you out into the hall."
+
+The trapped man looked at him out of dazed eyes, mumbled something, and
+nodded. Dave led him out into the hall and then went back into the room
+again. Freddy and the fire lieutenant were lifting ceiling and wall
+beams off the woman. He pitched in and gave them a hand. The woman had
+an ugly cut on the side of her head, and one arm was obviously broken.
+She was breathing evenly, however. They placed her in the hall, then
+went back in for the other two men. Both of them were still alive but
+badly hurt.
+
+No sooner had they carried the last man out into the hall than there was
+a rumbling sound like a New York subway train coming along the tunnel to
+a station. The fire lieutenant let out a yell and grabbed wildly for
+Dave, who was the last to step out of the room.
+
+"Feared this!" he shouted. "Jump!"
+
+Dave jumped instinctively. Then he started to speak, but didn't. It was
+not necessary for him to ask the fire lieutenant what it was all about.
+As he turned, he saw the floor of the room he had just left split
+straight through the middle from hall door to outer wall. The floor
+cracked open, and then the two halves dropped downward like the two
+halves of a hinged trap door. Broken furniture, plaster, brick, and
+everything else went crashing down into a room on the third floor. The
+rumbling roar ceased abruptly, and a great column of smoke and plaster
+dust fountained up from the floor below.
+
+Dave gulped and wiped sweat from his face.
+
+"Gosh, I don't like it that close!" he breathed.
+
+"Great guns!" a voice gasped in his ear. "If you chaps hadn't arrived
+when you did--Good heavens!"
+
+It was the trapped man they had rescued who spoke. He stood peering
+through the door opening with eyes that were like dinner plates. Plaster
+dust still covered him from head to foot, and the red reflection of the
+flames gave him a weird and eerie appearance.
+
+"Yes, plenty close, sir," Dave said, and then turned to the fire
+lieutenant. "We'd better get these people down," he said. "Wonder if
+there are some back stairs here. Have you got stretchers outside?"
+
+"Yes," the fire lieutenant replied. "And there are back stairs, too. I
+spotted them a minute ago. These people need hospitalization at once.
+That woman is hurt bad. I'll go down and get help, and take this one
+chap who can walk along with me. He's had a nasty shock, and I'd better
+get him out of here. Might go off his topper, or something. You two lads
+mind watching over the others?"
+
+"No, go ahead," Freddy said for both of them.
+
+The fire lieutenant nodded, then stepped over and took the arm of the
+plaster-covered man, who still stared glassy-eyed in through the doorway
+at the collapsed floor. The fire lieutenant spoke, and the man turned
+and stared at him vacantly. Then his wide eyes wandered over to Freddy
+and Dave. A strange light glowed in them for a brief instant. He started
+to open his mouth as though to speak, but closed it slowly, instead. The
+fire lieutenant tugged on his arm, and then led him along the smoky
+hallway as he might lead a little child.
+
+"He must have caught a good smack," Dave grunted. "He sure doesn't know
+what the score is right now. He--My gosh!"
+
+"What's the matter?" Freddy asked quickly. "What's up?"
+
+Dave pointed a finger upward and grinned.
+
+"No guns any more," he said. "The raid's over. Guess you can't hear the
+All-Clear up here. Gee, do our uniforms look like a couple of wrecks!
+Wonder if we can get them cleaned at the hotel. Air Vice-Marshal
+Saunders will heave us out for a couple of bums if we report to him
+looking like this."
+
+Freddy looked back into the room and gulped.
+
+"And he'll never know how close we came to never reporting to him at
+all!" he breathed. "Say, I wish that fire lieutenant would hurry up with
+those stretchers. This woman's coming around a bit. Must be in pretty
+bad pain. Blast Hitler, anyway!"
+
+"Check!" Dave said grimly. "And if I ever get the chance to _blast_ him,
+how I'll do it, and how I'll love it!"
+
+At that moment the fire lieutenant returned with several of his men. And
+some fifteen minutes after that the three injury cases were safely in
+an ambulance that had arrived in the meantime, and on their way to a
+nearby hospital receiving station. The fire was practically out, and the
+heroic soot and grime-smeared firemen were getting ready to go elsewhere
+in the city and continue their valiant work. Guns were silent, and the
+long probing beams of the searchlights no longer pierced the sky. There
+was not even the drone of planes in the distance. Death had come to
+strike at London, and was now gone. Behind, it had left more wrecked
+buildings, more smouldering ruins, and more dead and dying. But it had
+also left behind something that Adolf Hitler and all of his followers
+would never be able to understand, and never be able to defeat. That was
+British courage, the superb fighting courage of the high and the low who
+now were fighting on a common ground shoulder to shoulder. London had
+once again been hurt, and she was bleeding. But London would never die,
+just as England would never die.
+
+Those thoughts trickled through Dave Dawson's brain as he stared up at
+the flame-tinted heavens. And once again he was thrilled to the very
+depths of his soul to be able to be a part of all this; to do his
+share, and fight and fight and fight until the war-thirsty dictators
+were no more--until they were nothing but an evil and ugly memory.
+
+"I say, you chaps! Blessed if I even know your names. You certainly
+deserve recognition for tonight's bit. Tell me your names, and I'll see
+that the Air Ministry hears of what you did."
+
+Dave lowered his gaze to see the fire lieutenant standing at his elbow.
+He looked at Freddy, and they both shook their heads.
+
+"We're glad we were able to help," Dave said. "Let's let it go at that.
+You and your men are the real heroes of London, sir. Freddy and I just
+happened along."
+
+"But that's silly!" the fire lieutenant protested, and wiped his smoke
+and soot-blackened face with a handkerchief that was just about as
+black. "This isn't your regular job, you know. And for you two to pitch
+in and give us a hand, why--"
+
+"Rot!" Freddy grunted. "I was scared pink every second, and know
+perfectly well I was only in your way."
+
+"Me, too," Dave nodded. "Let's just leave it that way. Where did that
+chap go--that man you led out?"
+
+"My word, lad!" the fire lieutenant gasped, and looked wildly about.
+"I'd plain forgotten all about him. Told him to wait and go along to the
+hospital with the others. Guess he must have wandered off. Well, I must
+be toddling along. More fires, you know. Good luck, you two. By George,
+you R.A.F. chaps are certainly right as rain, I say! Well, cheerio!"
+
+"Thumbs up!" the two boys chorused, and watched the fire lieutenant
+drive off up the street.
+
+When the car had turned the corner of a block, Dave grinned at Freddy.
+
+"Well, shall we make that black-out inspection tour you were yipping
+about?" he asked.
+
+"The one we've made is enough for tonight!" Freddy grunted. "Besides,
+we've got to do something about these uniforms, because tomorrow we have
+to--"
+
+"Yeah, I know," Dave cut in with a worried sigh. "We have to report to
+Air Vice-Marshal Saunders. Okay, let's see what we can do about these
+duds, and then hit the hay."
+
+"If Goering's little boys will let us," Freddy murmured as he dropped
+into step. "And I doubt it very much."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE
+
+_Air Vice-Marshal Saunders_
+
+
+Though Freddy Farmer had his doubts about Goering's "little boys," it so
+happened that they did not come back to London again that night. Bright
+and early next morning the two boys were up and inspecting what the
+hotel's valet service had been able to do about their uniforms. It
+wasn't a bad job of cleaning, but it wasn't a good job either. True,
+they would pass muster out at their own squadron, but the Air Ministry,
+where the Royal Air Force "brass hats" prowl about, was something else
+again.
+
+"If Air Vice-Marshal Saunders is one of those fussy chaps," Freddy said,
+and fingered a fire-scorched cuff of his tunic, "he'll probably bleat
+all over the place."
+
+"Well, what the heck?" Dave cried. "We'll just tell him what happened,
+and add that we didn't have time to get new uniforms."
+
+"Didn't have the cash, you mean," Freddy said with a grin.
+
+"Same thing, isn't it?" Dave shrugged. "Well, we've got to take our
+chances, that's all, and hope that he is an okay guy. How do you feel?"
+
+"Stiff as a board," Freddy said, and moved his shoulders. "I feel as if
+I'd been holding up that building all night."
+
+"Know just what you mean," Dave chuckled. "But you're mistaken."
+
+"Mistaken?" Freddy echoed, and glanced up with a puzzled frown on his
+good-looking face.
+
+"Sure," Dave said with a nod. "About holding up that building. You only
+held up half of it. My aching joints tell me I must have been holding up
+the other half. Well, let's go hunt up some chow. Boy! It's a swell day,
+anyway--for whatever is going to happen."
+
+Dave moved over to the bomb-shattered window and looked out. There was
+still a thin pall of smoke hovering over London like a grim reminder of
+what had happened during the dark hours. On high, however, there was not
+a cloud to be seen. The sky was a soft blue bathed in the golden rays of
+the rising sun. When you looked up into that sky, it was hard to believe
+that death had struck just a few hours before, and that right now it was
+poised and waiting to strike again when darkness returned.
+
+"What a pip of a day for flying!" Dave breathed softly. "I sure hope Air
+Vice-Marshal Saunders doesn't keep us hanging around for very long. Me,
+I want to get back to the squadron and get to work. The Jerries are sure
+to take a crack at us on a day like this. Boy! This is almost as good as
+the kind of weather we have back home."
+
+"You mean twice as good," Freddy snorted in his ear. "But hurry up and
+button your tunic, or you'll be spouting poetry in another couple of
+minutes. I'm hungry."
+
+Dave sighed and shook his head.
+
+"There's a man for you!" he groaned. "Beauty, war, fire, famine, or
+flood--they don't mean a thing to him! Only his stomach. Well, you're in
+for a big surprise, my young fellow. There's one thing they don't allow
+in the R.A.F."
+
+"What?" Freddy demanded as they walked out of their room.
+
+"I won't tell you," Dave grunted, and headed for the elevators. "I think
+I'll let you find out for yourself. But no, you are a pal of mine,
+aren't you?"
+
+"Oh, come off it!" Freddy growled. "I'll bite. What is this wonderful
+ruling I don't know about?"
+
+Dave jabbed him in the stomach with his thumb.
+
+"They don't let you wear a corset in the R.A.F., my friend," he said.
+"So watch how much you eat. Also, you might get stuck the next time some
+Messerschmitt pilot makes you bail out. A Spitfire's cockpit isn't any
+too big, you know."
+
+"Indeed I do know," Freddy grunted, and watched the elevator slide up
+and come to a stop. "And that's something I've been wanting to ask you,
+Dave."
+
+"Well, then, shoot," Dave said. "I'll always help a pal out with the
+correct answer."
+
+Freddy didn't speak directly. He waited until they were in the
+elevator. It contained two men in civilian clothes and two women. Looks
+of frank admiration were cast their way, but Freddy pretended not to
+notice. He stared at Dave, and there was a look of baby innocence and
+curiosity in his eyes.
+
+"You'll really tell me, Dave?" he asked in a voice just a trifle loud.
+"You'll really give me the answer?"
+
+"Sure," Dave said without thinking. "Just ask me the question. I'll give
+you the answer. What?"
+
+"It's your legs, Dave," Freddy said. "I've often wondered. They're so
+confoundedly long and skinny, just what do you do with them in the
+cockpit of your Hurricane? Is it true that the mechanics have cut holes
+in the fuselage so's you can let them hang out over the leading edge of
+the wing? But what about when you're landing? What touches the ground
+first, your feet or the wheels?"
+
+When Freddy stopped, Dave's ears, neck and face were a bright red, and
+there was a look of murder in his eyes. Everybody in the elevator was
+roaring with laughter. It was all he could do to keep from taking Freddy
+by the throat and throttling him right then and there. However, he
+could take kidding as well as dish it out, and by the time the elevator
+had reached the lobby level he was laughing as loud as anybody.
+
+"Okay, pick up the marbles for that one, sonny boy," he said to Freddy
+as they headed for the breakfast room. "But next time it's my turn. And,
+boy, look out, what I mean!"
+
+"Don't worry!" Freddy chuckled, and squeezed his arm. "With you around,
+a chap has to watch out constantly."
+
+All through breakfast they maintained a steady stream of kidding
+chit-chat talk. Of course each knew what was really uppermost in the
+other's mind: one Air Vice-Marshal Saunders. Neither of them mentioned
+it, though, until the meal was over and it was time to go and report at
+the Air Ministry located but a few blocks from their hotel.
+
+It was Dave who brought the subject up. He slid a tip beside his empty
+coffee cup, looked at Freddy, and pushed back his chair.
+
+"Well, let's quit stalling and go see what it's all about," he said.
+"I'm going nuts with worry and wonder, aren't you?"
+
+"Am I!" Freddy breathed, and gave a little shake of his head. "To tell
+you the truth, I feel exactly like a criminal waiting for the jury to
+come in with the news of his fate. What do you suppose--?"
+
+"Don't ask!" Dave cut in. "I've been slowly going nuts asking myself the
+same question over and over again. Oh, heck, let's go. They can't do any
+more than shoot us!"
+
+They walked the short distance to the Air Ministry in mutual thoughtful
+silence. Just inside the wide front doors of the building, they gave
+their names, ranks, and squadron numbers to an officer seated at a desk
+that was practically covered with rows of bell buttons. When they added
+that they were reporting on orders to Air Vice-Marshal Saunders, the
+officer shot a scowling glance at their uniforms. He didn't say
+anything, however. He simply nodded, wrote something on a card and then
+jabbed a button and picked up a Husho-Phone. A moment later he hung up
+and stabbed another button. An R.A.F. staff sergeant seemed to pop down
+out of the air. The non-commissioned officer saluted smartly. The
+officer at the desk handed him the card.
+
+"Take these two officers to Air Vice-Marshal Saunders," he said in a
+crisp voice.
+
+The staff sergeant took the card with his left hand, saluted smartly
+again with his right, and looked at Dave and Freddy. They nodded. The
+sergeant clicked his heels, executed a smart about-face and went off
+down the hall. Dave and Freddy followed.
+
+"Holy smoke!" Dave breathed out of the corner of his mouth. "Did you get
+a load of all the bell buttons on that desk, Freddy? I wonder if he's
+got one that'll do it? There sure are enough."
+
+"Do what?" Freddy whispered back. "What are you talking about?"
+
+"A button he can jab to make Hitler pop out of a secret door in the
+wall," Dave chuckled. "Boy, wouldn't it be something if all those
+connecting wires should get mixed up! I think I could enjoy myself at
+that officer's desk some quiet night with nobody around."
+
+"I can just imagine!" Freddy grunted. "And what a madhouse this place
+would be the next morning! Well, forget it, my lad. There's a chap at
+that desk twenty-four hours a day, I fancy."
+
+Dave glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see the officer
+reaching out to punch another button. He sighed heavily.
+
+"It's still a swell idea," he murmured. "Well, we're getting close."
+
+The office of Air Vice-Marshal Saunders was at the rear of the third
+floor. The sergeant turned the two boys over to a smartly uniformed
+flight lieutenant in the outer office. A moment or two later the flight
+lieutenant ushered them into the presence of the high ranking Air Force
+official. As Dave saluted and looked at the tall, well built figure, a
+strange sense of relief flooded through him. There wasn't any worry in
+him any more, only wonder. Air Vice-Marshal Saunders had not reached his
+position of high responsibility through political pull, nor by knowing
+the right sort of people. You had only to glance at the rows of
+decoration ribbons under his pilot's wings over the left upper pocket of
+his tunic to know that. There was the red, blue, and red ribbon of the
+Distinguished Service Order (the D.S.O.). There was the blue and white
+ribbon of the Distinguished Flying Cross (the D.F.C.). And on that
+ribbon was the small silver rosette, or bar, which meant that its wearer
+had performed a feat of air valor for which he had been granted the
+D.F.C. a second time. There was also the Air Force Cross, and the Mons
+ribbon, denoting that Saunders had been with that valiant British army
+that had met the Germans at Mons in 1914, in the First World War. And,
+of course, there were ribbons to show that he had been decorated by many
+other governments. No, one look at Air Vice-Marshal Saunders' row of
+ribbons, and Dave knew that here was a real soldier, a real pilot, and a
+man who had won and deserved the high position he now held.
+
+The vice-marshal smiled and nodded acceptance of their salute.
+
+"At ease, gentlemen," he said, and pointed to some chairs. "Sit down.
+We'll have to wait a bit. The colonel is delayed, but he'll be here
+shortly. Ah! You were in London last night, eh?"
+
+Both boys looked blank for a moment. Then Freddy found his tongue.
+
+"Why--why, yes, sir," he stammered. "But how did you guess, sir?"
+
+"And I'll bet five pounds," the senior officer said with a laugh, "that
+you two have been worrying yourselves sick that I would hit the
+ceiling, and rant and rave all over the place, eh?"
+
+"Why, yes--sure--I mean--" Dave stumbled and stopped. "I don't think I
+understand, sir."
+
+The vice-marshal laughed again and pointed a finger.
+
+"Your uniforms," he said. "Souvenirs from Hitler, I fancy. Did a bomb
+fall on you, or did you go out hunting for one? Knowing you fighter
+command lads, I'm guessing it was the latter."
+
+The words banished the last of any fears that might have been lingering
+in the boys' minds. They relaxed completely and laughed.
+
+"It was about halfway between, sir," Freddy explained. "I mean, a couple
+of them landed close to the hotel, so--well, we went out and took a
+look, you might say."
+
+"We didn't bring extra uniforms, sir," Dave added. "And this was the
+best the hotel could do. I'm sorry, sir."
+
+"Sorry?" the air vice-marshal echoed. "About a little bit of
+water-soaked and fire-scorched cloth? Rot! It's not the looks of a
+uniform that really counts; it's what's inside that matters. I won't
+push you for information, but I fancy you did more than just take a
+look. I--Ah! There's the colonel now."
+
+The boys heard the door open in back of them. They both got quickly to
+their feet, turned around, and stopped dead with their eyes popping in
+sheer amazement. A big man in civilian clothes was walking into the
+room. He had a strip of surgeon plaster over his left eye, and his left
+hand was completely hidden by a bandage. He walked with a slight limp.
+The two boys watched him, speechless. They stared at him as though he
+were a ghost, because it was the man who had been trapped under the desk
+in that bomb-blasted building the night before.
+
+"Ah, good morning, Colonel," they heard Air Vice-Marshal Saunders say.
+"Had a bit of an accident, eh? Or is this just another of Intelligence's
+disguises?"
+
+"Not this time, sir," the colonel said with a tight smile. "Caught a bit
+of trouble during that mess last night, and--Well, bless my stars!"
+
+The injured man had looked at Dave and Freddy for the first time. His
+eyes grew wide with amazement, and he gave a little shake of his head as
+though to clear his vision.
+
+"Great guns, you two?" he gasped. Then, turning to Air Vice-Marshal
+Saunders: "Are these two Pilot Officers Dawson and Farmer--the two I'm
+supposed to meet?"
+
+"That's right, Colonel Fraser," the air vice-marshal replied. "Why?
+You've already met them?"
+
+"And jolly well right I have!" the colonel exclaimed. "But for these two
+chaps, and a fire lieutenant, I wouldn't be here now. I was in my secret
+office last night with two of my agents, and my secretary, when a bomb
+caught the place fair and square. We were all trapped under the
+wreckage. These two lads got us out a split second before the floor gave
+way and dropped everything down onto the next floor. Great guns, this is
+a small world. And say, you two, I'm deucedly sorry about last night."
+
+"Sorry, sir?" Dave echoed, and gave him a questioning look.
+
+The man reached up his good hand and touched the strip of plaster over
+his eye.
+
+"Got a bit of a crack, and it put me off my napper for a spell," he
+said. "I was pretty much in a daze while you lads were saving our lives.
+When I came around, I found myself in my regular office in the War
+Office building. Must have walked all the way there. Everything came
+back to me clear as day, but you and those fire fighting chaps had left
+the spot by the time I got back there. But I certainly want to express
+my heartfelt thanks to you two, now. I certainly owe my life to you."
+
+"We're glad we were of service," Freddy said, as embarrassed crimson
+seeped up into his cheeks. "How about the others, sir? Are they getting
+along all right?"
+
+"Coming along fine," the other said. "Miss Trumble, my secretary, will
+be out of things for a bit, and I'll certainly miss her. Smartest woman
+in the service. But that's a jolly sight better than losing her
+completely. By Jove, this is like a cinema thriller, isn't it! My word!"
+
+Dave and Freddy moved their feet uncomfortably and glanced at Air
+Vice-Marshal Saunders. The high ranking officer was grinning broadly and
+slowly nodding his head up and down.
+
+"So you simply just went to _take a look_, eh?" he murmured. "Knew
+perfectly well that it was much more than that. You two certainly have
+the reputation for chasing after trouble, _and_ whipping it."[1]
+
+[Footnote 1: _Dave Dawson at Dunkirk._]
+
+The air vice-marshal suddenly stopped short. The smile faded from his
+face, and he stared gravely at the two young R.A.F. pilots for a moment
+or two.
+
+"And that is just why you are here," he said presently. "This officer,
+as you probably have guessed already, is Colonel Fraser, of British
+Intelligence. He is the one who wishes to speak with you. I only
+suggested to him that you two should have first chance to listen to what
+he has to say. Shall we all sit down? Colonel, are you ready to start?"
+
+The Intelligence officer seemed to have difficulty in tearing his eyes
+from the two boys. He finally succeeded, and nodded. And as though a
+curtain had been drawn across his face, he too became grave and
+unsmiling.
+
+"Yes, of course, sir," he said in a flat voice. "Let's get on with it at
+once."
+
+As Dave sat down on his chair again, his heart was pounding so hard he
+feared it would push right out through his chest. His throat was dry
+with excitement, and there was that familiar tingling at the back of his
+neck. The tingling was a sure sign that danger and action were waiting
+for him just ahead. He glanced at Freddy and saw the look in his pal's
+eyes. That look said that Freddy was thinking and wondering the same
+things.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX
+
+_England Must Never Die_
+
+
+It was a few moments before Colonel Fraser of British Intelligence began
+talking. He sat staring unseeingly down at his bandaged left hand as
+though he were choosing the words he would speak. Presently, though, he
+lifted his head and looked at Dave and Freddy.
+
+"Adolf Hitler's greatest goal in life is to crush the British Empire
+completely," the Colonel began speaking. "No matter what other battles
+or minor engagements his troops and his air force may win, they are but
+steps toward his great goal--the defeat of England. However, in order to
+defeat England, Hitler must invade and conquer these British Isles. He
+cannot bring us to our knees from across the Channel. He has got to
+come over here and beat us into submission. Invasion of England! Those
+words are on the tongue of every German today."
+
+The colonel paused and pulled a battered pipe from his pocket and a
+pouch of tobacco. He started to fill the pipe, then stopped and glanced
+questioningly at Air Vice-Marshal Saunders. The high ranking R.A.F.
+officer smiled and nodded his head.
+
+"Certainly, Colonel," he said. "Go right ahead and smoke."
+
+The Intelligence officer smiled his thanks for permission and lighted up
+his pipe.
+
+"Yes, invasion of England is the German password today," he said when
+the pipe was going. "And ever since Dunkirk and the fall of France the
+Germans have been preparing for the great attempt. We have been
+preparing, too--preparing to meet that invasion and throw it back into
+the Channel. I do not have to tell you of the preparations we have made.
+You've seen them countless times from the air, and you have no doubt
+seen them on the ground. Also, like every other man in uniform in
+England, you both have been constantly on the alert and ready to answer
+an invasion attempt alarm. Well, the attempt was not made right after
+Dunkirk. It was not made in the month of July. Nor was it made during
+the month of August. Why?"
+
+Colonel Fraser paused to tamp down the tobacco in his pipe with a
+fingertip.
+
+"Why?" he repeated. He shrugged and made a little gesture with his pipe.
+"I do not know," he said. "No one in England knows. As a matter of fact,
+I'm quite sure that only Hitler knows. Of course we can guess at a
+thousand reasons why the attempt has not been made, yet. But it is
+possible that they might all be wrong. This much we _do_ know. It has
+not been made, yet. And this is something we can also be equally
+positive is true. The desire to invade and conquer England _has not left
+Hitler's mind for a single second_. The instant he believes that all is
+ready, he will give his generals the order to invade us. I mean, by
+that, to _attempt_ to invade us!"
+
+The colonel gave some more attention to his pipe and then continued.
+
+"Naturally, we haven't been so foolish as simply to prepare in every
+possible way we can, and then sit back and wait for him to strike. The
+R.A.F. Bombing Command has been blasting away at Nazi invasion bases on
+the French, Belgian, and Netherlands coasts night after night, as you
+both well know. The Navy has been on constant patrol seeking for signs
+of invasion. It is not known by many people, but we have even done a
+little invading of our own. Small detachments of sapper troops have
+slipped ashore in France under the cover of darkness, and made short
+raids as far inland as Lille. And as you two well know, the R.A.F. has
+made countless photo and reconnaissance patrols over the occupied
+countries. And lastly, but by no means least, British Intelligence
+agents have been sent into the occupied countries, and they have been
+working day and night, too, in an effort to ferret out scraps of
+information regarding Hitler's invasion plans. Now!"
+
+The Intelligence officer paused for breath, or perhaps for emphasis.
+
+"Now, this is what I'm leading up to," he said. "The raids we've made,
+the pictures we've taken, the reports of pilots, and the reports of my
+own Intelligence agents indicate very strongly that the invasion attempt
+will be made soon. Perhaps in a couple of weeks, and perhaps in a
+couple of days. This month, September, the tides and the weather will
+all be in Hitler's favor. Frankly, I would be willing to stake my life
+that the attempt will be made sometime this month, but I have no idea
+whether it will be near the first of the month, or near the last, or
+even in the middle. That date, however, is something we have absolutely
+_got to find out_. And that is why I am now speaking to you two chaps."
+
+A quivering sensation like a charge of high voltage electricity shot
+through Dave. A thousand questions hovered on the tip of his tongue, but
+he held them in check.
+
+"If there is anything I can do, sir," he said quietly, "I most certainly
+want to do it."
+
+"And so do I!" Freddy exclaimed with deep feeling. "No matter what it
+is, sir."
+
+"I told you, Colonel," Air Vice-Marshal Saunders spoke up. "I told you
+you could count on Dawson and Farmer."
+
+The Intelligence officer seemed not to hear. He sat staring at the two
+youths. Dave had the strange feeling that the man was staring right into
+his brain and reading the thoughts there. A moment or so later the
+Colonel gave a short nod of his head and continued.
+
+"No matter what Hitler tries, we'll beat him at it," he said. "If the
+invasion attempt comes tonight, we're ready, and we'll beat him. That,
+however, is not the way we want to beat him. We want to beat him
+_before_ he's hardly got started; to smash him _before_ he's even come
+within sight of our shores. In order to do that, though, _we must know
+the exact date set for the attempt_. That date can be learned. In fact,
+I almost learned it one day last week. I didn't because a German
+Messerschmitt pilot shot down and killed the man who was bringing that
+information back here to me in England!"
+
+The colonel suddenly stopped and seemed to have trouble with his throat.
+He swallowed a couple of times, then half turned and shot a faint
+frowning glance at Air Vice-Marshal Saunders. Dave looked at the R.A.F.
+officer just in time to catch the glint of deep sympathy and feeling
+that flickered through his eyes. Then Colonel Fraser went on speaking
+again.
+
+"I spoke of sending my Intelligence agents to the occupied countries.
+Well, some of them have been there since the war started. A few of them
+have been there all their lives--were born there, in fact. Intelligence
+and Secret Service agents are not always recognized citizens of the
+country they serve, you know. The agent of whom I speak now is a
+Belgian. All during the last war he fought side by side with British
+soldiers to free his country from Germany's grip. He is too old to fight
+as a soldier in this war, but he is fighting again to free his country
+from Germany's iron grip--Hitler's iron grip. He is doing his fighting
+in the dark and under cover, but more often than not that kind of
+fighting is more dangerous than fighting in the open. Every second of
+the day and night his life is in danger. He never knows when the hand of
+the German Gestapo may drop on his shoulder. He does not even expect the
+courtesy of being captured as a spy, in fact. He fully expects to be
+shot in the back the moment the Nazis realize who he is. But that
+constant danger does not stop him fighting for one single instant. He
+loves Belgium, the real Belgium, and he will gladly give his life to
+help England free Belgium of the Nazi chains of indescribable tyranny. I
+could talk all day of the things that man has already done for England's
+cause, but I won't. Just let me say that he has done enough to win the
+Victoria Cross a dozen times over."
+
+The colonel took a moment to light his pipe, which had gone out. He
+puffed smoke toward the ceiling, and smiled faintly.
+
+"That man has gathered more valuable information for me," he said, "than
+the whole British Intelligence Service put together. And, strange as it
+may sound, I have never met him personally. I hope some day to have that
+great honor, but somehow I rather doubt that I will. Anyway, he is the
+one man who can tell us when the invasion attempt will be made. Now,
+wait! I can tell from the expression that just this instant came into
+your faces, that you're wondering why he hasn't sent the information
+along to me. Well, he has tried to, several times. The last time was
+only last week. However, though I hate the very thought of the Nazis, I
+do not consider them as blind, stupid fools. They are ruthless and
+barbaric, but they are also very brainy, and are cunning and fiendishly
+clever beyond words. Naturally, they wish to keep their invasion attempt
+date a secret just as much as we wish to find it out. And so they are
+leaving no stone unturned to see that it remains a secret. To give it to
+you straight from the shoulder, five of my best agents have contacted
+this Belgian, but not one of them has returned to England alive. Every
+one has been caught in the invisible web the Nazis have thrown about
+Europe."
+
+A cold lump suddenly formed in Dave's stomach, but he sat perfectly
+motionless and kept his eyes on Colonel Fraser's face. After a moment
+the cold lump gradually disappeared. He could guess now why he and
+Freddy had been summoned to Air Vice-Marshal Saunders' office. There was
+a job to be done--a job with danger and death constantly hovering about.
+But after the first start the truth had given him, he no longer felt
+fright or even slight uneasiness. He felt only the desire to serve
+humanity and civilization to the last ounce of his strength, and to the
+last drop of his blood. If the world and civilization went down under
+Hitler's heel, then life would not be worth the living. He felt that way
+as he returned the colonel's steady gaze. And the quiet rigidity of
+Freddy sitting in the chair next to his told him that his English pal
+felt exactly the same way.
+
+"I can see you two are getting the point," Colonel Fraser suddenly shot
+at them. "I want to be fair with you, so I ask you this question. Do
+you want me to continue, or would you rather return to active duty at
+your squadron?"
+
+"We want you to continue, sir," Dave said, speaking for himself and
+Freddy.
+
+"Yes, quite," Freddy added. "What can we do to serve, sir?"
+
+The Intelligence officer smiled briefly; then his face became hard and
+stern, and there was a ringing note in his voice as he spoke.
+
+"There is only one way in and out of Europe, today," he said. "That's by
+air. This Belgian I spoke of lives in Antwerp. The address is Sixteen
+Rue Chartres. That street is down by the docks on the right bank of the
+Scheldt River. He was a marine engineer in his day, and the last I knew
+he was working for the Germans occupying the city, doing the odd jobs
+his age would permit. He is close to seventy. He is blind in one eye,
+and he is not over five feet six inches tall. His hair is grey, of
+course, and he has a beard. All this I'm saying I'll repeat in detail
+later. I'm just running over it briefly, now, to give you some picture
+of the man I hope you can find. Not only hope, but _pray_ you will find.
+
+"But to get on with this: I am convinced that it is sheer suicide for
+any of my agents to try and contact this Belgian. Antwerp, like every
+other occupied city of importance, is policed day and night by the
+Gestapo and German counter-espionage agents. Therefore a man would
+create suspicion no matter how well he might be established in the city.
+And remember, I said the only way in _and_ out is by air. This highly
+important job has got to be tackled by one or more pilots. Now--and
+don't take offense, you chaps--a couple of _Belgian peasant boys_ would
+be less likely to be noticed by the Germans than grown men. And if those
+two Belgian peasant boys could _fly a plane_, then so much the better.
+You follow me, eh?"
+
+"Right with you, sir!" Dave blurted out enthusiastically. "And Freddy
+and I both happen to speak the languages, too."
+
+Colonel Fraser laughed.
+
+"Don't worry," he chuckled, "I had checked on _that_ little detail
+before I asked the air vice-marshal, here, to send for you. Yes, you
+both are boys--though doing the job of men, believe me--and you both are
+pilots, and you both speak the languages that will be necessary. And,
+perhaps the most important thing, you have the courage and the spirit
+that will keep you going until the job is done. Let me say right here,
+though, I can't spread the danger angle too thick. It _is_ a mighty
+dangerous job. To give it to you from the shoulder again, everything
+will be in the Germans' favor, not in yours. If either of you is
+caught--well, no power on earth will be able to save you. The Nazis will
+shoot too quickly for that."
+
+The Intelligence officer stopped speaking in order to let the true
+meaning of his words sink home.
+
+"We know how to shoot a bit ourselves, sir," Freddy spoke up in a steady
+voice. "So I guess you might say that evens things up some, you know."
+
+"We'll take our chances against any Nazi with itching trigger fingers,"
+Dave said grimly. "But I suppose you've got a definite plan of action
+for us, sir? I mean--"
+
+Dave cut himself off as the Intelligence officer nodded his head
+abruptly.
+
+"Certainly," he said. "As you know, the Bomber Command is making raids
+deep into Germany night after night. Well, tonight you two will go along
+in one of our bombers, as passengers, you might say. It will be in a
+bomber of a formation heading for Berlin. They will head for Berlin on a
+flight route that will take them close to Antwerp. At a certain point
+you and Farmer will bail out. You'll be dressed as refugee peasant lads,
+of course, but as the plane will pass over high, you'll have oxygen
+masks and chest tanks for the parachute drop. When you land you will
+bury your parachutes and masks, and make your way to Sixteen Rue
+Chartres."
+
+Colonel Fraser shrugged and gestured with his pipe, which had long since
+gone out again.
+
+"That ends the first part of the plan," he continued. "The instant you
+bail out, you will be on your own. You may even lose touch with each
+other coming down in the darkness. But _Sixteen Rue Chartres_ is your
+goal. And the man you are to get in touch with is known as Pierre
+Deschaud. He will give you the information we must have. He knows the
+date, I'll--I'll stake my life on that. He will give you the
+information, and he will do what he can to help you get back to England.
+There are several air fields at Antwerp. That we know, of course, from
+daily photos we have taken. We also know that two or three squadrons of
+the German _Luftwaffe_ are stationed there. Pierre Deschaud will help
+you steal one of the planes for your flight back to England."
+
+Colonel Fraser stopped abruptly, got out of his chair and began to pace
+the room. Suddenly he stopped in front of them.
+
+"Any questions?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, sir," Freddy spoke up before Dave could open his mouth. "There was
+one thing you didn't mention. We may know who Pierre Deschaud is when we
+meet him, but how is he to know who _we_ are? Isn't there some code word
+or sign he would recognize? After all, we could be anybody, as far as
+he's concerned, perhaps even Nazis trying to smoke him out."
+
+The stern look suddenly left Colonel Fraser's face. Beaming, he leaned
+over and patted Freddy's back.
+
+"Good lad!" he said with sincere feeling. "That's just the question I
+wanted you to ask. Didn't tell you because I wanted to see if you'd
+think of bringing it up. Yes, there is a code word. It is Houyet.
+Remember that. _Houyet!_ That's the name of the little village in which
+Deschaud was born almost seventy years ago. When he hears you say that,
+he'll know that you come from me. And now, I've said enough for a while.
+We'll meet again before tonight and go over every little item in detail.
+I do, however, want to say this. I am a colonel, and chief of British
+Intelligence, but it is chaps like you, chaps with your courage, and
+your will to fight against no matter what odds, who will win this war
+for England and the rest of the decent part of the world. I salute you
+for accepting this dangerous mission, and I also salute you because I
+know in my heart that you will win through. And so, until later in the
+day, gentlemen."
+
+A minute more and Colonel Fraser had taken his departure. Dave and
+Freddy stood silently staring at each other; grimly reading each other's
+thoughts--two separate thoughts that really blended into one. Here was a
+real chance to serve, and they would not flinch or falter for a single
+instant.
+
+"Well, Dawson and Farmer," Air Vice-Marshal Saunders suddenly broke the
+few moments of silence, "England is counting on you again. And like
+Colonel Fraser, I, too, know that you will come through. I, too, salute
+you."
+
+Dave's heart looped over with pride as the vice-marshal clicked his
+heels and saluted smartly. Dave and Freddy solemnly returned the salute,
+and their hearts were close to bursting with the thrilling joy of that
+moment.
+
+"And now," the air vice-marshal said as he lowered his hand, "I want to
+tell you something that may help if the going should get hard. It's
+something that proves the trust and belief that Colonel Fraser has in
+you--something that will make you come through, if only for his sake.
+You recall he spoke of almost receiving that information last week? Of
+how the man flying it back to England was trapped and shot down by a
+Messerschmitt pilot?"
+
+"Yes, sir," Freddy said as Dave nodded.
+
+"That man was only twenty years old," Air Vice-Marshal Saunders said,
+"just a few years older than you chaps. He could fly a plane, but he
+couldn't serve in the R.A.F., or in any of the active fighting branches
+of the service, because of physical reasons. He was part cripple. He
+tried to serve England as an Intelligence agent. He did valuable work
+for which his memory will long be honored. He gave all he had, his life,
+for England. His name was Richard Fraser. He was Colonel Fraser's only
+son. For his sake, as well as for England, you must succeed."
+
+Dave had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could speak.
+
+"Dick Fraser," he murmured more to himself. "That's a swell name, and I
+bet he was a swell fellow, too. You bet we'll succeed, sir. If it's the
+last thing we do, we'll find this Pierre Deschaud and come back with the
+information England needs."
+
+Freddy Farmer cleared his own throat and nodded vigorously.
+
+"You have our word on that, sir," he said evenly. "We won't let you
+down. We won't let England down!"
+
+"Amen!" Air Vice-Marshal Saunders whispered softly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN
+
+_Brave Wings Fly Eastward_
+
+
+Night had come again to England--black night and the throbbing drone of
+Nazi planes winging inland from the shoreline of the Channel; swarm
+after swarm of Goering's vultures who would blast helpless men, women,
+and children with their deadly loads of bombs, and then return to their
+bases and report the great number of hits they had scored upon strictly
+military objectives.
+
+Standing on the edge of a night-shadowed field several miles north of
+London, Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer watched the play of searchlight
+beams, and the glow of burning buildings in the distance. The sound of
+the bursting bombs was like the dull rumble of thunder far away. But
+every now and then when the wind changed slightly, they caught the faint
+chatter of the machine guns of night-flying Spitfires and Hurricane
+pilots hunting out the raiders high up in the sky.
+
+For several minutes they had been standing there watching the sight and
+not speaking. There wasn't anything to say except express the desire to
+be up there doing their bit along with their R.A.F. comrades. And to
+express such a wish would have been just a waste of breath. Even though
+it had suddenly been granted, neither of them would have accepted. They
+had their own job to do. They had pledged themselves to carry it through
+to a successful end, and neither of them would turn back now even though
+he were given the opportunity.
+
+One hour ago they had reported to the squadron leader of this Bombing
+Command unit. He had of course been informed of the flight they were to
+make, but only up to the point where they would bail out somewhere close
+to Antwerp. He had welcomed them gravely, but they had not missed the
+gleam of quiet admiration in his eye. The squadron leader had
+introduced them to the pilot and crew of the Wellington bomber in which
+they would make the flight. Flight arrangements had been quietly
+discussed, and they had been supplied with parachute packs, and oxygen
+masks and tanks. That done with, the pilots and crews scheduled to make
+the raid had retired to the Ready-Room for last minute instructions,
+leaving Freddy and Dave to discuss last minute items between themselves.
+
+There had been nothing for them to discuss, however. Every possible
+angle of their coming venture had been hashed over and over during a
+second meeting with Colonel Fraser and Air Vice-Marshal Saunders. A
+detailed picture of Pierre Deschaud was stamped in their brains. They
+had poured over a detailed map of the Scheldt River waterfront until
+they knew it by heart. Every little thing that might help, Colonel
+Fraser had told them. Ten times, no, a hundred times, they had gone
+carefully over the whole thing from beginning to end. There was nothing
+for them to discuss between themselves, now. There was nothing to do but
+wait until the four plane flight of Wellington bombers, powered by twin
+1000 horsepower Bristol "Pegasus" engines, was ready to take off.
+
+"I bet those guys are busting to ask us a million questions," Dave
+eventually broke the silence between them. "You could see it in their
+eyes when we were introduced."
+
+"Well, you certainly can't blame them," Freddy replied with a chuckle.
+"Just look at these duds we're wearing. And by the by, you certainly
+won't break any girl's heart as a Belgian peasant boy, my pal. Frankly,
+you look a sight."
+
+"Listen to who's talking!" Dave snorted. "That dizzy-looking get-up of
+yours is the one thing that has me worried about this flight."
+
+"Ah, so the chap _is_ worried!" Freddy murmured. "I thought so!"
+
+"Darn tooting!" Dave said. "One look at you and both of the Pegasus
+engines on the bus are liable to up and stop working just like that. And
+then where'll we be? See what I mean?"
+
+"I doubt if they'll even get us off the ground if you get close to
+them!" Freddy scoffed. "So be sure and stay well back out of sight. But
+to be serious, Dave, what do you really think of our chances? Oh, I know
+we'll go the limit, but what do you really think?"
+
+Dave didn't answer for a moment. He turned his back to the scene of
+night aerial warfare to the south and stared unseeingly at the four
+"Wellies" with their propellers slowly ticking over.
+
+"That's a tough question, Freddy," he finally said. "To tell you the
+truth, I really don't know just what I _do_ think. As a matter of
+fact--No, skip that."
+
+"Skip what, Dave?" Freddy prodded earnestly. "What were you going to
+say? I really want to know."
+
+Dave looked at him and smiled a trifle wryly.
+
+"Maybe I'm getting old too fast, Freddy," he said. "Or maybe I'm just
+getting too many cockeyed ideas for my age. But from what I've already
+seen of this war, nothing is absolutely certain. I mean, you can plot
+and plan how you're going to do a thing until you're blue in the face;
+get every little thing all set so that it's--well, so that it's in the
+bag, as we say back home. Then, _zingo_! Something pops up that knocks
+all your plans completely haywire. And--Oh, nuts! I guess I'm like a kid
+whistling in the dark."
+
+"And I feel exactly the same," Freddy said quietly. "But go on. What
+else, Dave?"
+
+"Oh, skip it!" Dave grunted. "Maybe I'm just getting cold feet at the
+last minute."
+
+Freddy stepped close to him.
+
+"Would you like me to bash you one, my American pal?" he asked sharply.
+"Well, just stop talking that way about yourself. Cold feet? What rot!
+After what I saw you do at the Dunkirk show? Rubbish! No, Dave, don't
+talk that way to _me_. Now, what else were you going to say?"
+
+Dave grinned and playfully rasped his knuckles across Freddy's jutting
+chin.
+
+"One in a million, that's you," he said softly. "One in five million, or
+name any figure. Well, it's the old hunch business working again, if you
+must know, Freddy. I mean, everything seems too pat, too cut and dried.
+I've got the hunch that something we couldn't even dream of is going to
+pop up and dump us into a mess of trouble before we're back in England
+again."
+
+"And right you are!" Freddy breathed softly. "I have a feeling just like
+that, myself. Got it first this afternoon, but I didn't say a word for
+fear the colonel might take it the wrong way. He might have thought I
+was hedging and trying to back out. You know, make excuses?"
+
+"Nobody would ever think you were trying to back out of anything!" Dave
+said loyally. "But what was it that popped into your mind, anyway?"
+
+"Pierre Deschaud," Freddy said.
+
+Dave shot him a puzzled look.
+
+"Huh?" he echoed. "Pierre Deschaud? So what?"
+
+Freddy hesitated a moment and fumbled with the hem of his coarse peasant
+jacket.
+
+"Sheer rot, probably," he said after a moment. "But a chap is bound to
+think of things, you know. Colonel Fraser admits that word from Deschaud
+cannot get through to him except by one of the colonel's agents. He also
+admits that the last five agents who have gotten in touch with Deschaud
+have failed to return. They have either disappeared or died, or both.
+Well, that makes me wonder a lot."
+
+"Well, he said the Nazis were smart and clever guys," Dave pointed out.
+
+"Sure he did," Freddy nodded. "But don't you get the idea, Dave?"
+
+"The old brain has swallowed up so much today, it's a blank," Dave
+confessed. "What are you driving at, anyway?"
+
+"What proof is there that Pierre Deschaud _is still alive_?" Freddy
+asked suddenly.
+
+Dave gasped and went back a step as the real significance of the words
+came home to him.
+
+"Holy catfish!" he eventually breathed. "That _is_ a thought, isn't it!"
+
+"And one worth a lot of consideration, too," Freddy nodded. "As I said,
+it may all be a lot of rot, but chew on this a bit, Dave. It is possible
+that the Nazis have trapped and caught this Pierre Deschaud, but aren't
+saying anything about it. Maybe they are using him, or somebody exactly
+like him, as bait for the colonel's agents. Don't forget, the last five
+agents were caught!"
+
+Dave swallowed hard and wiped a hand across his forehead, which had
+become just a wee bit moist--and not from the warmth of the night air,
+either!
+
+"Gee, you think of the nicest things!" he muttered. "But you could be
+right as rain, Freddy, and no fooling. We've got to watch our step. And
+_how_ we've got to watch it! Pick up the marbles, Freddy. You've got the
+old brain, and no fooling! Any other ideas?"
+
+"No, that one's enough," Freddy said grimly. "Yes, we've got to watch
+our step, but--well--that is--I mean, it doesn't make any difference,
+Dave, does it?"
+
+"Any what?" Dave echoed, and stared at him. "You mean, should we call it
+off? Hey! One more crack like that, and--Oh, just the old kidder, huh?"
+
+Freddy was chuckling as he grabbed Dave's arms.
+
+"I'm sorry, Dave," he said. "I just couldn't pass the opening. Your face
+looks so funny when you suddenly get mad. Of course I didn't mean a
+thing, and I apologize."
+
+"Well, that's better!" Dave growled. Then, grinning slowly: "You did
+have me going for a second, there. I really thought you were serious,
+you old tease, you! I must be slipping, not to have got wise at once.
+I--Uh-uh! I guess this is it, pal!"
+
+The last was caused by the approaching figure of the pilot of the
+Wellington in which they were to fly. The pilot was Flight Lieutenant
+Wiggins, and though he wore a heavy flying kit, they knew that the
+D.F.C. ribbon for air gallantry was under the R.A.F. wings on his tunic.
+He came up, stopped, grinned, and jerked a thumb in the direction of
+the waiting Wellington bombers.
+
+"Hitler just called," he announced. "Says the weather is perfect over
+Berlin, and will we please get it over with? So I guess we'd better get
+along and please the little fellow, what? You ready?"
+
+"And raring," Dave said with a grin.
+
+"Absolutely fed up with standing on the ground," Freddy added.
+
+The flight lieutenant chuckled and gave them both a keen look.
+
+"I say, drop me a line after it's all over, will you?" he suddenly asked
+as they started walking toward the planes. "You know my name and
+squadron address. It should reach me right enough."
+
+"A line about what?" Dave asked in an innocent voice.
+
+"Come off it, my lad!" Flight Lieutenant Wiggins snorted. "You know what
+I mean. The show you two are scheduled to pull off. We've been pulling
+out our hair wondering what it's all about. That goes for the squadron
+leader, too. He swears he doesn't know a thing."
+
+"But that's rot!" Freddy exclaimed, and buckled his helmet strap tight.
+"Didn't Hitler say he phoned, just now?"
+
+"The blighter didn't say a word, except that the weather was wonderful
+and would we please get on with it?" Wiggins chuckled.
+
+"Well, there you are!" Freddy cried. "He's just a shy sort of chap, you
+know. Probably was afraid that you'd pull his leg about it."
+
+"Oh, quite," the flight lieutenant said with a gesture. "But just what
+would I pull his leg about? Of course, if it's a deep secret, and you've
+sworn to Winston Churchill not to breathe a word, why then--"
+
+"But we thought _everybody_ knew!" Dave said in mock surprise. "Hitler's
+become fed up. And he's mad at Goering, besides. Goering won't lend him
+any of his medals any more. So Hitler's mad. He wants to come over here
+and fight in the British army. Well, you could have knocked me down with
+a feather when King George asked my pal and me to go over there and
+bring him back."
+
+"So there you are!" Freddy said. "All very simple. Nothing to it,
+really."
+
+"Sure!" Dave chuckled. "Get a copy of the London Times tomorrow. There
+may even be pictures."
+
+"Say, I'll jolly well do that!" Flight Lieutenant Wiggins said with mock
+excitement. "And some day I'll tell my grandchildren that I shook hands
+with the two chaps who nurse-maided Adolf Hitler back to England. So I
+guess I'd better do that, now."
+
+They had reached the side of the nearest Wellington. Flight Lieutenant
+Wiggins stopped and in turn shook each boy warmly by the hand.
+
+"Happy landings, lads," he said quietly. "Tally-ho, and all that sort of
+thing, you know. Well, up into her."
+
+A warm and exhilarating glow tingled through Dave and Freddy as they
+climbed up through the belly door of the Wellington bomber and made
+their way forward toward the navigator's cubbyhole just in back of the
+pilot. The kidding with Flight Lieutenant Wiggins had removed a lot of
+ugly thoughts. That was the old R.A.F. spirit. Perhaps not one of these
+Wellingtons would return from their dangerous night raids over Germany,
+but the pilots and the crews didn't talk about that. They didn't even
+think about it. They were R.A.F., and there was a job to do. And that
+was that. No fuss and feathers. No back slapping and brass bands.
+Battling death and beating it at its own game was routine with them, and
+they took it as such, with a smile and a joke on their lips.
+
+When they were seated on the two small canvas stools, Dave reached over,
+pressed Freddy's knee and winked at him in the pale glow of the single
+light bulb fitted to a fuselage bracing strip. Freddy winked back and
+smiled. A moment later the fuselage light winked out, and there was no
+light save the pencil beam of the navigator's bulb, and the fused glow
+of the instrument panel up forward. Flight Lieutenant Wiggins ran up his
+engines, checked the radio, and then trundled his bomb-loaded ship to
+the far end of the field and swung it around into the wind.
+
+There he waited with idling engines for the three other planes in the
+patrol to take up line-astern position. When they were in place and
+ready, radio orders came from the field's Operations Office for the
+take-off. Wiggins pushed throttles forward, and the two Pegasus engines
+roared up in a mighty song of power. The Wellington quivered and
+trembled for a moment as though it were reluctant to leave the safety
+of English soil. Then slowly it moved forward down a long line of flares
+set out on the field. With every revolution of its twin propellers the
+plane picked up speed. Presently it was bouncing down that line of
+flares on its wheels with the tail up. A moment or so more and Flight
+Lieutenant Wiggins pulled back on the controls. The bouncing stopped,
+and the Wellington went curving up toward the star-dotted night sky.
+
+The instant the wheels were clear and the bomber was mounting up toward
+Heaven, Dave twisted slightly so that he could peek out the navigator's
+port and down at the shadowy mass that was England falling away from the
+plane. For one brief instant stark fright streaked through his heart. It
+passed, and a tight grin came to his lips. He turned his head and looked
+past Flight Lieutenant Wiggins and through the reinforced glass nose of
+the plane--and on into the future.
+
+"Pierre Deschaud, here we come!" he whispered softly to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT
+
+_Terror Rides The Night Sky_
+
+
+England was far behind in the darkness. The altimeter on the instrument
+board in front of Flight Lieutenant Wiggins said twenty thousand feet.
+Both Dave and Freddy had long since stuck the oxygen tubes in their
+mouths, as had also Wiggins and the members of his crew. And whenever
+their heads felt a bit light they took a suck of the energy-restoring
+air and instantly felt normal again. Dave had to grin whenever he looked
+at Freddy and the others. In their helmets and oxygen masks, they looked
+like a group of crazy creatures from Mars.
+
+Presently they ran into a bit of weather. The plane heaved slightly, but
+Wiggins kept it dead on its course. After another bit of time they ran
+into high clouds. Dave saw Flight Lieutenant Wiggins speaking into his
+radio mike and knew that the pilot was ordering the other planes of the
+patrol to spread out so as to avoid collision while flying blind. The
+nodding of Wiggins' head indicated that the other pilots were
+acknowledging the order and obeying it.
+
+For some fifteen minutes the plane flew blind through the clouds, then
+came out into clear air again. Wiggins and the navigator checked their
+position. Then Wiggins scribbled something on a piece of paper and
+handed it back to the two boys. They glanced at the short message, which
+read:
+
+     "Tired of looking at your funny faces. Time to make sure your
+     'chute packs are strapped on tight. You will probably need them on
+     the way down!! Cheeri-o!"
+
+Dave and Freddy grinned at each other, then impulsively they clasped
+hands warmly. No words were spoken. No words needed to be spoken. They
+would have been empty and meaningless. The firm pressure of the other's
+hand had told each far, far more than mere words. The first part of
+their venture was quickly drawing to a close. In a short time they would
+dive away from the droning Wellington into the black night that shrouded
+German-occupied Belgium. In a few minutes--
+
+But fate, perhaps, had suddenly decided not to let it be that way. Above
+the drone of the twin Pegasus engines came a sharp staccato yammer that
+made fingers of ice clutch at Dave's heartstrings. An instant later he
+heard the loud voice of the gunner in the tail.
+
+"A couple of the beggers have picked us out!" he cried. "There go the
+blinking Paul Prys!"
+
+At that moment the Wellington flew straight into a world of brilliant
+white light. Nazi searchlights on the ground, or Paul Prys, as the boys
+of the R.A.F. called them, had picked up the Wellington formation in
+their revealing glare. Instinctively Dave and Freddy grabbed hold of
+fuselage girders for support. And not a moment too soon, either. Flight
+Lieutenant Wiggins had shoved the control stick forward and was dropping
+the Wellington down into a roaring power dive. A couple of split seconds
+after he started the dive, he sent the plane careening crazily off to
+the left. The craft roared out of the searchlight beams and plowed away
+through black night.
+
+"Sweet going!" Dave heard his own voice shout in praise. "That's showing
+the guys how good their Paul Prys are. Oh-oh! I had forgotten about
+those birds!"
+
+The last exclamation was caused by the staccato yammer of aerial machine
+gun fire coming to his ears once again. And almost instantly the sound
+of the guns in the tail of the Wellington was added to the chatter. Dave
+and Freddy hugged their seats and felt very helpless and useless. They
+were really passengers aboard the plane, and there was nothing they
+could do but sit tight. Sit tight--and think.
+
+That was the hard part. Thinking! Because their thoughts were far from
+joyous ones. Dave's hunch had started to come true. In another few
+moments they should have been floating down toward Belgium soil. But all
+that was changed, now. Fate had guided night flying German planes to
+their position in the sky, and those Nazi pilots were doing their utmost
+to finish them off right then and there.
+
+"Just as though they knew we were coming, and were hiding in the
+bushes!" Dave muttered to himself as British and German aerial machine
+guns hammered away at each other. "Just as though--Ye Gods! Could that
+be true? Do the Nazis know that Freddy and I are--"
+
+He cut off the startling thought short and gulped. Then suddenly the
+whole night sky seemed to explode right on the tip of the Wellington's
+nose. Colored light and sound raced back to crash against Dave and
+Freddy as though they were things actually made of solid substances.
+Dave braced himself and squinted forward. What he saw brought a sharp
+cry to his lips, and he came up off his stool as though a coiled spring
+had been released under him.
+
+"We're hit, Freddy!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Wiggins and the
+other chap caught some of that anti-aircraft shell."
+
+Twisting past the navigator's cubbyhole, Dave went forward to where
+Flight Lieutenant Wiggins sat slumped over against the controls. His
+weight had forced the Dep control stick forward, and the Wellington was
+now tearing down in a thundering dive. The second pilot had been knocked
+clean off his canvas seat and was stretched out motionless on the
+cockpit flooring. Bracing himself, Dave reached out and pulled the
+unconscious Wiggins back in the seat with one hand. Holding the man
+there, he reached down and grabbed hold of the Dep wheel and gave it all
+of his strength. The nose tried to drag itself down to the vertical, but
+Dave's pull on the stick was too much. Inch by inch the plane's nose
+came up, and after what seemed like years the craft was climbing upward
+at a slightly flat angle.
+
+"Help me get Wiggins out of the seat!" Dave shouted to Freddy at his
+elbow. "I'll take over while you fellows see if they're badly hurt."
+
+"Right you are!" Freddy called out in a clear steady voice. "Here, I'll
+give you a hand with Wiggins and this other chap."
+
+Together the boys lifted and dragged Flight Lieutenant Wiggins and his
+second pilot out of the cockpit and back toward the navigator's
+cubbyhole. The navigator seemed too amazed to lend a hand at first.
+
+"But who'll fly the bus, now?" he gasped when he finally found his
+tongue.
+
+"If she handles something like a Hurricane, don't worry!" Dave shouted,
+and vaulted into the seat vacated by Wiggins.
+
+The searchlights had once again picked up the Wellington, and Dave had
+the crazy impression of flying right straight through the sun as he
+hunched himself over the controls. A world of brilliant, blinding light
+smote his eyes, and it was filled with the thundering roar of exploding
+anti-aircraft shells, and the snarling yammer of death-spitting aerial
+machine guns. Instinct and instinct alone guided Dave's movements as he
+struggled to wheel and dive that Wellington out of the dazzling white
+glare. He couldn't even see the instrument panel in front of him, the
+light was so blinding. However, you don't need eyes to shove the control
+stick this way and that. Nor do you need eyes to jump on left or right
+rudder pedal.
+
+Perhaps the designers of the Wellington bomber would have torn out their
+hair in anguish at the way Dave Dawson booted their brainchild about the
+searchlight-stabbed sky over Belgium. But Dave didn't give a thought to
+that. Perhaps he didn't fly it real pretty like. But a twin-engined
+Wellington loaded with bombs isn't exactly like a swift sleek Hurricane,
+so what the heck? The idea was to cut away from those fingers of light
+that pinned them against the heavens, and that was the only idea. How
+the heck he brought it about didn't matter. That he could do it was
+what counted.
+
+And he did succeed. Without warning the Wellington sliced right into a
+wall of darkness. Dave instinctively reached for the throttles to take
+strain off the howling engines, but he checked his hand, and let the
+plane roar deeper and deeper into that blessed sea of darkness. Then
+presently, when he saw the searchlight beams being frantically swung
+back and forth across the sky far in back of him, he put the ship in a
+steady climb and twisted around in the seat.
+
+That is, he started to twist around in the seat, but such movement
+seemed to make the top of his head fly off. In a flash he realized what
+was wrong. In the excitement his oxygen mask had slipped down off his
+face and he could not reach the tube with his lips. Night air was
+pouring through the shattered section of cockpit glass cowling where
+fragments of shrapnel had struck, and the sensation was akin to a
+million icy needles pricking the skin of his face and hands. He let go
+of the controls, adjusted his oxygen mask and sucked the life giving gas
+into his lungs. In a second or so he was a new man. He set the controls
+for level flight, then twisted around in the seat and looked back.
+
+Freddy and the navigator were bending over Wiggins and the second pilot.
+Even as Dave looked, the flight lieutenant slowly sat up, made a wry
+face, and put a hand to his head. Dave sighed thankfully.
+
+"Well, he's pretty much okay!" he breathed. "So that's one of them to
+handle this bus."
+
+He turned forward for a moment to check the instruments, then scrambled
+out of the seat and went back. Flight Lieutenant Wiggins saw him and
+smiled thinly.
+
+"Much obliged, old chap," he said, and slowly stood up. "Had a hunch you
+two knew something about planes. R.A.F., of course."
+
+The flight lieutenant paused and winked.
+
+"But we won't say a word about what we know," he whispered. "Must keep
+it very hush-hush, what? And, oh yes, I haven't thanked you for saving
+our blinking hides, have I? Well, I thank you sincerely, and all that
+sort of thing."
+
+"Forget it," Dave said, and grinned at him. "I was only thinking of my
+own hide. By the way, how's your pal?"
+
+Dave pointed down at the second pilot, who was also sitting up and
+holding his head in his hands.
+
+"Who, Chubby, there?" Wiggins echoed. "Oh, never worry about Chubby when
+he gets hit on the head. There's nothing inside to hurt, you see. On
+your feet, Chubby. We've got to coast about a bit, and find out just
+where the devil we are, and what happened to the rest of the patrol,
+too. Then we'll let these two gentlemen off at their stop. Come along,
+lad. After we've landed, I'll let you look at the cut on _my_ head."
+
+Wiggins tapped his second pilot playfully on the shoulder, and then went
+forward and took over the controls. The second pilot got to his feet,
+looked at Dave and Freddy and shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of
+despair.
+
+"And to think I could have flown with dozens of other Wellington
+pilots," he groaned. "But I had to go and pick a heartless beggar like
+him. Ah me! Such is life in the R.A.F., lads. All work, and not the
+slightest bit of appreciation from your superiors. Good luck!"
+
+Dave and Freddy laughed as the second pilot slouched wearily forward to
+his canvas seat. Five minutes later Wiggins had made contact with the
+rest of his patrol, and had relocated his position. Another ten minutes
+and Flight Commander Wiggins turned the controls over to his second
+pilot and came aft to Dave and Freddy. He replied to their questioning
+glances with a nod.
+
+"Right-o, chaps," he said. "We're at seventeen thousand and about six
+miles south of Antwerp. Chubby will cut the engines and take her down
+another couple of thousand. A free fall will take you out of the Paul
+Prys in case they hear us and start poking around. And many thanks again
+for saving the ship. Chubby and I will always think kindly of you, very
+much so. Well, good luck again."
+
+"Don't thank us," Dave said, and jerked his head toward the tail. "Thank
+your tail gunner for driving off those night flying planes that were
+potting at you. What about the rest of the patrol? Did you contact them
+by radio?"
+
+"Oh, sure," Wiggins nodded. "One reports getting a Messerschmitt, too.
+They've gone on. We'll catch up with them after you chaps have stepped
+off into space."
+
+"You're continuing the patrol?" Freddy gasped, and looked forward at
+the shattered glass of the cockpit cowling.
+
+Flight Lieutenant Wiggins followed his gaze and chuckled.
+
+"Oh, quite," he said. "That hole's nothing. Besides, the night air will
+keep Chubby awake, you know. The blighter's always falling asleep and
+making me do all the flying. And also, I couldn't use up gas lugging
+these bombs all this distance without dropping them where they'll do the
+most good."
+
+"And I hope every one is a direct hit!" Dave said grimly, making sure
+that his parachute harness was properly buckled.
+
+"Me too!" Freddy chimed in. "And I'll give you one guess who I hope you
+hit right on top of the old bean, too!"
+
+"My, my! What a cold-blooded chap!" Flight Lieutenant Wiggins said in
+pretended horror. "I don't believe he likes the nasty Nazis a single
+bit. Well, neither do I, for that matter. Right-o, Chubby! Dig the sleep
+out of your baby blue eyes, and slide us down three thousand. Our guests
+are leaving us."
+
+The last was shouted forward. Chubby nodded that he had heard and eased
+back the throttles until the Pegasus engines were just a rumbling
+murmur. The nose of the Wellington dipped gracefully and the bomber slid
+gently down through the night sky. Dave and Freddy moved forward to the
+belly door that the navigator had opened up. There they waited until
+Chubby had pulled the bomber up out of its glide and was prop plowing
+along on an even keel. Dave looked at Freddy, and grinned.
+
+"See you, you know where, pal!" he called out. "Watch out you don't
+float down on a church steeple. Those things are doggone sharp, you
+know."
+
+"And you watch out, too!" Freddy cried as Dave got down and let his legs
+hang down through the opening. "And if you get lost, just send me a
+postcard. I'll come get you. Happy landings!"
+
+"Ditto to you, Freddy!" Dave shouted, and let his body drop down through
+the belly door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINE
+
+_In The Enemy's Country_
+
+
+The instant Dave Dawson dropped away from the belly of the Wellington
+black night engulfed him from all sides. He let his whole body go limp
+and relaxed save for the fingers of his right hand, which he kept
+tightly curled about the rip-cord ring. For a brief moment or so, as his
+body turned over and over in that sea of darkness, it seemed as though a
+million invisible hands were grabbing at the Belgian peasant clothes he
+wore and trying to rip them from his body. Wind whistled shrilling in
+his ears, and had he not been wearing goggles he knew that his eyelids
+would be fluttering like loose blinds in a gale of wind.
+
+Then suddenly his falling body reached its maximum rate of falling
+speed, and the sensation became one of floating on a huge soft black
+cloud. He knew he was on his back because he could see the stars
+straight above him. He raced his eyes across the sky to the east and
+thought he saw the faint flicker of the Wellington's exhaust plumes, but
+he couldn't tell for sure. He wondered just where in that star-studded
+sky above him Freddy might be. Had Freddy already jumped? A sudden
+thought came to him, and a stifled gasp of alarm rose up to his lips.
+Supposing something had happened so Freddy couldn't quit the bomber?
+Supposing his parachute harness had caught on something, and propeller
+wash had wrenched him free, and he was now spinning headlong downward
+with a damaged and useless parachute flapping out behind? Supposing--?
+
+He groaned aloud at the torturing thoughts and wished with all his heart
+and soul that he had waited and watched Freddy jump first. Then he would
+know for sure that Freddy had bailed out all right. But as it was now,
+perhaps--
+
+"Watch your own step, sap! Are you going to free-fall forever? Pull the
+rip-cord ring, dope!"
+
+Perhaps he shouted those words aloud, or perhaps they were only spoken
+in his brain. At any rate he cut off thinking about other things and
+gave the rip-cord ring a smart jerk. His body dropped earthward for
+another split second or so. Then suddenly giant hands reached down from
+above and violently jerked him back up toward the stars. His body spun
+around like a top and he was forced to gulp for air. Another few seconds
+and he was dangling feet downward at the ends of the parachute shroud
+lines and swaying gently back and forth like the pendulum of a clock. He
+sucked more air into his lungs, cocked his head and looked downward.
+
+All he could see at first was just one great expanse of utter darkness.
+It was like gazing down into a coal mine at the hour of midnight. There
+was nothing but darkness and more darkness. Then gradually, as his eyes
+became better focussed, he saw not just one great expanse of darkness,
+but more of a collection of shadows. Some shadows were darker than
+others, and all of them were of different shapes and sizes. Suddenly he
+spotted a long snake-shaped shadow. It was almost a dark grey, and he
+knew at once that it was the Campine (or Kempen) Canal that extended
+eastward from Antwerp.
+
+Reaching up, he grasped hold of the shroud lines, twisted around and
+glanced toward the north. He saw a faint cluster of lights that must
+mark Antwerp. And he was pretty sure that he could make out the Scheldt
+River that served as Antwerp's water outlet to the sea. He relaxed his
+grip on the shroud lines, returned his gaze to the shadows directly
+underneath him and silently praised Flight Lieutenant Wiggins' flying
+and navigating ability. In exact accordance with orders, the British air
+ace had dumped them out where they would float down to a point not too
+far from Antwerp, and not too close so that they might be seen.
+
+"Dumped _them_ out?" Dave echoed the thought aloud. "Boy, oh boy, do I
+hope and pray it _is_ them! And not just him, meaning yours truly.
+Freddy, pal, maybe you're right close to me, and perfectly okay, but I
+sure wish I could see you and be sure. And how! We hit on all six when
+we work as a team. Alone, I've got a hunch I'd be just a foul ball. So,
+Freddy--"
+
+He stopped short because his voice suddenly choked up so that he
+couldn't speak. He swallowed and clenched his teeth hard.
+
+"Cut the sob stuff, the sentimental junk, Dave!" he told himself
+savagely. "There's a job to do whether Freddy's right there with you, or
+not. And he'd feel the same way about it, too. So pull up your socks,
+chappy, as Freddy would say, and tend strictly to your knitting."
+
+A couple of moments later there was no more time in which to wonder
+about this and speculate about that. A sudden change in the mess of
+shadows directly beneath him told him that the ground was close, and
+coming up fast. Impulsively he brushed one hand across the lenses of his
+goggles, as though in so doing he might see objects better. Perhaps that
+did help some. At any rate, a split second later he caught a flash
+glimpse of a cluster of pointed shadows, shadows that pointed straight
+up at him! They were the tops of a clump of trees, and he reacted
+instantly to the realization that flashed through his brain.
+
+He shot up both hands and grabbed hold of the shroud lines on the right
+and pulled downward with every ounce of his strength. The action
+"spilled" air from that side of the silk envelope over his head and
+caused the parachute and his dangling body to slip off to the side. The
+tree tops were practically touching the soles of his shoes, and he held
+his breath for fear he had not side-slipped the 'chute in time. A brief
+split second ticked past into time history, or perhaps it was an entire
+year. To Dave it seemed an eternity before the tops of the trees moved
+away from under him. He quickly jackknifed his knees slightly so that he
+could absorb some of the "landing shock" with his legs, and
+automatically threw up one arm across his face just in case there were
+brambles and shrubs down there. And then the ground rose up and smacked
+him.
+
+White pain shot up through his left leg. Something cracked him in the
+small of his back. Something else rammed itself against his right shin.
+And then something entirely different darted out of the darkness and
+rapped him on the jaw. He saw thousands upon thousands of colored stars
+dancing around before his eyes. Then suddenly all was dark and peaceful,
+and very silent....
+
+When he next opened his eyes, he found himself staring straight up at a
+vast expanse of smudgy grey. He had the sensation of looking up at a
+poorly whitewashed ceiling. Only it wasn't a ceiling at all. It was the
+sky, and it was a sort of dirty grey because the last of night still
+lingered and the Goddess of Dawn had not yet wiped the heavens clean
+with her veil dipped in sunlight.
+
+For a few moments he continued to stare upward, vaguely conscious of the
+fact that he was lying stretched out on dew-drenched ground, but not
+caring much about it. Presently a dull pounding in his head awakened
+memory. He sat up straight, groaned from the effort, and cradled his
+head in his hands. That stopped the aching considerably. He took his
+hands away and looked slowly around. It was then he saw what had
+happened. Fifty yards away was the clump of trees he had missed by a
+whisker, but two feet from him was a jagged stone wall he had not
+missed. The silk of his parachute clung to it in shreds, and the shroud
+lines were wrapped about jutting rocks like a spider's web. He unbuckled
+the harness about him and got painfully to his feet. His left trousers
+leg was ripped from the knee down, and there was a nasty scratch where a
+point of rock had left its mark. The right shoulder of his coarse jacket
+was also torn. And to top everything off, he was smeared with mud and
+dirt from head to foot. He looked down at himself and shook his head.
+
+"Gee, if I don't look like a refugee who's been wandering around plenty
+long," he breathed, "then there just ain't no such animal!"
+
+He straightened up and looked around again. It was rolling farm country
+on all four sides, but one look told the pitiful story. War had
+prevented the land from being worked, and acres and acres of ground were
+simply going to seed. It was not that fact, however, that caused a look
+of disgust to come into his face. It was the stone wall, which was no
+more than a hundred yards long and seemed to serve no purpose
+whatsoever. There was not another stone wall to be seen in any
+direction.
+
+"That's Dawson luck for you!" he grunted aloud. "The only stone wall for
+miles around, but me, I'd hit it sure as shooting. Oh well, I could have
+broken my neck, I suppose. And at least I don't have to dig a hole to
+bury the stuff."
+
+As he spoke the last, he started gathering up the tangle of parachute
+harness, shroud lines, and silk. Then, together with the oxygen mask and
+tank, that had somehow been twisted clear off his face and around so
+that it hung down his back, he carefully stuffed everything under the
+bottom of the wall where it undoubtedly would not be discovered for the
+next hundred years or so. And probably by that time it would be turned
+into dust, anyway, and be completely unrecognizable.
+
+When Dave straightened up again, a very urgent and very familiar feeling
+came to him. It struck him square in the stomach. In short, he suddenly
+realized that he was as hungry as a wolf. For a brief second fright came
+to him again. But when he stuck his hand inside his shirt he grinned and
+sighed with relief. Before leaving England, he and Freddy had been
+supplied with a small compact case of specially prepared emergency
+rations that would last them several days in a crisis. To make sure he
+wouldn't lose it, each had strapped the case about his waist under his
+shirt. Dave's was still there.
+
+He pulled it out, selected a bar of energy-building chocolate and ate it
+hungrily. He was tempted to attack a second bar, but will-power refused
+to permit him to do so. He put the case of emergency rations back in
+place, fixed his direction from the rising sun and set out across the
+fields toward a small hill a mile or two away. The lingering shadows of
+night were completely gone when he finally reached the top of the hill
+and paused to get his breath. A moment or so later he climbed part way
+up a tree and stared hard and long at the surrounding countryside.
+
+Some five miles to the north lay the southern outskirts of the city of
+Antwerp, but for the moment he wasn't interested in Antwerp. The land to
+the east, and west, and in the direction whence he had come, interested
+him most. He hoped against hope that from his look-out post he might
+spot a solitary figure making his way across country toward Antwerp, a
+lone figure dressed in the clothes of a Belgian peasant refugee. In
+other words, he prayed that the miracle might come to pass--that he
+might see and recognize Freddy Farmer trudging toward Antwerp.
+
+His prayer was not answered, however, and the miracle did not come to
+pass. He saw miles and miles of Belgian countryside, but not the
+slightest sign of anyone who might be Freddy Farmer. Oddly enough, he
+did not see a single human being; not even a dog, nor a farm animal.
+Save for the darkish blur to the north that was Antwerp, he might have
+been staring across a completely deserted land. Presently he climbed
+down to the ground and stood there fighting grimly with his thoughts.
+
+His thoughts were like so many dancing demons that whirled around inside
+his brain and continually jabbed him with the sharp pointed spears they
+carried. Where was Freddy Farmer? Had he been able to bail out safely?
+Had he landed safely? Was Freddy dead? Had he landed in some trees, by
+any chance, and right now might he be lying helpless and crippled only a
+short distance away?
+
+The thoughts brought tears of helpless rage to Dave's eyes, and it was
+hard to beat them back. He tried desperately to argue with himself. He
+tried to point out to that other side of him that it was hours since he
+and Freddy had stepped off from the Wellington, and that Freddy was
+probably in Antwerp by now and making his cautious way to their meeting
+place at Sixteen Rue Chartres. Certainly that was possible. That stone
+wall had knocked him out for hours, and he was simply late getting
+started. Sure, Freddy had landed safe as could be and was now in Antwerp
+waiting for him. Thoughts and arguments! Thoughts and arguments! They
+helped one minute, and drove him deeper into the depths of worried
+despair the next.
+
+"Well, just standing here won't get you any of the answers!" he finally
+grated at himself. "Get the lead out of your pants and start going
+places. Don't stand here all day and mope, you fathead!"
+
+The words of self-abuse seemed to help a little. At least they made him
+angry at his own momentary weakness. Fists clenched and jaw set, he
+wheeled around and went down the north side of the hill and toward
+Antwerp. At the end of half an hour he had reached the first of the
+outskirt streets, and still hadn't met a living soul. Trudging wearily
+along the street, striving hard to act like a peasant lad who was
+completely lost and homeless, he kept shooting keen glances at the rows
+of houses on either side of the street. A few of the houses bore the
+marks of the Nazi air raids which had taken place before the city fell
+into enemy hands, but most of them were in fairly good condition. Yet as
+Dave peered at the fronts and saw the drawn curtains, and a boarded up
+door here and there, he felt pretty sure that that section of the city
+had been evacuated.
+
+Street after street was the same. It was like looking at the same
+picture over and over again. When he paused, he could hear the faint
+rumble of sound from the direction of the city's center, and every now
+and then a flight of German planes winged by high overhead. But in the
+outskirts of the city all was quiet and still. With each step his wonder
+grew, and with each step the fingers of vague worry clutched at him more
+and more. For some crazy reason he was tempted a dozen times to wheel
+around and retrace his steps in a hurry. But Sixteen Rue Chartres was
+like a magnet that drew him toward it and refused to let him retreat.
+
+Then suddenly, as he swung around another corner, a squad of field grey
+German soldiers seemed to rise right up out of the sidewalk. A
+non-commissioned officer was in charge of them. He was a big man with a
+flat and cruel-looking face. In his right fist he clenched a Luger, and
+the muzzle of that Luger was pointed straight at the pit of Dave's
+stomach.
+
+"Halt!" the German ordered in a savage snarl.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TEN
+
+_Trapped!_
+
+
+A moment of wild panic gripped Dave Dawson. His first impulse was to
+spin around and flee for his life. In the nick of time, however, cold
+logic made him realize the utter senselessness of such a move. He got a
+quick hold on himself, threw both his hands above his head and faked a
+display of mortal terror.
+
+"Don't shoot!" he cried in a high shrill voice. "I have done nothing. I
+am lost, and I am hungry. Please do not shoot, _Herr Kommandant_!"
+
+To be addressed by such a title of high rank seemed obviously to please
+the German, who held only a corporal's rank. He smiled and puffed out
+his chest a bit, and holstered his Luger.
+
+"So, another little vagrant swine, eh?" he leered. "Where do you come
+from, boy? What are you doing in this area of the city where it is
+forbidden for civilians to go?"
+
+Inwardly Dave longed to lash out with both fists at the flat leering
+face, but he had more sense than to ask for a bullet from the German
+corporal's Luger. Instead he played his part to the limit. He blinked
+and worked his mouth, and looked for all the world as though he were
+going to burst out in tears.
+
+"I come from the south, _Herr Kommandant_," he said in a whimpering
+voice. "From Rotselner, near Louvain. Our farm, it was destroyed in the
+bombardment. I was separated from my family during the evacuation to
+Brussels. And when--and when--"
+
+Dave purposely stumbled to a stop and gazed pleadingly at the German
+corporal.
+
+"May I please put my hands down, _Herr Kommandant_?" he whined. "I am
+very tired. And I have hurt my leg, as you can see. Please?"
+
+The German grunted and nodded his head.
+
+"Put them down, then," he growled. "All you Belgians are babies about
+pain, anyway. Well? You went to Brussels? Why did you not stay there
+instead of coming up here to bother me, eh?"
+
+Dave gestured miserably.
+
+"The city was filled with refugees," he said. "They would not let any
+more inside the city limits. They turned us away, and ordered us to go
+elsewhere."
+
+"So?" the German suddenly echoed as a sharp gleam leaped into his beady
+eyes. "And when was this? Last week, perhaps?"
+
+Dave was expecting some sort of a trap, so he was prepared, and did not
+plunge headlong into it.
+
+"No, _Herr Kommandant_," he said, and shook his head. "It was not just
+last week. It was a long time ago, last June. Ever since then I have
+been wandering around trying to find my father, and my mother, and my
+two sisters."
+
+"And probably stealing all the time, eh?" the German snarled at him.
+"Yes, I know your kind. We come and save your country from the English
+dogs, and you thank us by stealing everything you can lay your hands
+on."
+
+"No, no, I have not been stealing, _Herr Kommandant_!" Dave cried
+wildly. "I have been looking for work--any kind of work so I could earn
+money to pay for my bed and a little food. But there has not been much
+work to find."
+
+"You mean you are too lazy!" the German corporal interrupted harshly.
+"You look big enough to work, but I know that you are simply lazy. All
+of your kind are lazy. So you decided to come up here to Antwerp and beg
+off us? You expected us to put food in your dirty mouth?"
+
+"No, _Herr Kommandant_!" Dave protested with a whimper. "Only if I work
+for it. Yes, I am strong. I am willing to work, but there is so little
+work to be found these days. Farther south near Malines, I met a very
+kind German officer. He was in command of a tank division. He told me
+that his comrades in Antwerp would give me work to do. He said they
+would be glad to give me work so that I could pay for my bed and my
+food."
+
+As soon as Dave stopped speaking, he realized that it had been a mistake
+to add the little lie about meeting a German officer. The corners of the
+corporal's mouth went down, and sneering disgust glittered in his eyes.
+He made a movement with his lips as though to spit.
+
+"So you were told that, eh?" he suddenly rasped out. "Well, that officer
+should have tended to his tanks instead of giving foolish advice to
+stupid swine. We have enough trouble here in Antwerp. Too many mouths to
+feed as it is. You fool Belgians are so stupid. You have to be led
+around like cows. Yes, you should have rings put in your noses.
+_Himmel!_ I shall be a happy man when my company is ordered elsewhere."
+
+A sudden thought came to Dave, and he tried a new way of getting on the
+good side of the surly German corporal.
+
+"You have been in many battles, _Herr Kommandant_?" he asked in a polite
+voice. "You have seen much excitement, and fought in many battles?"
+
+It was instantly evident that this was the one wrong thing to ask. One
+of the soldiers tittered faintly, and the corporal's neck and face
+flushed a beet red. Undoubtedly he had yet to hear a shot fired, and had
+been sent to Antwerp for patrol duty long after the city had been taken
+by the real fighting forces of Adolf Hitler. He stood glaring, and Dave
+inwardly braced himself for the blow he expected to come. In a minute,
+however, the German managed to get control of his anger. But the wrong
+question by Dave had completely upset the apple cart. He had hoped that
+by getting on the good side of the corporal he might persuade the man to
+tell him some place to go and ask for work, and would be sent on his
+way. Thus he would be able to slip on through the patrol area and
+eventually lose himself in the city. But--
+
+The apple cart had been tipped over.
+
+"Fritz!" the corporal barked back over his shoulder. "Take him to the
+Central Detention Station and throw him inside. Tell Sergeant Mueller
+that I will be in later to make a report on him. Take him in the sidecar
+and return at once."
+
+"Very good, Corporal," a voice said.
+
+Then a skinny soldier with bulging eyes stepped forward and rammed Dave
+in the chest with the muzzle of his short but deadly field rifle. Dave
+whimpered and shrank back and looked appealingly at the corporal.
+
+"But I have done nothing, _Herr Kommandant_!" he whined.
+
+The corporal snorted and made a curt gesture with his hand.
+
+"You were born!" he snapped. "And that was too much, as I see things.
+Take him away, Fritz!"
+
+The soldier grinned and prodded Dave again with the barrel of his rifle.
+
+"March in front of me!" he shouted. "Down the street. Try to run away
+and I will shoot you for a wild pig. March!"
+
+White anger blazed up in Dave, but he still had sense enough to hold
+himself in check. He kept the frightened look on his dirt-smeared face,
+let his shoulders droop in cringing defeat, and went trudging along the
+sidewalk in front of the soldier. At the end of the block the soldier
+stopped him and made him get into the bucket of a sidecar parked around
+the corner. The soldier slung his rifle over his shoulder by the strap,
+forked the seat saddle and leered sideways at Dave.
+
+"You will be a wise little boy to keep your hands clasped in your lap!"
+he barked. "Don't think that you'll have a chance to jump out and
+escape. You'll be another dead Belgian, if you try that."
+
+"I shall not try to escape," Dave murmured meekly, and kept his eyes on
+his clasped hands.
+
+"Then that will be good!" the soldier grunted, and kicked the engine of
+his army motorcycle into life.
+
+Even if Dave had secretly nursed the idea of attempting an escape, he
+would promptly have abandoned any such idea once the soldier got the
+motorcycle and sidecar rolling down the street. The German acted little
+short of a madman. He streaked along like a bolt of lightning and took
+corners on one wheel. A dozen times, had not Dave grabbed frantically
+for support, he would have been bounced out on his head to meet with
+serious injury. It was an even wilder ride than he and Freddy had taken
+through the blazing bomb-blasted streets of Dunkirk just a few short
+months before.[2]
+
+[Footnote 2: _Dave Dawson at Dunkirk._]
+
+After a two mile ride that brought them straight into the heart of the
+city, the German braked to a screaming stop in front of a long
+flat-roofed building. A glance at it indicated that it had probably been
+used as a storehouse before the outbreak of war. In a way, as Dave
+learned a few minutes later, it was still being used as a storehouse, a
+storehouse for civilian prisoners taken by the Nazi troops occupying
+the city!
+
+The soldier marched him in through the front door and past two
+giant-sized guards. The guards grinned at the soldier and raised their
+eyebrows questioningly. The soldier laughed harshly and nodded.
+
+"Caught him trying to sneak through the forbidden area," the soldier
+said, and jerked his head at Dave. "Where is Sergeant Mueller? My
+corporal says that he will be in later to make a report."
+
+One of the guards pointed at a door on the left.
+
+"In there, and probably sleeping," he said with a mirthless chuckle. "Go
+and see him, and leave your little playmate with us. We will see that he
+has the best of care, eh, Hans?"
+
+The other guard laughed and nodded his head vigorously.
+
+"The very best, of course!" he cried. "We shall let him go and talk with
+some of his friends. Come along, you!"
+
+A big hairy hand shot out and fingers of steel were curled around Dave's
+arm. He was almost jerked off his feet as the guard yanked him forward.
+He kept his balance, however, and was led to the far end of the short
+corridor into which they had entered. There the guard stopped, gave Dave
+a warning look, and took a ring of keys from his pocket. He selected a
+key and opened the door in front of him. Then, faster than moving light,
+he spun around and hit Dave across the back of the neck.
+
+Stars flared up in Dave's brain, and he saw a sea of blurred faces as he
+went stumbling through the open door. He fell down a short flight of
+steps and landed hard on his hands and knees on a rough board floor. For
+a moment he stayed where he was, waiting for his head to clear. Then the
+hushed murmur of many voices and a cloying cloud of countless human
+smells brought his head up and made him get to his feet. He found
+himself in a huge, long room that contained at least a hundred others in
+as pitiful looking state as himself.
+
+"There's another one of your comrades!" he heard the guard shout just
+before he slammed the door.
+
+For a moment or two the hundred pairs of eyes searched Dave's face, and
+his heart ached as he realized why they were doing so. Here was a
+storehouse filled with war's driftwood, helpless refugees whose
+families had been either crushed or broken up by the onward rushing
+machine of war. Each man there was now searching his face and hoping in
+his heart to recognize a long lost brother, or father, or some other
+male relative.
+
+Presently though, they dropped their eyes and went on with whatever they
+had been doing before he had been hurled into their midst. Nobody made
+any effort to speak to him, and he understood why. They were not
+shunning him, or anything like that. They were simply letting him alone
+with his own sorrows, as they wished to be let alone with theirs. What
+could they speak about, anyway? Each man's story was the same. There was
+no real difference. Each had been caught up in the toils of war--and
+here he was.
+
+Dave swallowed the bitterness that rose in his throat and went over and
+sat down on a long row of hard wood benches that ran along one side of
+the wall. An old man sitting there, staring unseeingly at the floor,
+didn't so much as raise his eyes as Dave sat down. Save for the slight
+movement of his chest, caused by his breathing, he could have been a man
+dead. Perhaps in a way he was dead, too. His spirit had been killed by
+the Germans. Only the physical side of his body remained alive.
+
+Dave flashed him a sympathetic glance, started to speak, but thought
+better of it. After all, what was there that even _he_ could say?
+Certainly nothing that could give good cheer and heart to this poor old
+man. Then he thought of the case of emergency food still strapped in
+place about his waist, and his hand moved impulsively toward the inside
+of his shirt. He checked the movement, however. The old man looked half
+starved, but so did everybody else in the place. To take out his
+specially prepared emergency rations would start a riot, at least.
+
+Then, too--and he felt a little ashamed as he thought of it--there was
+the matter of his own welfare. In a roundabout way he was fighting for
+these poor helpless derelicts of war, and for that reason among others
+he was forced to think of himself first. Right now he was in a tough
+spot. He was locked up in a Nazi detention prison. Perhaps fate had
+laughed in Freddy's face, too. Perhaps right now he also was eating his
+heart out in some other prison nearby. Yes, Dave was a Nazi prisoner,
+and he didn't dare even think of what would happen if he were
+exposed--if, for example, he were searched and his secret supply of food
+discovered, or the small compass, and pocket knife, and one or two other
+little things he had brought along just in case.
+
+Each little article could well mean a short and snappy trial, and then a
+firing squad. He wasn't a civilian now, as he had been the last time he
+and Freddy had fallen into German hands. He was a commissioned Pilot
+Officer in the Royal Air Force. And what was even more important, right
+now he was a spy, if ever there had been a spy.
+
+And all of that added up to just one thing. He must get out of this
+place at all costs, and as soon as possible. It was no use now ranting
+at himself for not having thrown the incriminating articles away before
+entering the outskirts of the city. Too late for that, now. The main and
+important thing to concentrate his brain upon was how and when he was
+going to escape from this place.
+
+He lifted his head and stared about. There were plenty of windows, but
+they were a good twelve feet from the floor. There were three doors at
+the rear of the place, but he couldn't see them very well because of the
+other refugees in the way. He was certain, however, that they must be
+securely locked or barred. The thought added to his misery, and he
+groaned aloud.
+
+"It is of no use to complain, my son, even to oneself," a kindly yet sad
+voice said at his elbow. "It only adds to one's misery."
+
+Dave turned to see watery blue eyes fixed upon him. The old man who had
+not moved a muscle as he sat down was now turned around and looking at
+him out of watery blue eyes that held a wealth of sympathy and a world
+of sorrow in their depths. Dave smiled and shrugged.
+
+"I will try to get used to it," he said. Then, with a little wave of his
+hand, he asked, "They have been here long? And why are they here?"
+
+The old man sighed heavily and shook his head.
+
+"Some a day," he said. "Some a week or two. And some, like myself, for
+many months. Why are we here, you ask? For a thousand different reasons.
+Yet all the same. We are of no use to the Germans who have captured our
+beautiful city and driven us from our homes. We are only in their way.
+My son, look at me."
+
+"I am looking at you, sir," Dave said and felt uncomfortable.
+
+"And what do you see?" the other asked with bitterness in his voice.
+"An old man. An old, tired, and broken man. Yet, would you believe it,
+just a year ago I owned one of the finest perfume businesses in Antwerp.
+Yes, in all Belgium. I was a very rich man. And now, I am a broken old
+man."
+
+"But there must be some way of getting out of this place," Dave said,
+and fought to keep the eagerness out of his voice. "There are only a few
+guards. And--and you could hide out some place in the city."
+
+The old man smiled as though Dave were a little child asking questions
+about Santa Claus. He reached out a withered hand and patted Dave on the
+knee.
+
+"We stay here because there is no other place to go," he said in a
+patient voice. "They at least give us a little food. No, it is not hard
+to get out of here. Those doors at the rear are not very strong. They
+could be knocked down without much trouble. But what then? All Antwerp
+is watched by the Nazis. Could we go to a friend's house? No. He would
+not dare let us in. Could we find food? No. The Germans have control
+over everything. They claim they are protecting us, but they are really
+breaking our spirits, and our bodies. It is all a part of their system.
+Escape? Of course. But it would be only a matter of hours before one
+would be caught--caught and shot down in the street like a mad dog. No,
+my son, I stay here and try to make the best of it. They may kill me,
+yes, but I shall not give them the satisfaction of my having them forced
+to do it."
+
+A lump rose in Dave's throat, and near tears were hot against the backs
+of his eyeballs. He wanted to put his arm about the old man and do what
+he could to comfort him. But he feared to attract attention. The old
+man, and the other poor devils, were resigned to their fate. But not he.
+He knew now that Lady Luck was still hovering close. Escape was
+possible. Escape was easy, so it seemed. Escape would be his next bit of
+action. And, please God, the chance to act would come soon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN
+
+_Flight From Nazi Guns_
+
+
+How many hours had passed since he had been pitched headlong into this
+storehouse of unspeakable human misery? Dave asked himself that question
+for the umpteenth time as he stared at daylight fading beyond the row of
+windows so far out of reach. In his saner moments he realized the hours
+couldn't total more than ten or twelve, but the high tension ordeal of
+living those hours seemed now to make them total a hundred at least.
+
+Twelve hours of waiting, with every nerve and every muscle of his body
+on fire. Each time the door had opened, and the face of one of those big
+guards had appeared, his heart had turned to a chunk of ice in his
+chest for fear that he was to be summoned for further examination. Right
+after his short talk with the old man, he had wandered about the place,
+and when no eye was turned his way he had one by one rid himself of the
+emergency articles he had brought along. He had tossed them in a dark
+corner, or stuffed them under a bench--any place, just so that he got
+rid of them.
+
+However, he had not parted with his little case of emergency rations.
+That he had kept strapped in place inside his shirt. The knowledge that
+it was there was a curse as well as a balm. If he was searched, the
+discovery of those emergency rations might be as bad for him as the
+Germans finding a couple of rifles and a machine gun stuffed down inside
+his pants. As a matter of fact, a hundred times he had come within an
+ace of definitely doing something about that ration case. Each time,
+though, something had stayed his fingers; something had prevented him
+from throwing his food supply away.
+
+At any rate, he had hung onto it, and so each time a guard had opened
+the door his heart had stood still and the sweat of fear had oozed out
+on his forehead. By good luck, or otherwise, the visits of the guard
+had meant nothing of importance. Once it had been to toss rank-smelling
+loaves of bread at the starving throng, and to fill the huge water
+buckets at one end of the room. The other visits had obviously been only
+to see that the prisoners were still there, and were not rioting among
+themselves.
+
+During those long torturing hours Dave had spoken with a few of the
+other imprisoned refugees. Their spirits had been no higher than that of
+the old man. They were there for begging, for wandering about the
+streets after dark, for not getting out of the way of some strutting
+German officer in time, and for a hundred other utterly ridiculous
+reasons. They were there because they were of no use and were in the way
+of Nazi domination and oppression. What would happen to them they did
+not know. And most of them did not care. Life for them was ended--and
+they were spirit-whipped enough to let it go at that.
+
+As Dave stopped staring at the fading twilight through the windows, and
+lowered his gaze to the silent mass of broken men about him, he grimly
+pledged anew to give his very all, if necessary, to rid the world once
+and forever of such a system of living as Adolf Hitler and his
+crackedbrained cohorts were striving to force upon all mankind. As long
+as there was an ounce of strength in his body, or a drop of blood in his
+veins, he would fight on to undo all the evil wrought and make the world
+a better place for the millions yet unborn.
+
+Presently he got slowly to his feet and started shuffling along the wall
+as though he were going for a drink of water from one of the buckets. A
+drink of water, however, was one thought not even in his mind. The water
+buckets were near the three rear doors, and during the long hours of
+waiting he had covertly examined those doors many times. The old man had
+been indeed right. They were not at all strong. The locks were so rusted
+and worn with age, and the hinges, too, that they would fall apart in
+pieces from a single sharp blow.
+
+But what lay beyond those doors? Bit by bit he had found that out, too,
+by an innocent question here, and an innocent question there, spoken so
+as not to arouse the slightest bit of curiosity. If his attempt to
+escape was to be successful it depended upon no one even suspecting that
+he was going to try. He had to surprise the refugees as well as the
+guards. And so he had been very careful about the questions he asked.
+He had learned that in back were low-roofed lumber sheds, though the
+lumber had long since been carted away to Germany. Some one hundred
+yards beyond the sheds was swamp ground that led down to the edge of the
+Scheldt River. To the right and to the left of the sheds were the poorer
+sections of the city, deserted now, blasted by bombs in the beginning,
+and seldom patrolled by the Germans. That knowledge had boosted his
+hopes high. It was almost as though Lady Luck, herself, had planned it
+to be that way.
+
+Halfway to those rear doors, Dave caught sight of the old man with the
+watery blue eyes. The poor old fellow was trying to stretch out on one
+of the benches rather than suffer the cold of the floor as most of the
+others were doing, for there were no cots or anything like that. Seeing
+that old man was like a knife stabbing Dave's heart. He knew that he was
+foolish to do so, but he did it just the same. He slipped a hand, inside
+his shirt, took one of the specially prepared chocolate bars from his
+ration case, and palmed it in his hand.
+
+Then he moved over close to the old man. Watery blue eyes stared up at
+him, and thin lips made an effort to smile.
+
+"It is not a comfortable bed, my son," the old fellow said in an
+apologetic voice, "but you will find it less cold than trying to sleep
+on the floor."
+
+Dave smiled and leaned over so that his body hid his hand from the
+others. Quickly he slipped the bar of chocolate into a pocket of the old
+man's tattered coat. He frowned sharply as questions lighted up the
+watery blue eyes.
+
+"Don't move!" he said in a low whisper. "When you can see me no more,
+put your hand in your pocket. But do not let the others see you do it.
+Good luck, my old one."
+
+Before the old man could speak, Dave had straightened up and moved away.
+In another few seconds he was some ten feet in front of the center one
+of the three doors. Fading twilight seeped through the cracks--the
+fading twilight of freedom outside. Dave steeled himself and sucked air
+into his lungs. For a sharp instant panic overcame him, and his whole
+body trembled. He beat down his terror, took a quick look around, and
+then lunged straight for the door. He crashed against it half bent over,
+shoulders bunched, like an All-American halfback blocking out a
+particularly dangerous tackler.
+
+The aged door groaned and creaked in protest, and for one horrible
+moment Dave feared that it would not give way. He had charged it with
+battering ram force, however. The hinges snapped off, the door sagged,
+and then it split straight down the middle and went crashing down onto
+the ground outside. Dave tripped over something and fell sprawling, but
+he bounced up like a rubber ball and pinned wings to his feet.
+
+Behind him a bedlam of sound broke out. The startled cries of the
+refugees seemed to pour out through the broken door like flood waters
+pouring through a broken dam. Dave thought he heard a wild hoarse
+challenge to halt hurled after him. A split second later the sharp bark
+of a rifle shot cut above the babble of voices, and something whined
+past just a little bit above his head. Still crouched over, he darted
+quickly to the side and sped around the corner of the nearest lumber
+shed. Halfway down its length, he saw a spot where some of the boards
+had fallen away, leaving an opening. He swerved and ducked through
+inside. Slowing his pace a trifle, he cut directly across the floor of
+the shed and wriggled out through an opening on the other side.
+
+He pulled up to a halt, hugged the shadow cast by the shed and strained
+his ears. He heard angry voices on the other side of the shed, and the
+unmistakable sound of pounding feet. He grinned and silently
+congratulated himself. It had certainly been a bright idea to duck
+inside the shed. The Germans chasing after him had missed the opening
+completely and were racing down toward the swamp.
+
+He didn't linger long, though, to congratulate himself on his
+cleverness. As soon as he got his second wind, he started cutting across
+lots, hugging the shadows until the lumber sheds were far behind him and
+he was scurrying along the dark and smelly streets of the deserted poor
+section of the city. He sneaked along for two or three blocks, then
+ducked into the pitch dark entrance of a building and paused to rest.
+
+His breath was like fire in his lungs, and every square inch of his body
+was drenched with sweat. But he grinned happily and his heart sang a
+song of joy.
+
+"Score one for the good old R.A.F. over Hitler's lads!" he chuckled to
+himself. "Right through the old line, and how. Boy, what a sensation I'd
+be in a Rose Bowl game!"
+
+He chuckled a bit more and then snorted at himself.
+
+"Sure, you're a wonderful guy," he grunted derisively. "But you can
+thank your lucky stars that door was weak. And--"
+
+He cut the rest off short and pulled back deeper into the dark doorway.
+From up the street came the familiar sound of hobnailed boots on the
+cobblestones. A second later a harsh order in German hit the early night
+air.
+
+"Take both sides of the street! Search every house. If you see him,
+shoot! Shoot on sight! Hurry up!"
+
+Dave gulped and caught his breath. He didn't have to have anybody write
+him a letter to explain that the Nazi patrols were making a house to
+house search. Not a bit of it. Perhaps this section wasn't patrolled
+regularly, but it was most certainly being patrolled now. A grim little
+game of hide and seek, and one Dave Dawson was _it_!
+
+He inched forward cautiously and peered around the corner of the
+building entrance. Some sixty yards up the street were the dim shapes
+of a dozen or so Nazi soldiers. Each man carried one of those deadly
+short-barreled rifles which had proved so effective in skirmishing
+operations. In the center of the street stood an officer. He had drawn
+his Luger and was waving it around as he barked orders at his men.
+
+One look was enough for Dave. He saw all he wanted to see. He ducked
+back and slipped inside the house. It was dark as pitch inside, and he
+was forced to move slowly, feeling the way with his hands and feet. He
+reached the rear of the building and let himself into a small court. The
+court connected with the court of a building on the other street. He
+eased into that building, made his way to the front and peered out. Fate
+laughed in his face. There were Nazi soldiers in that street, too.
+
+He ducked back inside and grimly considered the situation. He hadn't
+outsmarted the Germans as much as he had believed. When they hadn't
+found him among the lumber sheds, they had instantly guessed he had
+headed for this deserted section of town. In no time extra patrols had
+been ordered out, and now they were combing the section, methodically
+searching every house on every street. Even though he ducked from house
+to house, sooner or later he was going to bump smack into one of those
+patrols.
+
+"This is what is known as a spot, brother!" he whispered to himself.
+"Get the old brain working, and get it working fast! There must be some
+way to fool them. I bet Freddy would think up an idea, just like that."
+
+Freddy! The thought of his pal sent cold shivers of worry slithering
+down his spine. It seemed ages since he had last heard Freddy's cheerful
+voice. What he wouldn't give to have Freddy Farmer at his side right
+now! Would he ever see Freddy again? Where _was_ his pal and fighting
+comrade? What had happened to Freddy Farmer?
+
+He angrily drove the tormenting thoughts from his brain. If he didn't
+start doing something about himself real soon, he never would see Freddy
+again--at least, not in this world. At that moment voices not more than
+three houses away galvanized him into fast action. He spun around and
+groped back to the rear of the building again and let himself out into
+the court. There he crouched under some bushes and peered up and down
+the two rows of buildings. Every now and then a light would flash in
+some window, and disappear almost immediately. He watched those flashes
+of light and listened to the echo of voices moving along the rows of
+houses.
+
+Suddenly he grinned broadly and hugged himself in delight. There was a
+perfect way out, and he was a dope not to have realized it sooner. He
+was sure Freddy would have thought of it right at the start. Sure! The
+way out was via the courtyards in back of the houses. The German patrols
+were so busy searching the rooms of the houses, they seemed to have
+completely forgotten about the courtyards in back. By sneaking along the
+courtyards, Dave could easily work his way to the rear of houses that
+the Germans had already searched.
+
+"So get going, before they think of the idea, too!" he ranted at
+himself.
+
+A little over half an hour later he was crouched in the dark doorway of
+a house and peering stealthily up the street at the figures of a German
+patrol moving _away from him_. He watched them until they were lost in
+the growing darkness. Then he slipped out onto the sidewalk, turned his
+back on the patrols and headed rapidly in the opposite direction. An
+hour later he was clear over on the other side of the city and hiding
+in a group of parked military cars. Tarpaulins had been pegged down over
+the cars, and he could tell that they had been there for weeks. There
+wasn't even a lone guard watching over them.
+
+At any rate, it seemed a safe place to hide while he mapped out plans
+for further action. He was thankful to have slipped safely through the
+fingers of those patrols hunting him out, but at the same time he
+regretted that he had been forced to do so. Unless his memory picture of
+that part of Antwerp was all cockeyed, that detention prison hadn't been
+more than four or five blocks from Rue Chartres. Had those patrols let
+him alone, chances were that he would now be close to Number Sixteen Rue
+Chartres. As things stood, though, he was way over on the other side of
+the city.
+
+"It's a cinch those patrols haven't given up yet," he pondered the
+problem to himself. "And ten to one even more patrols have been put on
+the job. Having a poor refugee give them the slip has probably burned
+them up plenty. And they're just mad enough to take this whole town
+apart for the satisfaction of finding me."
+
+He nodded in silent emphasis, and then tackled the problem again. He had
+the choice of two things, and both were bad. He could start stealing
+back toward Rue Chartres right now and trust to luck that he would spot
+Germans wandering about before they spotted him. Or he could wait until
+daylight, when there would be other civilians on the streets, and take
+his chances then. Neither idea sounded so hot, but he had to do
+something.
+
+Suddenly an idea hit him right between the eyes. He grinned, nodded, and
+silently snapped his fingers.
+
+"Maybe!" he whispered excitedly. "There's just a chance!"
+
+The excitement caused by the sudden thought was so great that for a
+moment he stood there trembling like a leaf. Then he got a firm grip on
+his jangling nerves and started thoroughly searching the parked cars. He
+had searched seven cars before Lady Luck cast her smile upon him. In the
+eighth car he found what he wanted. It was a staff car and in back was
+an officer's duffel bag. The bag was covered with dirt and smelled to
+high heaven, it had been left there so long. Inside the duffel bag Dave
+found his prize: a spare uniform of the owner, who was perhaps dead or
+maybe hundreds of miles away. And Lady Luck smiled on him twice, because
+he discovered with mounting joy that the uniform wasn't a bad fit at
+all. The service cap was a perfect fit.
+
+Some ten or fifteen minutes later the poor little Belgian peasant
+refugee had disappeared from the face of the earth. In his place stood a
+young sub-lieutenant of German infantry. True, his uniform was badly
+creased, but the crease and the smell of age, Dave hoped, would come out
+in time. He fumbled through the rest of the duffel bag in the hope of
+finding the officer's Luger. However, Lady Luck wasn't letting him have
+everything his own way. There was no Luger, nor anything else that would
+be of any use.
+
+He grinned and carefully folded his tattered peasant clothes and put
+them in the duffel bag. Then he fastened the bag tight and put it back
+exactly where he had found it. Finally he slipped out from under the
+pegged down tarpaulin.
+
+"Will you get the shock of your life if you ever come back for your
+spare uniform!" he whispered to some unknown German. "And how, my Jerry
+lad, _and how_!"
+
+A moment or so later he started to move away from his hiding place, but
+on second thought he checked himself. The uniform he wore would of
+course serve as a certain amount of protection, but he would be foolish
+to stretch his luck. After all, Antwerp was well patrolled at night.
+There was a curfew law for the civilians, and there was a good chance
+there was a curfew law for German soldiers and officers, too--for all
+troops save those assigned to night patrol duty.
+
+"Hold it, pal!" he told himself. "Daylight is your best bet. Then nobody
+will give you a second look. The streets will be full of troops and
+officers, then. Right! What's a few more hours of waiting? They might
+mean the difference between success and a Luger bullet. No, fellow, hold
+your horses. Play it absolutely safe from here in."
+
+It was hard to slip back in among the parked cars and sit down on a
+running board, but he forced himself to do it. He'd been receiving too
+many lucky breaks lately, and he was afraid it would all come to an
+abrupt end if he didn't watch his step. And so, while every part of him
+screamed to get into action, he resolutely and doggedly stayed put and
+waited for dawn.
+
+Just a few hours to wait, but Dave lived his whole life over a hundred
+times. He thought of everything he had ever done, and recalled hundreds
+of minor incidents in his life that he was sure he had completely
+forgotten. He thought of Freddy, and of the R.A.F., and of his friends
+and relatives back in the States. He thought of everything possible, and
+played a million games with himself to kill time. But when eventually
+the light of dawn came oozing up out of the east and the shadows fled
+westward, and the rooftops of Antwerp began to take definite shape and
+meaning, his nerves were dangerously close to the breaking point. And it
+was all he could do to stop himself from leaping to his feet and
+screaming at the top of his voice, just to do something to let off pent
+up emotional steam locked within him.
+
+Finally he couldn't stand it any longer. It was still early dawn, but
+the light was growing brighter all the time. And when he paused and
+listened intently, he could hear the sounds of the Nazi-occupied city
+coming to life. He got up off the running board and smoothed out his
+uniform as best he could. Then he walked nonchalantly out of the parking
+area and along a street that would lead him in the direction of the
+river front.
+
+"Here I come again, Pierre Deschaud!" he whispered softly. "And this
+time I hope it counts!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELVE
+
+_Quick Thinking_
+
+
+The city was wide awake and getting up steam for a new day of war when
+Dave finally turned off the main waterfront drive into a winding,
+shadow-filled lane that was marked Rue Chartres. He paused at the corner
+and stared hard into the shadows, searching for Number Sixteen. His
+heart was pounding with excitement, and the blood was throbbing through
+his veins. Rue Chartres! The end of one trail, and the beginning of
+another--the air trail that led back to England!
+
+The trip across the occupied city had been absolutely uneventful. He had
+met groups of Nazi soldiers and had not been stopped once. As a matter
+of fact, every soldier he met had saluted smartly as Dave walked by.
+Haughty-eyed, he had returned every salute but inwardly, he was nearly
+bursting with laughter. It had given him quite a kick at first to
+receive the salute of Hitler's troops, but after a while it had become
+tiresome. From that point on he had played the stiff-necked German
+officer to the limit. He had simply given passing soldiers a curt nod as
+a reply to their salutes.
+
+That was all ancient history now. Here he was at last at Rue Chartres,
+and somewhere up that shadowy lane was Number Sixteen and Pierre
+Deschaud. He took a step forward and then hesitated again as the words
+of Freddy Farmer flashed by in memory. _Was Pierre Deschaud still
+alive?_ It was for that reason that he stopped short and hesitated. Up
+that street lay the success or the failure of his dangerous mission, and
+for a moment he was almost too afraid to move forward and find out which
+it was.
+
+Thought of the possibility that failure might be the answer seemed to
+hold him in an iron grip and refused to let him move his feet. Then
+suddenly a voice cried out harshly off to his right and along the main
+waterfront thoroughfare. He turned to see a German soldier leap out of a
+doorway and pounce upon a Belgian slinking past. The Belgian tried to
+break away, but the soldier tripped him up and then hit him with the
+barrel of his rifle as the figure fell to the ground.
+
+In that split second the whole world seemed to explode inside Dave's
+head. A red film dropped down over his eyes, and his whole body trembled
+with berserk rage. The sprawled figure whom the German now covered with
+his rifle was none other than Freddy Farmer!
+
+Dave's first impulse was to race forward and hurl himself at the
+soldier, but he managed to check the crazy urge in the nick of time.
+Though his heart was trying to crash right out through his ribs, he
+slowly turned and sauntered calmly up the street. As he walked along, he
+shot quick glances in all directions, and heaved a sigh of relief when
+he saw that there was nobody else about. He quickened his pace slightly
+and came to a stop a couple of feet from the soldier who was standing
+straddle-legged with his back to him.
+
+"What's all this?" Dave demanded in harsh German.
+
+The soldier jumped as though he had been stuck with a pin, and wheeled
+around. When he saw Dave's uniform he clicked his heels and saluted with
+his rifle, then quickly brought the gun to bear again on the prostrate
+Freddy Farmer.
+
+"I have captured a missing prisoner, _Herr Leutnant_," the soldier said.
+"He escaped from the Central Detention Prison. All night long patrols
+have been searching the city."
+
+Dave grunted and stared down at Freddy. The English youth opened his
+eyes. They stared blankly back at Dave for a moment, then swift
+recognition streaked through them. Dave frowned as Freddy unconsciously
+started to open his mouth. Quickly Freddy closed it and let a look of
+terror and fright spread across his dirty and sleepy-eyed face. Dave
+grunted again, and looked at the soldier.
+
+"The Central Detention Prison, eh?" he growled. "Why did he escape? Who
+let him escape? There are guards there."
+
+"That is true, _Herr Leutnant_," the soldier gulped. "But I had nothing
+to do with it. I am stationed at the western barracks. I was called out
+to help in the hunt. I do not know the details, _Herr Leutnant_, only
+that he escaped."
+
+"So?" Dave snapped and fixed the soldier with a scornful eye. "So the
+first Belgian you meet, you decide he is the one, eh?"
+
+The soldier swallowed hastily a couple of times, and a look of worry
+crept into his eyes.
+
+"We were given a complete description, _Herr Leutnant_!" he said. "This
+boy wears the same clothes. I was sure that he was the one, the way he
+was slinking along. And I clubbed him to the sidewalk, _Herr Leutnant_,
+because he tried to run away from me."
+
+"Yes, that is true," Dave said gravely, and nodded his head. "I saw him
+try to run away. But these Belgian fools frighten easily, like rabbits.
+You, there! Get up on your feet! What is your name?"
+
+As Dave barked the last, he glared down at Freddy. The English youth got
+tremblingly to his feet, clutching his cap between his fingers.
+
+"My name is Henri Duval," Freddy said in hesitant French.
+
+"So?" Dave growled. "And why did you try to escape? Did you want to be
+shot? Why did you try to escape, eh?"
+
+Dave put a lot of emphasis into his words and looked hard at Freddy. The
+other R.A.F. pilot stared back blankly for a moment, then played up to
+Dave's lead.
+
+"I did not escape from any place, _Herr Leutnant_," he said.
+
+"You live here in Antwerp, of course?" Dave demanded, and made just the
+slightest sign of a nod with his head.
+
+Freddy caught onto the tip instantly.
+
+"But of course!" he cried. "I live on the other side of the city, on the
+Rue Troyes. I was on my way home when the soldier stopped me. I came
+down here early to see if I could buy a little fish. We have not much
+food at our house."
+
+While Freddy talked, Dave had been watching the German soldier out of
+the corner of his eye. The man had scowled at first, but little by
+little a puzzled look had come into his eyes. By the time Freddy had
+finished, the soldier was wearing a worried look, and was obviously
+afraid he had made a mistake. Dave turned and gave him a hard stare.
+
+"It looks like your prisoner who escaped has yet to be found," Dave said
+sternly.
+
+"But perhaps he lies!" the soldier protested weakly. "Perhaps he does
+not live on Rue Troyes at all."
+
+Dave could have hugged the German for saying those words. They played
+right into his hand.
+
+"That is quite possible," he said. "Naturally I shall find out if he is
+lying. I will take him in my own car and go to his house. Give me your
+name, and the name of your company commander. If this boy tells the
+truth, we will forget about this little incident. If he has lied, and is
+the escaped prisoner, I will see that he is returned to the prison. And
+I shall also see that your _Kommandant_ hears of the part you played in
+recapturing him."
+
+The soldier hesitated a brief instant, but the fear that he might be
+wrong was too much for him. He didn't dare insist that he accompany this
+officer.
+
+"Very well, _Herr Leutnant_," he said, and gave Dave his name, and the
+name of his commanding officer.
+
+Dave nodded gravely, then repeated the names aloud to indicate that he
+was making sure he would not forget them. Then he took hold of Freddy's
+arm.
+
+"Come along with me!" he said sharply. "My car is in the other block. We
+shall soon find out if you lied to us or not!"
+
+"On my word of honor, I did not lie, _Herr Leutnant_!" Freddy whimpered,
+and let Dave pull him along.
+
+As they walked along toward the next corner, it was all Dave could do to
+stop from looking back to see if the soldier was following. He checked
+the impulse to do so and walked stiff and straight, keeping a tight grip
+on Freddy's arm.
+
+"You're breaking the blinking thing in two!" he heard Freddy whisper
+under his breath. "But God bless you, Dave Dawson! That was a jolly
+close shave."
+
+"Think nothing of it, my little man," Dave shot out of the corner of his
+mouth. "Any time you get in a jam, just give me a buzz. I'll always be
+glad to help out a pal. Now, around this corner. Then hold it while I
+take a look to see if the boy friend is tagging along."
+
+They wheeled around the corner and stopped dead. Dave flattened himself
+against the building wall and gingerly stuck one eye around the corner
+and looked back. The soldier had stopped looking after them, and was
+turning around to head off in the other direction. Dave let out the air
+in his lungs and turned to grin at Freddy.
+
+"The boy friend is gone," he said. "Now, we've got to do something about
+you, pal. We've got to find some place where we can hide out for a
+spell."
+
+"What do you mean, do something about me?" Freddy asked with a frown.
+"I--"
+
+"Use your bean!" Dave reprimanded him, and plucked at Freddy's peasant
+clothes. "In that get-up you'd advertise yourself as much as though you
+had a brass band following you around. A peasant did escape, see? It was
+_me_. But we can't stand here and talk. We've got to duck in some place
+and get you fixed up some how. Darn! I wish I knew this section."
+
+"Oh, you just want a place to hide, eh?" Freddy said in a voice of
+superior scorn. "Why didn't you say so? Come along. Follow me. And mind
+those big feet of yours!"
+
+Dave opened his mouth to ask questions, but Freddy had started moving
+along the narrow street. He traveled half a block, then darted down
+into an alley still untouched by the light of dawn. It was so dark that
+Dave plowed straight into Freddy's back before he realized that his
+friend had stopped.
+
+"Clumsy ox, I must say you are!" Freddy grunted, and then softened it
+with a chuckle. "Here, give me your hand. The going's a bit tricky from
+here on."
+
+"Hey!" Dave whispered. "Where in--"
+
+"Shut up!" Freddy whispered. "Everything's all right. I know what I'm
+doing."
+
+Dave checked all other questions and grasped Freddy's hand in the dark.
+After some ten minutes of climbing over things, and climbing down the
+other side, and turning this way and that, Dave suddenly found himself
+in the bare room of a house. Freddy let go of his hand, closed the door
+through which they had entered, and made a little apologetic gesture
+with his hands.
+
+"Sorry, sir, there's no furniture," he said. "But I only took the place
+night before last, you see. And I haven't had time to send a van for my
+furniture. Now, if you'll just try the floor, sir."
+
+"Cut the comedy!" Dave said gruffly, and squatted down on the dusty
+floor. "How come, anyway? What happened to you? And what have you been
+doing? And how the dickens did you find this place?"
+
+Freddy raised his hand for silence.
+
+"If you'll just close that big mouth of yours, I'll explain," he said.
+"And though I don't think anybody can hear us here, as the whole place
+is deserted, let's not shout, anyway."
+
+"You've got something there," Dave said in a much lower tone of voice.
+"My error. But, gee, it's good to see you again, Freddy! Boy, oh boy,
+I'll say it is!"
+
+"Rather pleasant meeting you, too," Freddy said, but his ear to ear grin
+spoke far more than his tongue. "I can jolly well tell you I've been in
+a fine funk worrying about what could have happened to you. In prison,
+you say? Not that that isn't a good place for you sometimes. But what in
+the world happened to you?"
+
+Dave started to ask for Freddy's story first, but he checked himself. He
+told of his experiences since the moment he had stepped out of the
+Wellington right up to the present time. He skipped some of the details,
+but gave a fairly complete account of his movements.
+
+"And now, what about you?" he finished up. "You weren't stopped at all
+coming through that forbidden area they've got around the city? That
+sure was something I hadn't even guessed or dreamed about. A neat way to
+keep a check on people going in and out of the city by land, anyway."
+
+"Typical of German thoroughness," Freddy said dryly. "It didn't even
+occur to me, either. Fortunately, though, I was luckier than you. I
+spotted one of the patrols before they spotted me. Besides, it was dark.
+I came down in a field about two miles from the outskirts of the city. I
+hid my stuff and started out at once. I slipped through the forbidden
+area under the cover of darkness. As I said, I spotted the roaming
+patrol first, and hid under some house steps until they had gone by. It
+was even more ticklish business getting over here to the waterfront. I
+fancy I must have ducked in to hide while patrols passed by a couple of
+hundred times at least. It was just after dawn when I reached the
+entrance to Rue Chartres."
+
+"And?" Dave questioned eagerly as Freddy paused for breath. "Then what?"
+
+"Then I did some heavy thinking, as you would say," Freddy said calmly.
+"Not knowing whether or not Number Sixteen was a trap, I decided to take
+a good look around. Then, too, I wanted to wait and team up with you
+before tackling the place. Well, I nosed around as much as I could. I
+walked past Number Sixteen several times, but you can't see anything
+through the windows or doors. I don't think they've been cleaned in
+years."
+
+"But is anybody living there?" Dave asked. "Could you tell? Could you
+see anybody? Deschaud?"
+
+"Yes, there's somebody there," Freddy nodded. "An old man who _looks_
+like Pierre Deschaud, and an old woman. I suppose she's his wife. I've
+seen them several times. Well, all day yesterday I nosed around as much
+as I dared. Several times, when you still failed to show up, I was
+almost tempted to go into Number Sixteen. I thought that perhaps you
+were already there, and that I had missed you somehow. But I didn't go
+in. There were quite a few troops about yesterday. They came across the
+river in boats and were streaming through this section of the city all
+day long. They were Bavarian troops, and there were thousands and
+thousands of them. I tell you, Dave, something important must be afoot
+for all those troops to be around. And they all had full war kit, too."
+
+"Boy, my hat's off to you!" Dave grinned. "I get grabbed by the first
+Germans I meet, but you wander around among thousands of them! You're
+good, pal, you're good."
+
+"Rot!" Freddy scoffed, but his face lighted up with pleasure. "I was
+just lucky enough to slip through the forbidden section at the start.
+Once you're inside the city, it isn't so hard."
+
+"It's plenty hard, now, for guys in peasant clothes!" Dave said grimly.
+"But go on. Then what?"
+
+"Well, I hung around close to Number Sixteen as much as I dared, but it
+was just no go trying to slip inside," Freddy said. "Then when they
+turned the light out last night, and probably went to bed, I gave it up.
+I came back here and decided that I'd go in there first thing this
+morning and take my chances. I was on my way there when that blasted
+beggar jumped on my neck. Man, was I glad when I opened my eyes to see
+your homely mug glaring down at me!"
+
+"For that crack I should have walked away and left you to your fate!"
+Dave growled. Then, with a frown: "The old fellow looks like Pierre
+Deschaud, huh? Did you see anybody else go in there?"
+
+"Not a soul," Freddy said. "And that's what makes me think that we may
+be in luck--I mean, that Pierre Deschaud is really alive. I didn't see a
+single German, or Belgian, so much as glance at the place. Anyway, we've
+got to take a chance, Dave. We've got to contact Deschaud as soon as we
+can. I'm worried about seeing all those troops yesterday. And maybe you
+didn't have the chance to notice, but I did. The harbor is filled with
+all kinds of barges and strange-looking boats."
+
+"For the invasion!" Dave breathed. "Ten to one they've been making them
+here."
+
+"That's my guess, too," Freddy nodded solemnly. "They could fill them
+with those troops, and tugs could take them down the river in no time at
+all. Of course, we may be all wrong. But I can tell you I'm more than a
+little worried. We've got to get in touch with Pierre Deschaud as soon
+as possible. Wait a minute."
+
+Freddy suddenly got to his feet and went over to one of the windows. He
+peered out a moment, and then turned and beckoned to Dave to come over.
+Dave went over, and Freddy pointed a finger.
+
+"See between those two buildings?" he said. "See the front of that
+little shop on the opposite side of that street? The one that has a
+window with a broken pane of glass?"
+
+Dave pressed his face to the glass and stared in the direction Freddy
+pointed. He looked across some courts at the rear of the buildings on
+both blocks and down a short alley to the next street. On the opposite
+side of the street he could see the doorway, and a part of the front of
+a small shop that hadn't felt a paint brush in a long time. The windows
+were so dirty from the weather that he couldn't see inside. Some paper
+or a strip of canvas covered a space where the window glass was three
+quarters missing.
+
+"Sure, I see it," he said.
+
+"That's Number Sixteen Rue Chartres," Freddy said. "Another bit of luck
+for me. This place, I mean. When scrounging around early yesterday
+morning, I noticed that this place was all tumbled down, and not a soul
+living here. I decided to find a good place to hide in case I had to.
+Imagine how good I felt when I discovered that if I wished, I could sit
+here all day and keep an eye on Number Sixteen!"
+
+"Luck, my eye!" Dave grinned, and patted Freddy on the back. "It was
+using the old bean, and you know it. I bet you'd already spotted that
+alley going off Rue Chartres and came around on this street to see what
+was what."
+
+"Well, I was lucky to find this place like it is, anyway," Freddy said
+with a shrug. "And--Look, somebody has just put on a light over there!
+He keeps it burning all day long. An oil lamp, I fancy. With the windows
+that dirty, I fancy he jolly well has to have some sort of a light
+inside. He's up and about now, Dave! Shall we--"
+
+"Nix!" Dave cut him off short. "Not _we_! Just _me_!"
+
+"I say, Dave--!"
+
+Dave grinned and put up both hands for silence.
+
+"Keep your shirt on, Freddy!" he said. "You're still forgetting about
+those duds you're wearing. You might not get ten feet before they'd have
+you by the scruff of the neck. I'll go and--No!"
+
+Freddy blinked and looked startled.
+
+"What's the matter, Dave?" he asked.
+
+Dave didn't answer right away. He scowled and went through the pockets
+of his uniform. Suddenly his face lighted up with a grin as he pulled
+out a German one mark piece.
+
+"I guess I was getting a little selfish for a minute, Freddy," he said.
+"After all, we're in this thing together. Tell you what. We'll toss this
+coin. Heads you go, tails I go. This uniform will fit either of us."
+
+"Wait a minute," Freddy cut in. "Perhaps we can find some other clothes
+for me, and then we can both go. I think the two of us should go
+together, Dave, in case there's trouble."
+
+"Maybe you've got something there," Dave said with a frown. "But I don't
+know. Maybe it would be best the other way. If the two of us should get
+caught, that would be bad. The Nazis would darn well see that there
+wasn't any more escaping. Now, if just one of us goes, then the other
+fellow can watch from the window here. If something happens, he'll still
+be free. See what I mean? No, I really think it's bad dope for both of
+us to contact Deschaud the first time, don't you?"
+
+Freddy pursed his lips in thoughtful silence for a moment, then nodded
+abruptly.
+
+"Yes, you're right, Dave," he said. "I'll stay here and watch. If you
+get into trouble, I'll try and figure a way to get you out of it. No, no
+arguments, now. You found that uniform, and you're already dressed in
+it. Besides, you look and act just like a Nazi officer. You really do,
+Dave."
+
+Dave scowled and gave him a searching look. Freddy grinned impishly.
+
+"Oh, I do, do I?" Dave growled. Then, grinning himself: "Okay, Mr.
+Wise-cracker, I'll take a whirl at it, if you insist."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEEN
+
+_Sixteen Rue Chartres_
+
+
+As Dave Dawson strutted German officer style along the sidewalk of Rue
+Chartres, he had the crazy feeling that he was ten feet tall, twice as
+wide, and was wearing a uniform made out of striped red and white silk,
+with a lamp shade for a hat. There were several German soldiers and
+civilians wandering along the same street, and to tell the truth, not a
+single person glanced his way. True, the soldiers saluted him as he
+passed, but they did so automatically with their thoughts obviously on
+other things. But to Dave's pounding heart, and his tightly drawn
+nerves, it was as though he were the most conspicuous thing in all
+Belgium. It made him angry to think such silly thoughts, but that
+didn't help him any. Every step he took was another moment of tingling
+tension. And when finally he came abreast of Number Sixteen, his throat
+was dry as a bone, and little beads of nervous sweat were trickling down
+his spine.
+
+He paused there and bent over, supposedly to adjust the lacings of his
+German boots. Instead, though, he took advantage of the moment to glance
+keen-eyed about to see if anybody was watching him, or if by chance
+anybody was trailing along behind him. There was not a single sign of
+anything like that, however. The military and civilian population of
+that part of Antwerp was going about its business, and leaving one Dave
+Dawson strictly alone.
+
+Presently he straightened up, got a firm hold on his jumping nerves, and
+boldly pushed in through the ancient door of Number Sixteen. A bell
+tinkled somewhere as he stepped inside. Its sound was echoed by the
+pounding of his heart, but he only clamped down harder on his nerves. He
+closed the door behind him and looked around. A gasp of amazement almost
+spilled off his lips. In all his life he had never seen such a mixed up
+conglomeration of junk. There wasn't even a suggestion of order about
+the room. Coils of rope, parts of marine engines, navigation charts,
+books, boxes, dirty sea clothes, and goodness knows what were scattered
+over the place. Shelves along the walls were broken and sagging, their
+contents long since dumped down onto the floor.
+
+A single oil lamp with a smoke-smudged shade was on a table with only
+three legs. In a chair by the table sat an old man in the most
+disreputable-looking clothes possible. His face was thin and the
+features so pointed as to give the whole a hatchet appearance. Shaggy
+white hair adorned his head, and a dirty grey beard reached down to the
+second button of the torn shirt he wore. He held a length of rope in his
+gnarled bony hands, and had obviously been working on it with a splicing
+spike when Dave entered. Right now he was staring up at Dave out of the
+brightest, most piercing set of eyes the young R.A.F. pilot had ever
+looked into in all his life. They were like X-ray eyes that could look
+right through your brain and count the hairs on the back of your head
+from a distance of twenty feet.
+
+For a brief instant the two of them locked glances. Then the old man
+dropped his rope and splicing spike and got to his feet.
+
+"Good morning, _Herr Leutnant_," he said in flawless German. "Is there
+something I can do for you this morning?"
+
+Before Dave could reply, a curtain over an opening at the rear of the
+disordered room was pushed aside, and an old woman, perhaps even more
+aged than the man, stepped through. Her eyes flew to Dave's uniform, and
+the corners of her thin mouth tightened, and stark fear flickered in her
+eyes.
+
+That sudden look of stark fear in the old woman's eyes made Dave's heart
+leap with hope. He felt sure that this old man was the real Pierre
+Deschaud. He was sure of it because the old woman's flash of sudden
+terror told him she was afraid that, as a Nazi officer, he had come
+there to do them harm--perhaps to take her husband away. He did not jump
+at that conclusion, however. He was still on mighty ticklish ground. He
+had to be sure, _really_ sure. He took his eyes off the woman and looked
+again at the man.
+
+"I was with a friend," he said stiffly. "We became separated and I am
+now hunting him. I was wondering if he came in here."
+
+"No one ever comes in here," the old man said quietly, and kept his
+burning gaze fixed on Dave's face. "Perhaps if you could describe your
+friend, _Herr Leutnant_, I will recognize him if he should come in."
+
+Dave shrugged as though he didn't think that very important, but it was
+simply a movement to cover up the tremendous quiver of excitement that
+rippled through his body. The moment of moments was now at hand!
+
+"I will probably find him some place outside," he said, and started to
+turn. "We are leaving soon for Houyet, and I would not like him to be
+left behind."
+
+Dave glanced at the old man as he spoke the secret code word, but there
+was not so much as a flicker of the eyelids. Bitter disappointment and a
+tingling sense of fear crept into Dave's heart. He hesitated a brief
+instant and then continued turning toward the door. In fact, he had
+taken a couple of steps when the old man's quiet voice stopped him.
+
+"I am sorry you have lost your comrade, _Herr Leutnant_," he said. "It
+is not likely that he will come into a place such as this. I have
+nothing to sell but my humble services. I was a marine engineer in my
+day, but that was long ago. You are interested in boats, _Herr
+Leutnant_?"
+
+Something caused Dave to stop and turn around.
+
+"I have done a little sailing," he said.
+
+"And so have I, but many years ago," the old man said with a sigh. "But
+I did my design work on big boats. My masterpiece was the Fraser. She
+was built right here in Antwerp for an American company. She was
+beautiful."
+
+Fraser! Colonel Fraser! The mention of that name wiped the last of
+Dave's fears away. His eyes widened with joy, and he started to open his
+mouth, but a sudden fierce warning look leaped into the eyes of the old
+man.
+
+"I have never heard of that boat," Dave said. "For me, the most
+beautiful boats are built in Germany."
+
+"Ah, yes, they build beautiful boats, indeed, in Germany," the aged one
+said, and started fishing around in the drawer of the table next to him.
+"The Fraser, of course, was not a big boat like the Bremen or the
+Europa. But she was a lovely boat. I think I have a picture of her some
+place. You would please me by looking at it, _Herr Leutnant_. You can
+spare the time?"
+
+As the old fellow spoke, he shot a quick meaningful glance at Dave. The
+young R.A.F. ace caught the meaning and shrugged.
+
+"I have a moment to spare," he grunted. "Show me the picture."
+
+"Ah, here it is!" the old fellow said triumphantly, and pulled something
+from out of the table drawer. "Here, you can see better under the light.
+This is not a very good picture, but it will give you an idea of what
+the Fraser looked like."
+
+As the old man spoke, he beckoned Dave over to the table and blew some
+dust from an old photograph he had taken from the drawer. Dave stepped
+over and looked down at the picture. It was one of a single funnel cargo
+steamer, and not a very trim-looking vessel, at that. It was quite short
+and stubby-looking, and seemed to be riding exceeding high in the water.
+
+"Is she not a beauty, _Herr Leutnant_?" the old man said eagerly, and
+then suddenly slid a piece of paper over the lower half of the
+photograph. "She was four thousand tons, and built sturdy as a rock. I
+myself was aboard on her maiden cruise."
+
+The old man continued talking about the maiden cruise of the
+funny-looking ship, but Dave wasn't listening. Every ounce of his
+attention was focussed on the old man's right hand. He held a stubby
+pencil in his hand and was scribbling on the sheet of paper he had
+placed over the lower half of the photo which he held in his left hand.
+Dave's brain was on fire with excitement by the time the man finally
+finished and he was able to read the message. The message read:
+
+     "Take care! Their eyes and ears are all about. One mile west along
+     the river, there is an old coaling wharf. Just beyond is an old
+     river boat half under water. The bow is above water, and there is a
+     hole on the port side. One can wade out to the hole. Meet me inside
+     that hole at nine tonight. Now ask questions about this picture,
+     and then leave this place."
+
+Dave was forced to steel himself for a second or two to make sure he
+would keep the wild excitement out of his voice. He reached out a
+finger and pointed at the bow.
+
+"That doesn't look right," he said. "It seems to ride too high. It does
+not look to me like a comfortable boat in a heavy sea."
+
+As Dave spoke, he quickly took the stubby pencil from the old man's
+hand, and wrote, "There are two of us," on the slip of paper. The old
+man nodded, glanced up at him and nodded again.
+
+"Ah, that proves you know about boats, _Herr Leutnant_!" he cried, and
+nodded some more. "You are quite right. She was not a very good sea boat
+at first. We had to make some changes. Afterwards she could ride out any
+kind of a gale. But perhaps this old man is boring you. So I will stop.
+I hope you find your comrade, _Herr Leutnant_."
+
+Dave straightened up and went through the motions of smoothing out his
+uniform.
+
+"He is probably about some place," he grunted, and turned toward the
+door. Then, on sudden thought, he kicked aside a coil of greasy rope,
+and turned his head toward the old man. "You have a dirty place here,
+old man," he said. "You had better do something about it, or you may
+get into trouble."
+
+As the old man mumbled apologies and promises, Dave stepped outside and
+slammed the door behind him. Hot and cold chills were taking turns
+racing up and down his spine. His first impulse was to take to his heels
+and race madly back to Freddy with the news. He curbed the impulse,
+though, and started along the street at an even gait. So Pierre Deschaud
+_was_ alive? He and Freddy were to meet him in secret at nine o'clock
+that night! What would Deschaud tell them? Did he really have
+information about a Nazi attempt to invade England? Colonel Fraser had
+said that he was willing to stake his life that Deschaud knew, but that
+wasn't proof that Deschaud actually did know. And it was strange, that
+note Deschaud had written--and, by the way, had made disappear as if by
+magic as Dave had left. Deschaud had warned him that Nazi ears and eyes
+were all about. Where? There in Deschaud's place? But that was a crazy
+thought. Yet he had had the feeling that Deschaud had been scared stiff
+that he would say something that would be a tip-off to anybody listening
+near. But could there be Nazi agents in that place?
+
+Dave shivered at the thought and was forced to swallow hard a couple of
+times. Before he could stop himself, he turned his head and took a quick
+glance back over his shoulder. However, there still wasn't a single sign
+of anybody following him. Just the same he increased his pace slightly.
+A few minutes more and he had crawled and scrambled over the piles of
+rubble in the alley next to the deserted house where Freddy was waiting,
+and was walking into the room.
+
+The grin on his face faded, and the words rising to his tongue clogged
+in his throat. Freddy Farmer wasn't there. The room was completely
+deserted. Panic gripped Dave, and his first thought was to spin around
+and beat a quick retreat. Somebody had found out their hiding place.
+Somebody had sneaked up and grabbed Freddy while he was talking with
+Pierre Deschaud. And he had walked right back into the trap.
+
+Cold sweat broke out all over his body. His heart became a chunk of ice
+that slid down toward his boots. His mouth and throat went bone dry and
+it was desperately hard to breath. Like a man struck dumb, he stood
+there, unable to move, unable to decide whether to stay or flee. Then
+suddenly sounds on the other side of the door he had just closed broke
+the spell. They were the sounds of footsteps. He took one wild look at
+the windows and saw that escape was impossible in that direction. The
+room was rather high above the ground. He whirled around and crouched,
+fists clenched, and his body tensed to spring forward. Come what may, he
+wasn't going to be taken without a fight, even though he was unarmed.
+
+An instant later the door was opened and Freddy Farmer stepped into the
+room. He stopped short and gaped pop-eyed at Dave.
+
+"Good grief, Dave!" he gasped. "Are you ill? What a face!"
+
+Dave released air from his lungs in a whistling sound and straightened
+up slowly. Reaction set in at once, and his legs felt so rubbery he had
+to put a hand against the wall for support.
+
+"Ill?" he choked out. "Man, oh, man! I'm practically dead from fright
+right this minute. Gosh, Freddy, where've you been? Jeepers! Did I get a
+belt when I came back here and found you gone! I thought the Nazis had
+nabbed you."
+
+Freddy started to laugh, then instantly cut it off short as he saw the
+look on Dave's face.
+
+"I say, I'm terribly sorry, Dave," he said. "I should have thought of
+that, but it completely skipped my mind. To tell you the truth, I got to
+thinking after you left, about my clothes. I can't go out in them, and I
+certainly can't stay here in this place forever. So I got to thinking
+about it. Well, you were lucky, so why shouldn't I be lucky, too?"
+
+Freddy stopped and held out a suit of clothes he had flung over his arm.
+The suit was covered with dust and even raised a cloud as Freddy moved
+his arm. But it seemed to be in fairly good condition, even though it
+wasn't exactly 1940 style.
+
+"I stayed at the window until I saw you leave Number Sixteen," Freddy
+said. "Then I did a bit of scrounging. The Kind Fairy must have been
+right at my elbow, for in the third room I looked into I found these, in
+an old box in a closet. Some other clothes were there, too. These looked
+the best, though. So here we are. But never mind about me. What about
+Deschaud? You saw him? You talked with him?"
+
+Dave wiped sweat from his brow, heaved another long sigh of relief, and
+nodded.
+
+"Right," he said. "And it's Deschaud. I'm sure of that. We are to meet
+him at nine o'clock tonight. Now, cut the questions, pal. Just give me a
+chance and I'll tell you everything. And while I'm talking, change your
+clothes. Just looking at that peasant get-up gives me the shivers. Take
+it off, quick, and ditch it."
+
+While Freddy changed into his new disguise, Dave told detail by detail
+about his visit with Pierre Deschaud. Freddy didn't interrupt once, but
+there was a worried look in his eyes by the time Dave had finished.
+
+"I guess it was Deschaud, all right," he said. "But I certainly don't
+like that 'eyes and ears about' stuff. Do you think he meant the old
+woman with him?"
+
+"No," Dave said, and shook his head. "She was scared stiff when I walked
+in. She stood where she could see him writing. And when I left there was
+a look of hope, not fear, in her eyes. No, I'm positive that she's his
+wife, or his sister, anyway."
+
+"Nine o'clock tonight, eh?" Freddy murmured as though to himself. "And
+it isn't nine o'clock in the morning yet. What'll we do in the
+meantime? Just wait?"
+
+Dave gave him a scornful look.
+
+"Well, we could go call on the Nazi Commandant at the City Hall, and see
+how he's getting along," he grunted. "I've got two better ideas,
+though."
+
+"They'd better be!" Freddy said, and gave him a dark scowl. "What two
+ideas?"
+
+Dave slipped his hand under his German officer's tunic.
+
+"First a bout with our emergency rations," he said. "My stomach's just
+about decided my throat has been cut. After that, a few hours of
+shut-eye. I've got a hunch that it won't hurt a bit to stock up on some
+sleep."
+
+Their glances met and stayed locked for a long minute. Neither spoke,
+because each knew what was in the other's mind. Nine o'clock that night
+was their Zero Hour. At nine that night they would learn what they had
+come through a hundred lurking dangers to find out. Would it be the end,
+or, as they both hoped and prayed, would it simply be a glorious
+fulfillment of their mission?
+
+Suddenly Dave grinned and broke the tensed silence.
+
+"And there's another reason why I want some shut-eye, too," he said.
+
+"I don't like that grin," Freddy said cautiously. "But I'll bite. What?"
+
+"If my eyes are closed," Dave said, and backed away a couple of steps,
+"I won't be able to see that trick suit of clothes you swiped. Boy!
+Would your girl friend give you the gate if she saw you in that rig.
+Hot-diggity! Ain't you something the cat dragged in!"
+
+Freddy snorted, then leaned forward and sniffed loudly.
+
+"Why not be honest?" he asked. "That staff car and duffel bag story was
+just a fib, wasn't it? You really found that Nazi uniform in a garbage
+can, didn't you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEEN
+
+_Pierre Deschaud Speaks_
+
+
+Black night had again settled down over Europe. Layers of cloud scud and
+fog completely hit the stars, and to Dave and Freddy, crouched down on a
+sandy strip of shore not twenty feet from the waters of the Scheldt
+River, it seemed as though they were the only two people alive in the
+whole world. All about them was darkness and utter silence. Antwerp was
+just a darker blot a mile or so to their left. And although by staring
+hard they could catch the flicker of pin point lights, the city was so
+dark and still that the little points of light could well have been
+their imagination playing them tricks.
+
+It was now exactly eight minutes of nine by Dave's radium dial wrist
+watch. A little over an hour ago, when the shadows of coming night had
+begun to fall, they had slipped out of their hiding place and started a
+roundabout trip to the spot where they now crouched. Death had walked
+with them every step of the way, waiting and ready to pounce about them
+both and gobble them up. But Lady Luck had also traveled with them. And
+although on three occasions they had come very close to stumbling
+headlong into Nazi black-out patrols, they had avoided them in the nick
+of time, quickly changed their route and hastened onward. And now they
+crouched down on the sandy strip of shore and stared hard at the
+lopsided darker shadow out there in the water. It was the water-logged
+and half sunk houseboat, and by straining their eyes hard they could
+just barely make out the jagged hole stove in the bow on the port side.
+
+Presently Dave turned his head and leaned toward Freddy.
+
+"Deschaud said to meet us inside the thing," he whispered in the English
+youth's ear, "so I guess we'd better get moving. If anybody is around,
+he certainly is a darn sight quieter than the night. What do you
+think?"
+
+"Same as you," Freddy whispered back. "We'd better get out there. Only
+thing we can do. Watch the noise you make wading."
+
+"You're telling me?" Dave echoed with a silent chuckle. "You bet I'll
+watch out. Sure could use a flashlight, though. Okay, let's go."
+
+The two boys slowly stood up and crept down to the water's edge. For
+mutual balance and guidance they clasped hands and started wading. The
+water was cold and the bottom was very muddy, making it doubly hard to
+keep their balance. Neither of them, however, met with an accident, and
+eventually they were directly under the gaping hole in the boat's bow.
+There the water wasn't more than a very few inches above their knees,
+and it was not difficult to grab hold of the jagged ends of broken hull
+planks and pull themselves in through the hole.
+
+It was pitch black inside, and everything they touched was wet and
+slimy. A thousand different kinds of smells struck them in waves. Inch
+by inch they crawled forward until Dave found a sturdy cross beam that
+was comparatively dry. He pulled Freddy to it, and together they sat
+down and turned around so that they could look out the opening toward
+the shore. For a moment or so it was like staring at a black curtain
+hung in a room with all the lights out. Bit by bit, though, shadows
+began to take shape and they were able to make out the exact shoreline
+and the tree clumps and building rooftops beyond.
+
+"Well, it's up to Deschaud, now," Dave whispered. "Gosh! I sure hope
+nothing's happened to him! It's ten minutes after nine!"
+
+"I'm thinking the same thoughts," Freddy whispered back. "But you can
+bet I sure hope they're all wrong. I--_Dave!_"
+
+Freddy had stopped short and gripped Dave's arm, and was pointing his
+other hand toward the shore. Dave said nothing, for he had already
+spotted the faint shadow moving slowly along the strip of sandy beach.
+The shadow suddenly stopped, and then whirled as a second shadow seemed
+virtually to leap right down out of the black sky. The two shadows
+merged together and swayed back and forth. Then one of them fell back
+and down onto the sand. Freddy's fingers were digging like steel barbs
+into Dave's arm, but he hardly felt the pain. His breath was locked in
+his lungs, and all the world seemed to stand still as he kept his eyes
+riveted on the shadowy scene ashore.
+
+After a moment or so, the shadowy figure remaining on its feet bent over
+and gathered the fallen shadow in its arms and slung it across a
+shoulder like a wet sack of meal. Then the shadow moved slowly out into
+the water. Hardly daring to breathe, Dave and Freddy watched the shadow
+come closer and closer. Presently it was at the opening in the bow. It
+paused there motionless, and it was all Dave could do to choke back the
+shout that struggled to rise up in his throat. Then suddenly a tiny
+needle thin beam of light flashed across his face and went out almost
+instantly. Then came a hoarse whisper.
+
+"Give me a hand! Help me lift this traitor inside! Quick!"
+
+The two boys moved forward at once, caught hold of the limp form and
+pulled it inside the hull of the boat. A second or so later and Pierre
+Deschaud came slithering in like a greased cat.
+
+"Leave him there," he whispered, and touched them lightly on the arms.
+"He will be a traitor to Belgium no more. Follow me, and be careful how
+you step. This craft was not built yesterday."
+
+Before either of them could ask a question, the old man snapped on the
+needle point of light again and glided past them as silently as an eel
+in a barrel of oil. They silently followed him deeper into the boat.
+After a moment or so he pushed open a small bulkhead door and stepped
+into a bare cabin that had eighteen inches of water on the deck floor.
+He paused and waited for them to pass through, then stepped inside
+himself and pulled the door shut. There were two empty bunks fitted to
+the walls of the cabin well above the water line. Deschaud gestured with
+his light for them to sit on one, while he sat down on the bunk facing
+them. Then he held his light down at the water, which threw back a faint
+glow that made it possible for them to see each other.
+
+It was Freddy who spoke first.
+
+"What about that one in the bow?" he asked.
+
+"We can forget about him," Deschaud said, and looked at Dave. "He was
+the reason I was so scared this morning. He was in the next room, and
+listening, of course. The Nazis do not suspect me, but they do not
+overlook anything, either. We have many traitors here in Antwerp, scum
+who would send their mothers and fathers to the firing squad for a few
+extra loaves of bread from the Nazi brutes. He was one of them. I have
+known it for a long time, but I did not dare do anything about it.
+Tonight, it was different, however. I knew that he would report this
+boat to his Nazi pay-master. There is far more at stake than his rotten
+life. And so, there is one less traitor in Antwerp."
+
+As the old Belgian finished, he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture as
+if dismissing the thought. Dave shivered inwardly, and there was a
+pounding in his head. So it had been true! A traitor, who could have
+bought about his death by a single word to his Nazi boss, had been
+lurking in the next room all the time. Thank goodness he had not been
+such a fool as to ask Deschaud questions right then and there. Thank
+goodness the brave and courageous old Belgian patriot had warned him
+before he'd made a damaging slip of the tongue!
+
+"Tell me your story quickly," Pierre Deschaud's voice suddenly broke
+into his thoughts. "How did you get here? Who sent you? What is it you
+wish? Were you seen by the Nazis? Were you followed here? Did you meet
+anybody on the way? Tell me everything quickly; then I will decide if it
+is best to talk."
+
+Both boys realized instantly that Pierre Deschaud was checking up on
+them; making sure that it was safe to tell what he knew. After all, he
+carried his life in his hands twenty-four hours of the day. And when you
+do that, you have to be sure of everything, no matter how small or
+trivial. And so the boys told him everything that had happened to them
+from the time they had stepped in Air Vice-Marshal Saunders' office at
+the Air Ministry right up to the present moment. Pierre Deschaud watched
+them closely out of his X-ray eyes. By the time they had finished, the
+old man had visibly relaxed, and there was an expression of profound
+admiration on his face.
+
+"The world will long remember the gallant men of the British Royal Air
+Force," he said in a voice deep with sincere feeling. "And you two well
+represent that splendid organization. In the air or on the ground, your
+courage and your fighting spirit are no less. I salute you from the
+bottom of my heart. All loyal Belgians salute you. Now!"
+
+The old man paused and leaned forward on the edge of the bunk. As he did
+so, he drew a folded sheet of dirty paper from under his torn and
+oil-smeared shirt.
+
+"I am convinced you come from the great Colonel Fraser," he said. "Ah,
+how I admire that man! How I should like to meet him one day."
+
+"And he feels the same way about you, sir," Freddy spoke up.
+
+The old man smiled, and the warm light of great joy glowed in his eyes.
+
+"I pray _Le Bon Dieu_ will bring that day to pass," he said softly.
+"However, it is of the present we speak. Listen carefully, you two. The
+Nazis are going to attempt to invade England. They are going to attempt
+to set up a bridgehead on British soil. Not at Dover, or at Hastings, or
+at Brighton on the south coast. It is to be made at a point, a nine mile
+strip of shoreline, just north of Harwich on the east coast. And that
+attempt will be made on the night of the sixteenth after a terrific
+bombardment by the _Luftwaffe_ on the fifteenth."
+
+"The sixteenth?" Dave gasped excitedly. "Three days from today?"
+
+"That is correct," the Belgian said solemnly. "But the _Luftwaffe_ raids
+on the fifteenth will be directed at the _south coast_. It is a trick
+to make the British believe that an attack will be made there, while
+actually the attack will be made much further north on the east coast.
+Close to seventy-five thousand troops will be used in the first attack.
+If they gain a foothold in England, three times that number will
+follow."
+
+Dave unconsciously tried to check the question, but it popped right out
+of his mouth.
+
+"How do you know this to be true?" he asked.
+
+For an instant he expected to see anger flare up in the Belgian's eyes.
+No such thing happened, however. Pierre Deschaud simply smiled and
+slowly nodded his white head.
+
+"Naturally, you ask that question," he said quietly. "It is of course
+strange that I, an old man, should know the one thing the Nazis wish to
+keep secret. I do know, nevertheless. I have known all about it for over
+a month."
+
+The old man paused, lifted a bony hand and pointed in the direction of
+Antwerp harbor.
+
+"The day they first set foot in Antwerp, they started taking charge of
+every boat in the harbor, as well as every place where boats are made,"
+he said. "Those of us who were not blind or stupid knew at once the
+reason. They were starting to prepare even then for the coming invasion
+of England. I have been a marine engineer all my life. I know how to
+build boats as well as the next man. The Germans needed men to build
+barges--long high-sided barges that could be powered by Diesel engines
+taken from tanks and armored cars. They put hundreds of us to work
+building those boats. I was one of those men, and the Germans soon
+realized I knew how to build boats. I acted grateful and overjoyed that
+they had come. I let them know my hatred toward England for starting the
+war. I played right into their dirty hands at every turn. It is hard on
+your heart to strike down a friend, a brave soldier, when you hear him
+say something against the Germans. Many times, though, I was forced to
+do that. It was hard, terribly hard, but there was nothing else but to
+act as I did. There was more at stake than the love and affection of a
+few dear friends. There was Belgium, and Europe, and England--and
+perhaps the entire Christian world."
+
+Pierre Deschaud stopped talking and brushed a hand across his eyes,
+which glistened with tears. Dave wanted to reach out and touch him, and
+so did Freddy. But they didn't move. They knew in their hearts that the
+brave old man did not want sympathy. He had done his duty, and the
+knowledge of that was far, far greater than all the sympathy in the
+world.
+
+"It was hard, yes," he continued after a moment, "but it was something I
+had to do. I wormed my way into the good graces of my Nazi jailers. They
+did not know that I spoke and understood German perfectly. Nor did they
+know I can remember words spoken for the rest of my life. No, it was not
+so easy as all that. The Germans did not discuss the invasion much. They
+had received their orders from their superiors to keep their mouths
+shut. However, a word was spoken here, a word was spoken there, and I
+filed every word in my memory. All dates, all names of towns, all names
+of boats, and a hundred other little items. Alone, not one of them means
+a thing, but after weeks of collecting and remembering words spoken,
+slips of the tongue, I was able to gain complete knowledge of what was
+planned."
+
+The old man paused again and held up the folded sheet of dirty paper.
+
+"It is all here, written down in detail," he said as triumph rang in his
+voice. "Every move they plan to make. When, where, and how. Their
+complete plan. Get this paper back to England, and the Nazi murderers
+can be given a smashing blow from which they will not recover for a long
+time. Get this paper back to your superior officers, and Adolf Hitler
+will think twice about sending his forces against the British Isles.
+Mark you, smash this attempt, and Hitler will leave England alone and
+look eastward for new nations to conquer, not westward toward England."
+
+Pierre Deschaud stopped talking and held out the paper. Dave started to
+reach out his hand for it, then quickly drew it back. He turned to
+Freddy.
+
+"We're both R.A.F., Freddy," he said. "But you're _England_, too. You
+carry the paper, and I'll just tag along with you."
+
+Freddy tried to speak, but his throat was too choked up. He pressed
+Dave's knee hard with one hand, reached out the other and silently
+accepted the paper.
+
+"There can be no greater friendship than this!" Pierre Deschaud
+whispered softly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEEN
+
+_Danger In The Dark_
+
+
+For a long moment tingling silence settled over the trio. Then Pierre
+Deschaud made a little gesture with his hands, and broke it.
+
+"And now, the most dangerous part of all," he said, "your safe return to
+England with that very valuable paper. And you _must_ get back. Five
+other brave men came for the information you now possess, and they died.
+_You_ must not die. If you fail, all is lost. There will not be enough
+time left for Colonel Fraser to send over another agent to contact me.
+It is up to you two, now."
+
+The two boys nodded grimly.
+
+"Colonel Fraser spoke of there being a few military air fields at
+Antwerp," Dave spoke up. "What is the nearest and best one for us to
+tackle and try to steal a plane?"
+
+"I will take care of that little matter, too," Pierre Deschaud said.
+"Were you to try such a thing alone, you would not live ten minutes.
+That happened to two of those five. Two others were killed before they
+even reached a field. And the fifth, a fine lad not much older than
+either of you, was not fast enough. He was shot down to his death before
+he was out of sight of Antwerp. But you--you _must_ get through!"
+
+"Can we get started now?" Dave asked, and nervously clenched and
+unclenched his fists. "The sooner the better is the way I see it."
+
+"Right you are," Freddy echoed with a nod. Then, looking at Pierre
+Deschaud: "There's no use wasting time unless we have to."
+
+"But of course not," the Belgian patriot said, and rose to his feet. "We
+will start at once. Come with me, and be careful how you step."
+
+The old Belgian turned to a door on the side opposite to that through
+which they had entered. The door stuck a bit, and he was forced to put
+his shoulder to it hard before it gave way. Admiration for the aged man,
+and something close to love, stirred in Dave Dawson. Pierre Deschaud
+might be close to seventy, but he had the strength of two men, and the
+courage of a brigade.
+
+Deschaud flickered his light forward to reveal rotting bulkheads
+amidships. The boat was well down by the stern and at a dangerous slant.
+Halfway along the port side, Dave suddenly made out the shape of a small
+shallow rowboat. An instant later he noted that the oars were joined and
+fixed to swivel brackets so that one could row facing the bow instead of
+facing the stern as is the usual case. The Belgian sloshed through a
+foot of sluggish water, climbed into the boat, and motioned to them to
+get in.
+
+"Sit near the bow," he directed. "That makes her ride better for the one
+who does the rowing. And I will be that one."
+
+The man paused, chuckled softly and patted the side of the boat
+affectionately with his hand.
+
+"This is one boat in Antwerp that the Nazi pigs know nothing about," he
+said in a purring voice. "I made her with my own hands years ago. Before
+the Nazis arrived, I hid her here in this sunken hulk. She has been
+worth many times her weight in gold to me. To lose her would be like
+losing my dearest friend. Now, sit steady, for I am about to put out the
+light. You will hear me moving, but do not be alarmed. I have a secret
+way to get her into the Scheldt. I remove but two or three loose planks,
+and we glide through as nice as can be."
+
+"Where are we headed, sir?" Freddy whispered in the darkness.
+
+"Directly across the river from this point," Pierre Deschaud said,
+"there is one of their military air fields. A mile of the shore is
+dangerous swamp ground, however; a man who did not know the way could
+lose himself, and probably drown, before he even realized what had
+happened. But I have lived in Antwerp almost all of my life. I know that
+swamp as one knows the palm of his hand. I will lead you through it
+safely. And when we reached the edge of the field--but we will attend to
+that matter when we come to it. Now, silence, please. Not even a
+whisper. They patrol the river all night long in their E-boats. And they
+have keen ears and eyes, these Nazi sons of the devil. Now, we start."
+
+Dave and Freddy, crouched near the bow of the small craft, could hear
+Pierre Deschaud moving, and could hear soft grating sounds like boards
+being rubbed together. A moment later they felt the boat move under
+them, and a moment after that the darkness was a little less, and a
+chilly wind blew against their faces. They had slid out of the half
+sunken houseboat and were now out in the Scheldt River.
+
+Dave's nerves danced and twitched around, and his head felt light from
+excitement. He slowly turned and stared off into the blackness to his
+left. He thought he saw a couple of dim lights far away, but he was not
+sure. Then gradually his eyes became accustomed to the change of shadowy
+darkness, and he could make out the sprawling dark hulk that was
+Antwerp, crouching like some motionless monster on the banks of the
+Scheldt River. He tilted his head and looked up to see that cloud scud
+and fog still blotted out the stars. At that moment he heard the
+throbbing drone of unsynchronized German aircraft engines far to the
+east. He was not sure, but once or twice he thought he also heard the
+faint _cr-rump_ of bursting anti-aircraft shells. However, though he
+peered hard in that direction, he could not see any flashes of fire in
+the dark sky.
+
+Then suddenly there was a muffled roar of sound up the river in the
+direction of the waterfront center of Antwerp, and a long beam of light
+stabbed out across the water. Pierre Deschaud's command was like a
+shrill whistle.
+
+"Face down on the bottom of the boat, quickly! Don't move a single
+muscle. Pray hard they do not catch us in that light!"
+
+Dave and Freddy dropped flat and practically tried to press themselves
+into the wooden bottom of the boat. Pierre Deschaud also crumpled down
+instantly. And as the throbbing of a speed-boat drew closer and closer,
+its sound was matched by the wild beating of three hearts in the bottom
+of that rowboat. Dave clenched his teeth in an effort to ease the
+terrible strain of just waiting there helplessly for the beam of light
+to swerve and catch them in its brilliant glow. Each second was a
+minute, and the fifteen that ticked by while they crouched there
+motionless were as a lifetime in a world of unforgettable torment and
+torture. At the end of that time, the German river craft had roared past
+their position and was streaking farther on downstream. Each of them
+realized it at the same time, for they all straightened up together.
+
+"Bless _Le Bon Dieu_ for saving us that time!" Pierre Deschaud breathed
+in a fervent whisper. "That is a trick of theirs. They slide along
+without lights, and then suddenly switch on the searchlight, and race
+forward at full speed, hoping to catch some poor devil where they have
+forbidden him to be. A thousand curses on their souls. We will yet drive
+the last of them from this part of the world!"
+
+Pierre made a gurgling sound in his throat for emphasis, then fell to on
+the oars again. He had greased them well, and had it not been for the
+movement of the boat, Dave wouldn't have been able to tell if the man
+was rowing or not. There was not so much as a whisper of sound from the
+oarlocks.
+
+Twice more they were forced to fall flat and hold their breath in fear
+as a Nazi river patrol boat streaked by. The last time its savage wash
+caught them amidships and rocked them about like a chip of wood in an
+angry sea. But they hardly noticed the tossing they received, they were
+so thankful that they had not been caught in the searchlight's beam.
+Then suddenly dark shapes rose up on either side of the boat. They
+glided along between the dark blurs for a few moments, and then the
+nose of the boat nudged into a muddy bank and came to a stop.
+
+"Don't move!" Pierre Deschaud whispered sharply. "That river was nothing
+for its dangers. This is the beginning of the difficult business. Sit
+still, and I will get out first. I know exactly where to step. And if
+one does not step just so--"
+
+The old Belgian left the rest hanging in mid-air as an additional
+warning to the two boys. He moved forward past them and climbed out. A
+tug or two brought the bow higher up on the mud. Then they heard his
+whisper again.
+
+"One of you give me your hand, and with your other hand take the hand of
+your friend," he said. "Do not let go for a single instant. This is most
+treacherous. Ah, yes, many men are buried here in this swamp. Now, we
+move very slowly. Put your foot where the man ahead has put his. If you
+slip and start to fall, do not cry out in alarm. Hold on tight to the
+hand you grasp."
+
+As Freddy was closer, he grasped Pierre Deschaud's hand and reached the
+other hand back to grab Dave's. Then, Indian file style, they started to
+move forward slowly foot by foot. In the distance Dave heard faint
+sounds, and it was all he could do to keep from lifting his eyes and
+peering ahead. He did not do so, however, for he would most certainly
+miss his footing and go pitching off into the deep muddy pools that
+lined the row of swamp hummocks along which they walked at a snail's
+pace.
+
+Time and time again Pierre Deschaud turned to the left or the right, but
+always it was in the general direction whence came the sounds. Dave's
+eyes smarted from peering down at Freddy's heels so constantly. But he
+blinked away the pain and kept doggedly onward. Every now and then some
+swamp animal would plop off a hummock into the water with a splash that
+sounded like a cannon going off to Dave's strained nerves. And he could
+tell from the sudden pressure of Freddy's hand gripping his that his pal
+wasn't enjoying the journey, either.
+
+For well over half an hour the old Belgian led them step by step through
+the swamp. Then finally they heard him sigh with relief, and a moment
+after that they felt firm hard ground under their feet. Dave raised his
+aching head and looked around. He saw nothing but darkness, but he
+plainly heard the throbbing purr of an aircraft engine in the distance.
+He stared hard in that direction, only to realize that they were
+standing at the bottom of a slight slope of ground. The Belgian pulled
+them close to him.
+
+"Keep hold of hands," he whispered. "And walk as though your shoes were
+made of feathers. When I stop, you must stop at once. Remember that. If
+you don't, you will die, my dear young friends."
+
+"How come?" Dave whispered as the Belgian paused for breath. "What's
+ahead?"
+
+"These Nazis fear sabotage at their fields," Pierre Deschaud replied.
+"So they have strung a wire fence about the entire area. The wire is
+charged with high voltage electricity. If you should stumble against it
+in the dark--you would never know it."
+
+"But how can we get near the planes, then?" Freddy asked.
+
+"Do not worry," the Belgian murmured. "I will take care of that fence.
+Now, come. Bend over as you walk, so."
+
+Hunched over forward, the trio crept stealthily up the slope and along
+the flat for some fifty yards. Then suddenly Pierre Deschaud stopped.
+Freddy and Dave froze in their tracks and peered ahead. Some three feet
+in front of them, they could just make out a five strand wire fence
+that was about six feet high. Beyond was a field of tall, waving,
+sun-scorched grass. And beyond that was the level expanse of the
+military flying field. They could see dark shapes that were the hangars
+and other buildings. And far over on the other side they could see a
+Heinkel night bomber in the faint glow of a single flare. Its prop was
+ticking over, and shadows walking past in front of the light indicated
+that mechanics were making night repairs. Then Pierre Deschaud
+whispered.
+
+"Get down flat on your stomachs," he directed, "one behind the other. Be
+ready to crawl forward when I say so. Crawl as if you were swimming, but
+do not lift your elbows. And keep your heads down. Now, wait just a
+moment."
+
+As the boys got down flat on the ground, Pierre Deschaud pulled a forked
+stick some two feet long from under his shirt. Then, crouching down, he
+hooked the bottom wire of the fence in the fork part and lifted it
+upward as high as he could.
+
+"Now, one at a time worm your way under," came his strained whisper.
+"Keep as close to the ground as you can. Now, go ahead."
+
+Dave hesitated a fraction of a second, and then started to inch his body
+forward. He did so by digging his fists and his toes into the ground and
+shoving. He kept his face so close to the ground that his nose was
+rubbing along it. Inch by inch he crawled forward, with air locked in
+his lungs and his heart hammering against his ribs. Just a few inches
+above him was sudden and terrible death. If Pierre Deschaud's strength
+should fail! Or if the forked stick should break and the deadly wire sap
+downward! Or if--
+
+"There, you are through!" he heard Pierre Deschaud's whisper. "Now, turn
+around and grasp your friend's outstretched hands and pull him under."
+
+Trembling like a leaf, and his body dripping from nervous tension, Dave
+got up on his hands and knees and swiveled around. Freddy's head and
+shoulders were already under the wire, and his hands were outstretched.
+Dave bent down and grabbed them and slowly pulled his pal through to
+safety. The instant Freddy's feet were clear of the wire, Pierre
+Deschaud removed the forked stick and let the straining wire snap back
+into place.
+
+"And now you have only to hide in that grass and wait until it is
+almost dawn," they heard him whisper through the wire. "Always just
+before the dawn they start up all their engines to remove the chill of
+the night. The nearest plane cannot be more than seventy yards from
+where you are, now. Wait until the mechanics have started the planes and
+walked away to let them warm up. Then dash for the nearest plane. The
+swift fighters are hangared on this side of the field, so you need not
+worry about having to steal a huge bomber. And so, I leave you now."
+
+The old man's voice faltered for a moment; then he got control of his
+emotions.
+
+"May God fly with you, my brave friends," he whispered. "It rests with
+you, now. I must return to my boat and get back across the river before
+it is light."
+
+"I wish you could go with us, sir," Dave whispered.
+
+"No, although I thank you for the kind thought," Pierre Deschaud
+whispered. "However, my place is here in Belgium. Here I must stay until
+I die, fighting as best I can for the liberation of my country. And so,
+farewell, my courageous friends. May God fly with you!"
+
+Dave blinked to drive away the tears that filled his eyes. When he
+opened his eyes again, there was nothing but darkness beyond the charged
+wire. Pierre Deschaud had gone back to his boat. Dave felt Freddy's hand
+groping for his. He gripped it and squeezed hard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEEN
+
+_Wings Of The R.A.F._
+
+
+When the new dawn was but a faint streak low down in the east, the sound
+of a hundred airplane engines being kicked into life suddenly shattered
+the stillness of the surrounding countryside. The two boys lying flat on
+their stomachs side by side started violently, then looked at each other
+and grinned.
+
+"This is almost it!" Dave whispered. "Let's start worming closer. We've
+got to grab a ship before anybody else gets in the air. Here in the
+grass, we could easily be spotted from the air."
+
+"You're right!" Freddy whispered back. "And I'm sure whoever saw your
+uniform and my suit would jolly well land at once to find out what was
+what. Right-o. Forward we go."
+
+Like two human snakes, the boys wiggled forward through the tall grass
+until they were but a few feet from the edge of the close cut, level
+flying field. Through the grass ahead they could see the row of
+Messerschmitt One-Nines, and One-Tens. And as luck would have it, a
+Messerschmitt One-Ten was the ship nearest them. It was not more than
+thirty yards away at the most. Dave nudged Freddy and pointed.
+
+"Just what the doctor ordered!" he breathed. "A One-Ten with plenty of
+room for two. Hot dog! Hoped I'd get a crack at flying a One-Ten some
+day. Or do you want to do the flying?"
+
+Freddy smiled and shook his head and touched the pocket of his jacket
+where he kept Pierre Deschaud's detailed report of the Nazi invasion
+plans.
+
+"The least I can do in return," he said. "Besides, you spoke first.
+Look! The mechanics have checked the instruments, and are walking away!"
+
+It was true. Mechanics were climbing down out of cockpits and walking
+along down the tarmac in groups. In a moment or so there wasn't a
+single man within seventy-five yards of the first Messerschmitt in the
+line. Dave gripped Freddy's arm, tried to speak, but couldn't get the
+words out of his throat for a second. Then they came in a muted rush.
+
+"Okay! Let's go! Luck to us both, fellow!"
+
+Quick as a flash, they shot up out of the grass and started running with
+every ounce of driving power in their legs. It was only some thirty
+yards to that One-Ten, but Dave felt as though he weren't covering more
+than a couple of inches of ground with every stride. A thousand
+torturing thoughts whipped through his brain, and with every stride he
+expected to hear the yammer and chatter of many machine guns blazing
+away at him.
+
+Not a single shot was fired, though. And not a single voice cried out in
+wild alarm, as he reached the tail of the plane and dashed around it
+toward the long three-man cockpit. Then suddenly a German mechanic
+seemed to rise right up out of the ground. Obviously he had been making
+some delayed check on the plane and was only just starting to join his
+comrades down at the other end of the tarmac. As he saw Dave, blank
+amazement flashed across his moon-shaped face. Then his eyes seemed to
+crackle out fire, and his mouth flew open.
+
+Decision and action were one with Dave Dawson. He dived forward the last
+step and lashed out his right fist, putting every ounce of his strength
+in the blow. Perhaps the mechanic tried to duck, but at any rate he
+didn't do it in time. Dave's driving fist caught him flush on the jaw.
+His head snapped back, his feet left the ground, and he did a beautiful
+backward somersault to crash down on the tarmac in a heap. Before the
+German had even hit, Dave was in the pilot's pit, reaching for the
+control stick and throttles.
+
+He kicked off the wheel brakes with his foot and jerked his head around.
+Freddy was already in and grinning from ear to ear.
+
+"The beggar will sleep for a week!" he cried. "Right-o! Give her the
+gun!"
+
+As though Freddy's voice was some kind of a signal to the Germans about
+the field, shots suddenly rang out, and the air shivered with shouting
+angry voices. Dave shoved the throttles forward and the twin 1,150 hp.
+Daimler-Benz engines thundered up in a mighty song of power. The plane
+quivered and bucked for an instant, and then charged straight out across
+the dawn light-shadowed field. Machine guns and rifles were now
+cracking and banging away on all sides, and countless metallic wasps of
+death were hissing past the plane as it rocketed forward.
+
+An instant later he heard the Messerschmitt's rear guns rattling away,
+and Freddy's wild shouts and bellows as he sprayed the Germans swarming
+across the field. Dave grinned, tight-lipped, eased back on the stick
+and lifted the One-Ten clear of the ground and upward toward the dawn
+sky.
+
+"R.A.F. coming up!" he shouted, and jerked his head around for a second.
+
+Freddy was still drilling away with his swivel gun in the rear cockpit
+and yelling at the top of his voice. Dave turned front, leveled off the
+climb and banked around toward the west and the English Channel. His
+heart sang a wild song of joy as the swift Messerschmitt One-Ten ripped
+along through the air. Victory was in sight, now. Death and danger had
+been defeated. In half an hour they would be over the English Channel.
+Another forty minutes or so and they would be well over English soil.
+Back to England! Back to England with complete information about the
+coming Nazi drive. Names, dates, places--everything that the Nazis
+planned. The number of troops to be used, the list of ports where
+invasion barges now waited to be sent out toward England under the cover
+of darkness. Everything! The whole works! And now the British could--
+
+Dave didn't finish the thought. At that moment Freddy's fist banged down
+on his shoulder, and the English youth's voice shouted excitedly in his
+ear.
+
+"To the right and up, Dave!" Freddy yelled. "Take a look! A swarm of
+Nazi planes trying to cut us off. The beggars back there must have
+radioed to units already in the air, telling them about us swiping a
+plane. Get everything you can out of this blasted bus!"
+
+"And you get back to your guns!" Dave shouted, as he found the flock of
+some twenty-five or thirty dots high up to his left. "We're going to
+have trouble! Those birds have the altitude, and they can get the speed
+to cut in front of us by diving. Get set, Freddy! The final lap!"
+
+Even as the last left Dave's lips, he saw the group of dots wheel toward
+the east and then go slanting downward. Impulsively he jammed his free
+hand against the already wide open throttles, as though he might be
+able to get additional revolutions of the thundering Daimler-Benz
+engines. And although he didn't have more than three thousand feet under
+his wings, he slanted his own nose down slightly to gain what extra
+speed he could.
+
+His prophecy came true, however, regardless of his frantic efforts to
+skip away and out-fly that cluster of Nazi planes. Their diving speed
+was plenty for them to outstrip the One-Ten in the mad race for the
+Channel. And when Dave and Freddy roared out from the shore, the dots
+had changed into deadly Messerschmitt single seater One-Nine fighter
+planes. And they were now charging in at breakneck speed, their guns
+chattering out a mad song of hate and destruction.
+
+Body braced, Dave kept the One-Ten tearing straight at the leading
+German plane, and pressed the gun button on the top of his joy stick.
+The four 7.9-mm. machine guns mounted in the nose of the One-Ten spat
+flame and sound. The plane rushing in seemed to crash up against an
+invisible brick wall. It went cartwheeling crazily off to the side, and
+then curved over and down into the Channel.
+
+"Good lad!" came Freddy's voice faintly above the roar of the engines.
+
+A split second later Freddy emphasized his words with the chatter of his
+rear gun. Out of the corner of his eye Dave saw a One-Nine swerve
+crazily and crash straight into another German ship before its pilot
+could pull out of the way. The two ships fell downward, leaving behind a
+long column of smoke and flame. Dave shouted words of praise, sliced
+past yet another One-Nine charging in and then hauled back on the stick.
+The One-Ten power zoomed wildly toward the sky.
+
+The maneuver, however, was not so successful as Dave had hoped. There
+were more Messerschmitts up there, and they opened up with a withering
+fire. He kicked rudder and almost went into a complete "black-out" as
+the terrific turning force seemed to roll his eyeballs back into his
+brain. He straightened out slightly, slammed down in a quick dive and
+caught a One-Nine cold in his sights. He pressed the gun button on the
+stick, and German machine gun bullets put another German out of the war.
+
+For every German those two boys dropped out of the sky, however, three
+more seemed to come streaking out of nowhere. They were all around the
+One-Ten, underneath it and above. Time ceased for Dave Dawson. Time
+stood still. He became a part of the plane he flew--a sort of mechanical
+pilot who had no time to think or consider the next move. Every touch of
+the stick or rudder was both instinctive and automatic. There was smoke
+and flame and hissing bullets all about him. White pain ripped into his
+side, but he hardly felt it. His One-Ten shook and shivered as burst
+after burst ripped into it. His heart was cold and his brain was frozen
+with the realization that it could not go on forever. The One-Ten was
+being constantly raked from prop to tail.
+
+Then, suddenly, it happened!
+
+A long burst crashed into his port engine. It coughed and sputtered and
+then passed out completely. Smoke belched out for an instant but there
+were no licking tongues of flame. It was the end, nevertheless. With
+only one engine Dave couldn't possibly hope to get away from the swarm
+of Messerschmitt One-Nines wheeling and darting about them. And in that
+horrible moment of realization he realized also that neither he nor
+Freddy wore parachutes.
+
+He jerked his head around to yell at Freddy to hang on tight, but the
+words never left his lips. Rather, a cry of wild alarm came out instead.
+Freddy was slumped forward over his swivel gun. His eyes were closed,
+and there was blood trickling down from an ugly bullet crease along the
+left temple.
+
+Dave took one quick glance, then jerked his head forward and shoved hard
+on the stick. The nose dropped, and the single engine started to haul
+the plane downward in a terrific dive. It took every ounce of Dave's
+strength on the left rudder to compensate for the useless port engine.
+With only one engine going, the plane fought savagely to veer off to the
+right and into a spin. But Dave somehow held it steady and went
+rocketing down through the swarm of One-Nines before their pilots
+realized what was happening.
+
+And then, as he suddenly cast his gaze downward and to the north, his
+heart almost burst with joy. Cleaving the water southward was a British
+destroyer. Black smoke lay back over her aft deck, indicating her speed.
+And Dave could tell from the countless tongues of flame leaping up from
+her decks that her anti-aircraft "Pom-Pom" guns were blasting away at
+the sky full of German planes.
+
+"Hold on, Freddy!" Dave got out through clenched teeth. "Don't die on
+me, pal. Everything's going to be jake. They haven't licked us by a darn
+sight. There's a destroyer down there, Freddy, a British destroyer. I'll
+crash in her path and make her pick us up. Hang onto everything, Freddy,
+old pal!"
+
+Twenty seconds later Dave flopped the crippled One-Ten down into the
+waters of the English Channel. The jar flung him hard against the
+instrument panel, and for a brief moment all the stars in the heavens
+swirled and spun around in his brain. The instant his vision cleared, he
+stood up on the seat and waved both arms wildly at the destroyer rushing
+toward him. The Messerschmitt One-Nines tried to drop down and machine
+gun him murderously, but the destroyer's Pom-Poms kept them at a
+respectful altitude.
+
+The destroyer swerved slightly and cut her speed down. In a few moments
+she had worked up close to the floating plane. Sailors on the low decks
+threw Dave a line. He caught hold of it somehow and made the end fast to
+the cowling brace. As the Pom-Poms continued to bark, the sailors
+pulled the plane close. Dave motioned one of them to jump down, and
+scrambled back to Freddy. Tears of joyful relief burned Dave's eyes when
+he found out that Freddy was still breathing. Two sailors took charge
+and hoisted Freddy aboard. White pain stabbed Dave's side as he
+scrambled aboard in turn, and he would have toppled over backwards if a
+sailor had not caught his arm.
+
+"Easy does it, Fritz!" the sailor said.
+
+"Fritz, nothing!" Dave gasped as the pain in his side started leaping up
+into his chest. "R.A.F. Where's your commander? I've got to see the
+commander at once! Get me the commander at once!"
+
+A white blur appeared in front of Dave, and a voice said:
+
+"I'm the commander of this craft! What's this all about?"
+
+Dave clenched his teeth, staggered over to the two sailors who held
+Freddy, and took the plan paper from out of Freddy's pocket. He reeled
+back across the deck and grabbed hold of the railing for support. There
+was a thunderous roaring in his head, and red hot knives were cutting
+his body to pieces. He raised haze-filmed eyes to the destroyer
+commander's face, and held out the folded sheet of dirty paper.
+
+"Think I'm about to pass out, so listen plenty close!" he said with a
+tremendous effort. "We're Pilot Officers Dawson and Farmer, R.A.F. Just
+escaped from Antwerp. Put into the nearest port. Radio Colonel Fraser to
+meet you. Reach Colonel Fraser at once. These are Nazi invasion plans.
+The--the whole works! Put--into nearest--port. Radio--Colonel
+Fraser--Chief--British Intelligence. Important--"
+
+Dave knew that he was falling down into a great big black hole, but he
+was too far gone to do anything about it.
+
+When he next opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed and all wrapped
+around by three or four miles of bandages. At the foot of the bed stood
+Air Vice-Marshal Saunders, Colonel Fraser, and a major in medical
+uniform. He stared at their smiling faces for a moment, then turned and
+looked at the next bed. Freddy Farmer had at least one mile of bandage
+wrapped about his head, but he was sitting up and grinning from ear to
+ear.
+
+"Going to sleep out the rest of the war, Dave?" he asked with a happy
+chuckle. "Man, is it good to see you come around! How do you feel?"
+
+"I don't know, yet," Dave heard himself say. Then a little light seemed
+to flash on in his head, and memory came racing back. He turned and
+looked at Colonel Fraser. "The invasion attempt!" he gasped. "The plans
+Pierre Deschaud gave us! What--"
+
+The Intelligence chief stopped him with a gesture of his hand and
+stepped around to the side of the bed.
+
+"Everything's fine, my boy," he said in a soothing voice. "You just
+relax, and take it easy. You stopped a couple of bullets, you know. Take
+it easy and get your strength back."
+
+"But the invasion attempt?" Dave insisted.
+
+"Thanks to you two, there wasn't any," Colonel Fraser said with a smile.
+"We beat them to it and blasted the tar out of their invasion bases. Too
+bad you couldn't have seen it. Your pals shot down one hundred and
+eighty-five planes on the fifteenth. That was two days ago, by the way.
+It was a new R.A.F. record for a single day's bag of Goering's chaps.
+And that night the bombers made a mess of the invasion attempt, but
+before it was even attempted. So you see, there really wasn't any
+invasion attempt."
+
+"But Hitler has jolly well been taught a thing or two," Air Vice-Marshal
+Saunders spoke up. "And it'll be a while before he thinks about trying
+it a second time. As the Colonel said: Thanks to you two lads, we beat
+them to it, and gave them a very bad trimming into the bargain, too. And
+it will help you to get back to active duty sooner, let me say that
+there'll be a decoration for you two for the wonderful job you've done."
+
+Dave looked at Freddy, and as their eyes met an understanding passed
+between them. The smile on Freddy's lips faded, and he shook his head.
+
+"You tell them why not, Dave," Freddy said.
+
+"Eh?" Air Vice-Marshal Saunders grunted. "What's that?"
+
+"We'd rather not be given decorations, sir," Dave said quietly. "The man
+who should get it, and really deserves it, is not here. He's Pierre
+Deschaud. He was the man who did the tough job, and--well, Freddy and I
+were just sort of messenger boys, you might say. Right, Freddy?"
+
+"Absolutely!" Freddy said. "Satisfaction that we helped pull off the job
+is decoration enough for us."
+
+Air Vice-Marshal Saunders looked at Colonel Fraser and smiled.
+
+"I ask you," he murmured, "what chance has old Adolf got when he's up
+against chaps like these two?"
+
+
+The End
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_DAVE DAWSON
+
+WAR ADVENTURE BOOKS_
+
+Here are some of the exciting, up-to-the-minute, true-to-fact adventures
+of American Dave Dawson and his English friend Freddy Farmer.
+
+In various volumes, the boys get into the war at Dunkirk! They are
+dropped into Belgium by parachute! They scout the Libyan desert! They
+foil an Axis submarine wolf-pack! They destroy a mysterious Nazi weapon!
+They pose as Gestapo agents in Singapore! They ferret out Axis spies
+operating in the Pacific! They balk a plot to blast the Panama Canal to
+bits! They are Commandos and kidnap two German High Command officers!
+
+READ about these high-flying, clean-living, hard-fighting boys!
+
+    ASK your dealer for
+    DAVE DAWSON
+    WAR ADVENTURE BOOKS
+
+    _THE
+    SAALFIELD PUBLISHING
+    COMPANY_
+
+    _Akron, Ohio_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE AUTHOR
+
+
+R. Sidney Bowen, the youngest member of the Royal Flying Corps and the
+R.A.F. in World War I, was born in Boston and went to school there. He
+left high school to drive an ambulance for the French Army, but was soon
+sent home because he was under age. He lied about his age and enlisted
+in the R. F. C. The famous Vernon Castle was his instructor. Back in
+France as a scout pilot, he shot down a number of German planes and
+balloons. During and after the War, he saw service in England, France,
+Belgium, Germany, Italy, Egypt, India, and British Somaliland.
+
+Then he became a newspaperman, test pilot, editor of an aviation
+magazine, and finally a famous writer of flying, sport, and action
+stories.
+
+He holds the World's Schoolboy Record for the 1000-yard run.
+
+He has 2675 flying hours in his logbook.
+
+He is an expert in aviation, technical, and military matters.
+
+
+_DAVE DAWSON WAR ADVENTURE BOOKS_
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Dave Dawson with the R.A.F, by R. Sidney Bowen
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41715 ***