Dave Dawson at Dunkirk

by Robert Sidney Bowen

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  _Escape!_

  Somewhere in the distance a church clock tolled the hour of ten. Daveabsently counted the strokes, and then slowly sat up on the army cot.All was pitch dark inside as well as outside. For a couple of minutes hesat perfectly still listening to the various sounds that came to himfaintly. He heard the guard outside in the hallway cough and then strikea match. He heard the muffled sounds of hobnailed boots marching alongin the street outside, and the clanking sound of tank and scout cartractor treads on the stones. Somewhere in the distance a whistle wasblown. He heard the occasional dull boom of heavy guns, or of bombsexploding. And once a flight of planes droned by high up in the nightsky.

  He held his breath and listened to all those various sounds. He listenedto another sound, too, A sound he could feel as well as hear. It was thepounding of his own heart. His chest ached from the pounding, and histhroat and mouth were bone dry from the excitement and the suspense.For almost five hours he and Freddy had remained stretched outmotionless on the cots. Every second had seemed like a minute, everyminute like an hour, and every hour like an eternity. A hundred times ithad been all he could do to restrain himself from leaping to his feetand shouting at the top of his voice. Anything to give release to thecharged emotion pent up within him.

  Four times the guard had opened the door and played the beam of hisflashlight on them. The first time Colonel Stohl had been with theguard, for Dave had heard the German officer's voice. He had mutteredsomething about "making them sing a different tune in the morning," andthen had gone clumping down the stairs.

  Five long hours, and now Dave couldn't stand the waiting any more. Everyfiber of his entire being screamed for action. He had waited long enoughto make their captors believe they were done in for the night. The guardhad taken another look at them only a couple of minutes ago. It would beawhile before he looked in again. It was now, or never. It had to be!

  He slipped silently off the cot and crept over to Freddy's cot. He heldone hand ready to clap it over the English boy's mouth in case he wokeup with a startled yell, and put his lips close to Freddy's ear.

  "Freddy, wake up!" he breathed, and shook the youth gently with hisother hand.

  "I'm awake, Dave," came the whispered reply. "Shall we try it now?"

  "Yes," Dave said. "The guard just took another look at us. He won'tagain for awhile. Have you been asleep?"

  "Not a wink, Dave. I couldn't, possibly. Look, Dave. You don't want tochange your mind and have a go at it alone? I'll understand. You mightget to an American Consul before they caught you. They'll come looking,you know."

  "That's out!" Dave hissed. "Pipe down! Take off your shoes. We can'trisk making a single sound. That guard may have big ears. Okay, Freddy,let's go!"

  Taking hold of the English youth's hand Dave led the way across the roomto the window. There he let go, and took out his spoon screw driver andwent to work on the one remaining screw. The instant it was out hestarted to pry out the frame with his fingers. It wouldn't budge. Hesucked air into his aching lungs and then worked the end of the spooninto the side crack and used it as a lever. The window still didn'tmove, and Dave's heart sank as he felt the spoon bending under his hand.He groaned softly.

  "The darn thing's stuck!" he whispered. "Swollen tight by the weather, Iguess. But.... Gee!"

  "What's the matter, Dave?" Freddy asked in a tight whisper.

  Dave fumbled for his arm in the darkness and pressed it reassuringly.

  "There's a nail, here at the bottom," he said. "I didn't see it, but Ican feel it, now. Am I dumb! Hold everything while I bend it down flat.It's a thin one. Then I think the window will slide over it."

  Two long minutes later Dave had the nail pressed flat on the base boardof the sill. Then he applied pressure with the spoon again, and thewindow began to move. His face was wet with nervous sweat, and his wholebody was trembling. He fought back his rising fear and nervousness andstuck doggedly to his task. Eventually he had worked the window outenough so that he could get his fingers under one corner. After that itwas simple. But, as he finally pulled the whole frame clear a corner ofit caught on a splintered sliver of the sill. The sliver snapped offwith a sound that was as loud as a pistol shot in Dave's ears. He frozestiff, ears straining for sounds of the guard in the hallway.

  There was no click of the bolt or rattling of the latch. The sliver ofwood snapping had not been heard. Dave slowly released the cramped airfrom his lungs and gently lowered the window frame down onto the floorand to the side where they would be sure not to hit it when they climbedout the window. Then he took hold of Freddy in the dark.

  "You first, because you're shorter, Freddy," he whispered. "I'll make afireman's step with my hands. Put your foot in it and I'll boost you up.But for Pete's sake, be careful. If we make any sound we're sunk. Okay,give me your foot."

  Dave crouched slightly and laced the fingers of his two hands togetherwith the palms facing upward to form a step. Freddy put one stockingedfoot on it, and one hand on Dave's shoulder to steady himself.

  "Okay," he whispered.

  Bracing his feet Dave slowly boosted the English youth up the wall. Assoon as Freddy had half his body through the open window he released thepressure of his foot on Dave's locked hands and squirmed the rest of theway up like a snake.

  "Get your feet out and then let yourself down by your hands," Davecautioned. "The roof shouldn't be more than a few inches under yourtoes. But, watch out. The darn thing slants down a bit, you know."

  "I'll make it, all right," Freddy said and twisted around on the sill sothat he was hanging on his stomach. "Can you make it alone, though?"

  "A cinch!" Dave whispered. "Don't wait for me. Sneak down the roof anddrop to the ground. I'll be right behind you. Go ahead, Freddy."

  Dave waited until he heard the soft thud of the English boy's feettouching the roof, then he grabbed hold of the sill with his hands andswiftly and silently hoisted his body upward. For a brief instant he satpoised on the sill grinning back into the darkened room. Then heswiveled over and lowered himself down. In almost no time he hadcat-crawled down the gently sloping roof to its lip. He pressed flat onhis stomach and stuck his head over the edge of the roof. Below him wasnothing but a sea of inky darkness. For some crazy reason a twinge ofpanic shot through him.

  "Freddy!" he whispered.

  "Here, Dave," came the welcomed reply. "I'm on the ground and to yourleft. It's all clear down here. The ground's soft. Come on down."

  "Here I come!" Dave said, and twisted over and let himself lightly downonto the ground.

  No sooner had his feet touched than Freddy had a hand on his arm.

  "Well, that's the first part!" the English youth breathed excitedly."Now, what's the next move?"

  "Our shoes," Dave said and pulled the other down onto the ground. "Thenwe head straight up that hill, there, and keep going north."

  "North?" Freddy said in a puzzled whisper. "Why not west toward theBelgian lines? We want to get there as fast as we can. I got a good lookat that map, Dave. I think this town, here, is called Estalle. And...."

  Freddy cut off his words and both boys froze back against the rear wallof the building as a shaft of yellow light suddenly cut the darkness ofnight. Dave's heart rose up to clog in his throat as he waited with fearin his heart for the shaft of light to sweep over to reveal them in itsglow.

  Then suddenly truth dawned and he was almost overcome with an insane,crazy desire to burst out with hysterical laughter. His taut nervestwanged like plucked fiddle strings and his whole body seemed to meltwith relief. A light had suddenly been turned on in the building againstwhich they crouched, and the shaft of light had simply been the insidelight flooding out through a rear window. When it didn't move where itstruck the bottom of the hill slope a dozen yards or so away Daverealized the truth. And so did Freddy a moment later.

  "Good grief, that scared me!" the English boy breathed.

  "We'll talk later," Dave said. "Right now we're making trac
ks away fromhere. Got your shoes on?"

  "Yes," Freddy replied. "You lead, Dave. I'll stick right at your heels.Mind your step, though."

  "You're telling me!" Dave grunted and started creeping along the rear ofthe building to the right.

  When he reached the corner he stopped and cautiously peered around it.Luck was with him. He had half expected to find himself looking down analley to the street out in front. But it wasn't an alley. It was just asmall court that connected with the next building. A high fence at thefront blocked off a view of the street. He couldn't see the street, butthe point was that when they started up the hill slope no passingsoldiers in the street could see them and give chase if for no otherreason than curiosity.

  "Stick close, Freddy!" Dave whispered over his shoulder. "First stop isthe top of the hill. Here we go!"

  Bent over low Dave turned sharp left and went scuttling across somethirty feet of bare ground, and then into the scrub brush that fringedthe base of the hill. Hands out in front of him to prevent bargingstraight into a tree, he started up the slope as fast as caution wouldpermit. By the time he was half way up his breath was coming in sobbinggasps, and his legs felt like two withered sticks that might snap in twoat most any second.

  He gritted his teeth and called upon every ounce of strength in hisstrong young body. It was mighty hard going. From the prison room windowthe hill slope had looked not at all steep, but now climbing up it inthe dark, dodging around tree trunks and jutting rocks, it seemed almostto rise right straight up in front of him. Every so often he halftwisted around to make sure Freddy was still with him. And each timethat was exactly the case. Freddy was right there at his heels, puffingand panting, but sticking like glue.

  The English youth's courage and stick-to-itiveness made Dave doggedlyrefuse to permit himself to rest even for a moment. Freddy wasn'tcomplaining, and if Freddy could take it then he could, too. Freddymight be younger, and a bit shorter, and weigh less, but there was nodifference in the quality of his fighting spirit, or of the courage inhis heart. And so Dave kept on climbing upward, and upward through theblack night until finally ... and it seemed as though a thousand yearshad passed by ... he finally reached the crest. He staggered along theflat crest for a few yards and then sank wearily down on the soft earth.Freddy dropped down beside him, and for a long time there was no soundbetween them save the sounds of their labored breathing.

  Eventually, Dave pushed himself up to a sitting position, wiped hisdripping face on the sleeve of his shirt, and let out a long sigh.

  "Gee, am I out of condition for track!" he breathed. "That was plentytough. I thought we'd never make it. You okay, Freddy?"

  The English youth groaned softly as he sat up.

  "I guess so," he murmured and sucked in great gulps of cool night air."But I certainly hope we don't have to do that often. You can't see verymuch from here, can you? I guess they're not taking chances on showingmany lights in case our bombers come over. I'd like very much to see abig bomb drop on that Colonel Stohl, though. He deserves one!"

  Dave chuckled and instantly felt much better. Freddy might be dead onhis feet, but he still had the old fight.

  "Two, one for me," he said and stared down at the town.

  In all there were not more than two dozen lights showing, and at leasthalf of them were the shaded lights of army cars and trucks moving alongthe one main street of the town. If there were others they were blottedout by the trees.

  "About that map, Freddy," Dave said presently in a low voice. "I thinkthis is Estalle, myself, but that's not much of a help. I mean, Icouldn't figure how far we are from the Belgian lines. I guess it can'tbe very far, though. They only started the invasion yesterday morning,so they can't have gone very deep into the country."

  "I don't agree with that, Dave," Freddy said. "The German blitzkrieg inPoland made as much as eighty and ninety miles in a day. Besides, myfather taught me a lot about marking army maps. Of course I don't knowwhat _all_ of those markings meant on the Colonel's map, but I'm prettysure those little yellow pins represented their advanced armoredscouting units."

  "But good gosh, they were as far west as Brussels and Charleroi!" Davegasped. "That's miles away. What about the Belgian frontier forts, andthe forts of Liege, and such big places? Wouldn't they hold them back?"

  "I don't know," Freddy said. "But I suspect the Germans are doing thesame thing they did in the Polish campaign. Their light fast mobileunits scoot right on past the heavily fortified centers and capturesmall positions in the rear. Then the bombers and the heavy attacktanks, and such, go at the big forts. It's as I heard my father sayshortly after the Polish invasion. You don't have trench warfare anymore. It's blitzkrieg nowadays. Lightning attack with small fast units,with the main body moving up behind and concentrating on main points ofdefense. And don't forget Hitler's air force, Dave. It cleared the wayfor him in Poland, and in Denmark, and Norway. They're probably doingthe same against the Belgians. At least until the British stop them. Andwe'll jolly well stop them, don't worry."

  "Gee, you talk like a regular military expert," Dave said in admiration."I guess your Dad taught you a lot. War certainly isn't what it used tobe, I guess. But, look, there were some blue pins on that map, andbeside each one was a date. I saw dates a week and two weeks from now.And there were blue pins all the way across Belgium to the EnglishChannel. I ... Holy smokes! It just struck me. The yellow pins showwhere the Germans are today, and the blue pins mark places they expectto capture on certain days! Could that be true, do you think?"

  "Yes, I do," Freddy said. "I'm pretty sure, Dave, that we've seensomething the Allied High Command would give a million pounds to see.Five million, or more! That was an Intelligence map of the whole Germanplan of invasion, Dave. I'm sure of it!"

  "My gosh, then let's get going!" Dave cried, and leaped to his feet."We've got to get through to Allied High Command, wherever it is. Wecan't show them the map, but between us we should be able to rememberenough about it to help them plenty. We...."

  A wild yell from down at the base of the hill, and three pistol shots inrapid succession, cut off Dave's words like a knife. He shot a quicklook down the hill and saw a cluster of lights suddenly spring intobeing. He wasn't sure but he felt pretty certain they were from thebuilding where he and Freddy had been held prisoners.

  A second later when more shots and more shouting drifted up to him, hewas sure. The guard had probably taken another look, and found out theyhad escaped. Now the alarm was being given. Bitter anger for wastingtime talking flashed through him and was gone. He reached down quicklyand pulled Freddy up onto his feet.

  "They've discovered our escape!" he cried. "We've got to start moving,and fast. Stick close to me. We'll still head north."

  "But why north?" Freddy protested. "We should go west if we want toreach the Belgian outposts as soon as possible, and get them to take usto Allied G.H.Q., Dave!"

  "No, north!" Dave said. "They'll guess we're trying to get to theBelgians, you see? So they'll start hunting toward the west, and sendingword ahead. If we go north we'll be fooling them for awhile ... I hope.Anyway, it's our best bet. See? There go a couple of their cars racingdown the road toward the west. Come on!"