Dave Dawson with the Commandos

by Robert Sidney Bowen

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  _Invisible Death_

  "All right, cut out enjoying yourself! There's the ground down theresome place. And it's coming up, fast. Pay attention to your knitting,pal!"

  Dave wasn't sure whether he had spoken the words aloud, or whether theyhad simply been spoken in his brain. Anyway, he stopped twisting hishead this way and that to admire the display of bursting colors highoverhead, and started peering down through the gloom in the direction ofthe ground. Just as he did that, though, there were two loud explosionsin rapid succession. They were to the south and above his altitude, andwhen he jerked his gaze up that way he saw two huge raging balls offlame arc out across the sky and down, leaving behind long tails ofwinking sparks.

  "Freddy's ship and mine, going up in smoke," he said softly. "Gee! Whata rotten end for such a swell pair of planes. Spitfire Mark Fives don'tgrow on trees, darn it! Too bad we couldn't have used a couple of cratesthat had seen their best days. Yet that might not have been so hot ifwe'd run into Nazi night fighters sooner. Well, that's how it goes. Restin peace, old gals!"

  With a half salute toward the blazing Spitfires falling earthward, andfollowed downward every inch of the way by a couple of dozen Nazisearchlights, Dave switched his gaze toward earth again, and twistedaround at the ends of his parachute shroud lines in order to pick outany faint landmarks that might be showing. It took him a couple ofseconds before he saw the big loop made by the Seine as it wound pastthe city of Rouen. When he saw it a happy smile came to his lips, and hefelt pleased all over. Unless a low wind caught him and did things withhis parachute envelope, he should land practically in the middle of theSeine's loop, the exact spot, where he was to make his rendezvous withFreddy Farmer.

  "Nice, very neat!" he grunted. Then with a little laugh, "But you knowdarn well, pal, that it's just bull luck. You didn't see that river loopwhen you stepped out, and you know it. But don't be dumb enough to admitthat to Freddy when you see him!"

  With a grin and a nod for emphasis, he started to bend his knees readyfor landing. The night shadow-filled ground was very close, now. As yet,though, the shadows weren't clear enough for him to make out just whatthey were. Trees, rocks, buildings, or even maybe the cluster of farmbarns where he was to contact Freddy again? And so he breathed a silentprayer that there were no trees directly under him, or at least thathe'd be able to see them in time. It would be nice, he didn't think, tofoul his 'chute on some top branches, and dangle there like a Christmastree ornament until daylight when some Nazis came by and cut him down,or shot him down! And it wouldn't be the first time that sort of thinghad happened, either!

  "So don't even think about it!" he growled at himself. And with one handstill hanging onto the bundled up German uniform, he reached up bothhands and grabbed hold of the shroud lines to ease some of his weightoff the harness straps and make the landing that much easier.

  Perhaps the gods were watching over him, or perhaps he was just plainlucky. At any rate, there were no trees under him, nor any big rocks,either, that could give him a nice case of twisted or broken ankle. Asa matter of fact, there was just a nice patch of fairly soft ground, andhe came to earth, and spilled the air out of his 'chute, without anytrouble at all.

  The instant he was on the ground, and had spilled air, he wiggled out ofthe harness, gathered up the 'chute and shoved it well out of sightunder some bushes.

  "Too bad they don't make these things so's you can use them to go onback up again," he murmured with a chuckle. "A parachute pickup! I mustgive that some thought when I get back to England, and have a littletime on my hands. I--"

  He cut the rest off short as part of what he had said came echoing backinto his brain. "When I get back to England!" A cold shiver rippled downhis spine, and his mouth went just a little bit dry at the thought. Herehe was in the middle of Occupied France, with nobody knows how many Nazibutchers quite eager to cut his throat from ear to ear if they shouldfind him. In Occupied France--on foot. His Spitfire was now just a heapof smouldering wreckage many miles away. When he got back to England?That would not come to pass until he had captured a Nazi plane and flownit across the Channel. Stealing a Nazi plane was his only avenue ofescape. It--

  He shook his head to drive away the bothersome thought.

  "So what?" he grated at himself. "Freddy's in the same boat. And whatyou hope to do, you did once before, didn't you? Well, stop snivelingand blubbering around. Just make this the second time, that's all!"[2]

  [Footnote 2: _Dave Dawson With The R.A.F._]

  All the time he had been carrying on the conversation with himself hehad been changing into the uniform of a Nazi _Ober-Leutnant_. To hissurprise and delighted satisfaction, he found that it fitted himperfectly. But when he gave that a second thought, why shouldn't it?Sure! Major Barber wasn't the kind of a man who did thingshop-skip-and-a-jump style. The Major, of course, had made sure that theuniform would fit.

  He stood up and moved around a bit, as though he were in front of amirror.

  "Nice, perfect!" he murmured. "Almost makes me _feel_ like a Nazi. Butnot quite, though. Not in the old head, anyway. Now to check a bit, andget started. Mustn't keep Freddy waiting--if he's okay."

  Turning slowly, he peered hard in all directions. The anti-aircraft firehad died down considerably, and not so many searchlight beams weresweeping back and forth across the sky. Still, there was enough light ofbattle toward the north to shed just a faint glow down on the ground. Hesaw that he was in the clearing of a small woods. Lucky for him to havedropped in so neatly. A glance at his compass gave him north, and aftermaking sure that everything he was leaving behind was well out of sightof chance German eyes, he started forward due north. Unless his rapidcalculations were all cockeyed, he had about half a mile to travelbefore he would reach the cluster of shell-battered farm barns.

  Here was a chance to put more of his Commando training into practice,and as he moved forward he made less noise than an Indian stalking game.Every step he took was more or less planned and considered ahead oftime. He didn't bump into any trees that loomed up out of the dark. Nordid he stumble blindly over stones and boulders, or go barging intobushes in his path. There was no way of telling whether German patrolswere about. That was one detail that Major Barber couldn't give him.From now on his life was in his own hands. What he did, and when he didit, was strictly up to him. And it was the same with Freddy Farmer.

  Freddy! The thought of his pal started his brain racing again. Where wasFreddy? How was he making out? Had he come down okay somewhere near, andwas he now making his own way toward the rendezvous point? Or--A coldchill slashed through Dave, and he refused to let himself finish thatthought. If anything should ever happen to Freddy Farmer, he vowed hewould spend the rest of his life hunting down Adolf Hitler to takepersonal vengeance out on the two-legged, mustached animal from anotherworld.

  "Listen!" Dave told himself. "Stop worrying about Freddy. If there isone lad who always keeps a date, no matter what, Freddy Farmer is thelad. Don't worry! That guy will get there, even if he has to slipthrough the whole darn German Army. Just worry about yourself. Just tendto your own knitting!"

  Taking what comfort he could from his own words, he kept on movingnorth, eyes stabbing at the darkness ahead, and ears half tuned to thedistant sounds of battle to the north. At the end of fifteen minutes hecame to the crest of a small ridge. He flattened himself on the top andpeered hard down the other slope. His heart did a little dance of joy,and he silently shook hands with himself. Down there, not more than acouple of hundred yards away, he could just see the dim outlines of theshell-blasted farm barns.

  For a couple of minutes he remained glued to the ground, searching forany possible lights, and straining his ears for any sound other than thesounds of battle far away from him. He saw no lights, however, and heheard no sounds. He got to his feet again, bent well forward and wentdown the far side of the slope with as much noise as though he were inhis bare feet and walking on a velvet carpet. At the end of sevenminutes by his
watch he was hugging the tilting side of the nearestshell-blasted barn, and straining his eyes and ears more than ever.

  Again he saw nothing, and heard nothing. But for three long minutes heforced himself to crouch motionless, crouch as motionless as a corpse.Then he started to purse his lips and let out the whistle of a nightloon, the signal he and Freddy had agreed upon. But before the firstnote could reach his lips he heard the low call coming to him throughthe darkness from off to his left. For a split second, his nerves hadbeen so tensed, it was all he could do to stop from letting out a wildyell of greeting.

  But he didn't, of course. Instead he turned left, started moving slowlyforward, and answered the loon call. Two, three more minutes ticked by,and then a little bit of the darkness seemed to move out toward him, andhe felt Freddy Farmer's hands on his arm. It was so perfect an approachby the English youth that Dave gulped and was violently startled inspite of the fact that he had known Freddy was close. The hand on hisarm tightened and he was pulled down onto the ground, or rather downinto a small crater left by one of the exploding shells that had wreckedthose farm barns earlier in the war.

  "What kept you, old thing?" asked the whispering voice in his ear. "Beenhere for hours, scared stiff something had happened to you. Did you runinto any Nazi patrols? There are some of the beggars about. One blighteralmost stepped on my hand. Could have finished him easy, but he had somepals along. You all right, Dave?"

  "Fit as a fiddle," Dave whispered back. "What do you mean, what kept me?I ran all the way! I didn't come across any Nazis, though. After this,better keep your hands in your pockets, pal. Well, let's have a look atthe time. Don't want to be late meeting Jones."

  As Dave breathed the last he slid back the little cover that fitted overthe radium dial of his wrist watch, and took a quick look at the time.It told him that they had forty-six minutes to cover the two miles tothe shelled church rubble where Jones was to meet them. He let Freddysee his watch, and then started to speak, but didn't as the Englishyouth pressed something into his hand.

  "A bit of burnt cork I brought along, Dave," the English air acewhispered. "I know we are wearing Jerry uniforms, but until we contactJones we'd better blackout ourselves a bit, don't you think? There aretoo many blasted Nazis patrolling around. Better that we don't let themsee us, even if we are dressed as Nazi officers. We can rub this stuffoff later, if we have to."

  "Check, and thoughtful boy!" Dave murmured, and started rubbing theblack stuff all over his face. "And look, Freddy, your seeing Nazipatrols starts me thinking. We both want to get through to contactJones, but at least one of us _must_ get through. You get what I mean?"

  "Quite," Freddy replied. "If we ran into trouble together, why, neitherof us might get out of it. Going separately, though, one of us wouldprobably get through to Jones. And if the other didn't show up-well,Jones would just have to team up with the chap who did. Correct?"

  "Right on the button," Dave said. "I'd sure like your company, pal. ButI think we'd better go it alone from here to that shelled church. Twomiles. Let's say we make one mile in twenty minutes. Forty miles to theruined church, and six minutes to play with, in case we have to. Okay.That's the way it will be. I guess we'd better get going now. Your faceall blacked out?"

  "Ready," Freddy breathed, and got to his feet. But he suddenly reachedout and touched Dave on the arm. "Just had a thought," he whispered."Might be a good idea for us to contact again halfway. There's an oldbit of railroad track just a mile from here. Remember seeing it markedon Major Barber's mosaic maps? What say we meet there again in twentyminutes, twenty-three minutes at the most. Think that would be a goodidea?"

  "Checks with me," Dave replied. "If we don't meet then, the one who doesreach the railroad will know more or less that the other fellow isprobably out of the picture for good. Okay, Freddy. I'll be seeing youin twenty minutes, twenty-three at the most. Don't go sticking that noseof yours into any trouble. We'll probably have plenty of that later on."

  "And see that you don't, either!" Freddy Farmer whispered right back athim. "I don't want to have to go back looking for you. And I'm afraid Iwould, you know. That's the trouble with liking a chap so much. Makesone do the barmiest things sometimes."

  Dave smiled in the darkness, groped for Freddy's hand, and pressed ithard.

  "That goes double for me, too, Freddy," he breathed. "But neither of usis going to have to go back looking for the other. We're going to meetin twenty minutes. So long. Be seeing you, pal."

  The two youths squeezed hands for one brief instant longer, then parted,and went melting off into the darkness in opposite directions.