CHAPTER FOURTEEN
_Satan's Calling Card_
Closer, closer came the footsteps! They seemed to be mysteriouslysynchronized with Dave's beating heart. One beat, one footstep. Onebeat, one footstep. Another, and another. Dave stabbed with his eyes atthe gloom, but he couldn't see a single moving shadow; couldn't see asingle moving thing, even though there seemed to be a sort of pale glowall about from the reflection of raging fires, and exploding ammo dumpsup Rouen way to the north. But he couldn't see a thing, and hisstraining eyes began to smart and water.
Then, suddenly, he felt Freddy Farmer stiffen rigid at his side. And hefelt Freddy's steel-like fingers close over his own hand and press hard.And then Dave saw it, himself. Saw the faint outline of a Germaninfantryman walking along the road. He wore a battle helmet, and crookedin his right arm was one of the deadly Nazi sub-machine guns. Jones?The word question streaked across Dave's brain and returned to thecenter to whirl like a top. Jones, or a real German soldier? There wasonly one way really and truly to find out.
Dave hesitated, then pressed his lips to Freddy's near ear.
"This is us!" he breathed. "Let's find out."
The English youth didn't make any reply. He simply rose silently withDave, and together they stepped out of the darker shadows cast by thechurch rubble and approached the figure in Nazi uniform. They werepractically in front of the man before they stopped, and Dave spoke thecode words in flawless German.
"Tell me the time, my watch is broken."
The figure in German uniform stopped short and gulped in surprise.
"The time?" echoed a thick, heavy voice. "I do not know. I--"
The voice stopped, and in the next split second Dave swore he could feelevery hair on his head turn grey. The man in German uniform snapped onthe beam of a tiny flashlight he had taken from his pocket, and the beamhit Dave squarely in the middle of his _still blacked out face_!
For an eternity, it seemed, Dave stood rooted to the spot, unable tomove a muscle. He knew that he and Freddy had made a fatal mistake byforgetting to remove the cork black from their faces. He knew that thisman was not Jones. He was a real Nazi soldier. And Dave knew also thatin the next split second the German was going to wake up the wholecountryside with his wild yells, and the savage yammer of thesub-machine gun in his hands. He knew all that, yet he was powerless todo anything about it. It was as though he didn't have a nerve nor amuscle left in his body. He was just so much frozen bone and frozenblood. This was the end--and he couldn't do a darn thing to savehimself. He--
It was a streak of black lightning that he saw moving at his side. Justa streak of black lightning. It had to be, because nothing else couldpossibly move that fast. But it wasn't black lightning. It was FreddyFarmer's body streaking through the air. Freddy Farmer's body that hitinto the Nazi soldier with terrific force. The flashlight dropped to theroad and winked out. There was a stifled moan of intense pain, and thenthe thud of two bodies falling to the ground.
By then Dave had snapped out of his trance. He flung himself forward anddown. But he was simply in the way. Commando Freddy Farmer knew hisstuff, and there, stretched out on the dirt road, was positive proof.There was now one less German soldier to shoot a gun at Adolf Hitler'sbidding.
"Done for, Dave!" came Freddy's whisper. "Got him with his own knife,too. Horrible business, but couldn't be helped. Lend me a hand. We'dbetter drag him off the road, you know. Might be some more of thebeggars come along. And it would be embarrassing."
Admiration and pride rose up to choke in Dave's throat as he bent downand caught hold of the dead German's feet. What a man was Freddy Farmer!A whole doggone army in himself. If it hadn't been for Freddy'slightning action, they both would have been full of German bullets rightnow. Prisoners, at least. But while he had stood frozen and helpless asan old woman, Freddy Farmer had whirled into action. How many times didthis make that Freddy had saved their lives? One hundred? Or was it twohundred? Probably two hundred.
Together they carried the dead German back into the darker shadows ofthe church rubble, and dumped him down on the ground. Then, by silentmutual agreement, they crouched down beside each other, Dave to try andget his brain working again, and Freddy to get back some of hisstrength and wind.
"Remind me, Freddy," Dave said, and squeezed his pal's arm. "Remind meto love you for life and six days afterward. That topped anything I eversaw, pal. Thanks a million for keeping your head screwed on tight. Minewent completely haywire. Gosh! That was wonderful. Honest, Freddy!"
"Had to be done," the English youth murmured. "After all, you'd got ablighter earlier. Next turn was mine, so I took it."
"And how you did, thank God!" Dave said fervently. "I still can'trealize that I'm not full of slugs, or that a flock of Nazis aren't onour necks."
"Well, forget about it," Freddy murmured. "Both alive, and that's allthat counts. Point is, what the dickens do we do now? I've got ahorrible feeling, Dave."
"I've had it for several minutes," Dave groaned. "Something went wrongwith this Jones fellow. I have a feeling he's not going to show up."
"Man, will that make a mess!" the English youth muttered. "But perhapsif we wait a bit, and--I say, Dave? What's the matter?"
Dawson had suddenly jumped a little and then stiffened rigid. He hadput his hands on the ground in back of him to make his arms serve asprops for the upper half of his body. But both of his hands had nottouched ground. His right hand had come down on a booted foot. And itwas not one of the booted feet of Freddy's dead German. He was dumpeddown behind some of the rubble a good five yards away.
Dave heard Freddy's excited question, but his own tongue was stuck fastagainst the roof of his mouth. His right hand still pressed down on thebooted foot in the darkness behind him. He knew, he could feel thatthere was a human foot inside the boot. And he also knew that the footand its owner were dead!
"Dave--?"
"Steady, Freddy!" he whispered. "Get set for another shock. My righthand's on the foot of a dead man. I'm sure of it. A Nazi boot. But--"
Dave had to stop and swallow hard before he could go on.
"But not a Nazi inside," he said with an effort. "I think Jones showedup, Freddy, but--but he isn't going to be of any help to us, pal. We'reright behind the eight ball. Right out on the limb, and somebody waitingto saw it off."
As a matter of fact, Dave wasn't conscious of whispering those words toFreddy. He spoke them without thinking as he slowly turned around andfelt with both hands to confirm the terrible belief in his brain. Freddyturned too. Their hands touched several times as they explored thestiffened body stretched out on the ground. But neither of them spoke.Neither of them dared to, for fear they wouldn't be able to controltheir tongues, and start screaming crazy things at the top of theirvoices.
Eventually, though, Dave thought he could trust his own tongue to saywhat they both knew, now.
"Jones," he got out. "It must be. A German uniform. Shot in the back.Uniform torn and ripped to shreds. The rats searched him for any secretidentification papers he might be carrying. Please God that they didn'tfind any!"
"Amen!" Freddy Farmer said in almost a sob. "Of course you're right,Dave. It must be Jones, poor devil. Wonder what happened? Wonder howthey managed to catch him? Blast this for a fine mess!"
"Another of this war's secrets that will probably never be known," Davesaid in a dull voice. "Why, and how, we'll never know, Freddy. But onething is sure, according to the way I look at it. The Nazis in this areaare wise to the fact that something is up. Jones dead, here. All thosepatrols we had to sneak around. Freddy! I've got a darned strong hunchthat this particular spot is the most unhealthy in all Occupied Francefor us. Maybe they didn't know that Jones was to contact somebody here,but--"
"But _we_ don't know _if_ they _do_ know!" Freddy finished the sentence.
"Right!" Dave whispered, and got up on one knee. "So, unless we want tobeg for it, let's get distance from this spot, and get it fast. You withme?"
"Quite!" Freddy m
urmured, and got quickly to his feet. "I say! How aboutmy beggar's machine gun? Think it would come in handy?"
"No, leave it," Dave replied. "Traveling fast, and light, is our bestbet. If we got cornered, the gun wouldn't be much help for long. No,leave the darn thing. But let's get out of here, and--"
The rest froze on the end of Dave's tongue. In that instant he heardsounds of running feet on the road. But the sounds were from more thanone pair of running feet. Freddy Farmer heard them, too. Not a word wasspoken. No time for words, now. Nor the need. Hands clasped for mutualguidance, the two youths melted across the dirt road to the other side,slid behind some bushes that bordered the road, and then stole forwardin a direction parallel to the approaching running feet. When therunning feet were almost abreast, the two youths froze stiff, and heldtheir collective breath. As near as they could tell, six Nazi soldierswent pounding past their place of concealment. They heard a few Germangrunts, but were unable to catch the words that were spoken. As soon asthe squad of Nazi troops had pounded by, the two youths struck off atright angles from the dirt road, and travelled swiftly and silentlynorthward until they reached the shelter of a thick woods. They sneakedin past the first fringe of trees, and sank to the soft ground fightingfor breath, and to ease off their pounding hearts.
For several minutes they simply lay there stretched out on the ground.Then, as though at some secret inner signal, they sat up and staredbrooding-eyed at the darkness about them. It was then that Dave partedhis lips to speak, but stopped as they heard the faint shouting of manyvoices coming from the direction of the shelled church.
"That cooks it!" he spoke aloud. "That shouting means they've comeacross your Nazi, I think, Freddy. They know now that somebody's aroundwho shouldn't be."
"No doubt about it!" the English youth agreed bitterly. "And it meansthat we'd better be getting going again. But, good grief, where? They'llbe crawling all over the place, now that they know something isdefinitely wrong. Oh, blast it, what a fine mess we've made of things! Ialmost wish my parachute hadn't opened. And to lose a perfectly goodSpitfire just for this! Enough to make a chap weep!"
Dave leaned over and pushed his fist against his pal's ribs.
"Cut it out, Freddy, old sock!" he growled. "None of that kind of talkfrom you. Not like you at all. We're not licked, kid, until Saint Peterswings wide the Pearly Gates and invites us in. Get that old chin up,pal!"
"It's up high enough, I fancy!" Freddy muttered. But with a heavy sigh,he added, "But it still makes me want to break down and weep. Shouldhave brought that sub-machine gun along after all. We could at leasttake some of the beggars along with us."
"Nuts to the patrolling Nazis!" Dave snapped. "We'll let them hunt forus until they're blue in the face. We've got things to do."
The English youth half turned and stared at him hard in the gloom.
"You haven't gone a little balmy, have you?" he demanded. "What have we_got_ to do, now? Jones is dead. He was to be our big link with the restof the business. What have we got to do now, save keep clear of thosesearching for us as long as we can? And it probably won't be any toolong, at that!"
"Boy, oh boy, are you sunk!" Dave said with a harsh chuckle. "Your Nazimust have clouted you one on the head that I didn't see. Sure we'regetting out of here. In fact, pal, you and I are going to a spot wherethose shouting bums over yonder wouldn't even think of looking for us,see?"
"No, I don't see," Freddy replied. "Just what are you driving at,anyway?"
"The middle of the enemy's camp, of course!" Dave threw at him. "Sneezeaway those brain cobwebs, pal. The H.Q. of von Staube and von Gault,naturally! Aren't they the two birds we came over here to collect, huh?"
Freddy Farmer sat up straight, and even in the bad light Dave could seehis popping eyes.
"Good grief!" the English-born air ace choked out. "The H.Q. for vonStaube and von Gault, did you say?"
"You heard me!" Dave said firmly. "Look, Freddy. Figure it out. Jones isgone. We're on our own now. So what are we going to do? Let thesedarned Nazis chase us around Occupied France all night? Or head straightfor von Staube and von Gault, and--well, trust to luck that we'll get abreak somehow? Me, I'm for direct action, even if it does seem hopeless.Darned if I'm going to stumble around in this darkness a couple of stepsahead of a bunch of Nazis. Jones is gone. So that puts it squarely up tous. I say, let's give it a whirl. Heck, Freddy! That's the only thing we_can_ do! Right?"
"Of course you're right, Dave," Freddy said quietly. "Sorry I acted sucha fool just now. No doubt we're mad to think we can accomplish anything.But--well, as you say, let's give it a whirl."
"Atta boy!" Dave murmured, and squeezed Freddy's arm. "But for cat'ssake, let's first get this cork black off our faces and hands. It won'thelp us now. And when I think of that Nazi snapping that light in myface--Boy! I died a thousand deaths in that split second. That's enoughfor one night. We play strictly Jerry officers from now on. And Jerryofficers don't go wandering around with cork black all over them. Solet's get it off."
Five minutes later both youths had removed every trace of the cork blackwith their handkerchiefs and some water from the small canteen fittedto their German army belts. They stood up and studied Dave's compasswith its radium-painted needle.
"North and bear a bit left," Dave said, and slipped the compass into hispocket. "We're a good half mile from the shelled church. So we can't bemore than a mile from the edge of Evaux where the H.Q. is located. Well,I guess there's nothing to do but get started."
Dave Dawson with the Commandos Page 14
