Dave Dawson at Dunkirk Part 22

Suddenly the shrill whistle of the engine cut through all other sound. A moment later the angry roar from hundreds of throats told Dave and Freddy that the train was moving. They stopped trying to push forward, and simply stood there listening to the angry shouting of the troops who could not get aboard, and the sound of the train as it picked up speed and went racing off toward the east.

"Here they are! Everybody scatter!"

Perhaps it was the same fog horn voice, and perhaps it wasn't. Anyway, everybody heard the command and started moving. A moment later the air became filled with the howl of diving wings. Further orders were not necessary. In a flash Dave thought of the bomb blasted bridge. The road had once dipped down under it, but now it was no more than a cave made out of jagged chunks of stone with twisted steel rails and splintered ties for roof shingling. He grabbed Freddy by the arm and spun them both around.

"That busted bridge!" he shouted in his friend's ear. "We can crawl down under it. We should be safe."

"Just thinking of that, myself!" Freddy shouted back as they both broke into a run. "Those blasted Stukas! Will we never hear the last of them!"

As though to punctuate that sentence the leading bomber swooped low, dumped its load and went screaming up into the night sky. Its bomb struck a hundred yards away but the concussion seemed to lift both of the boys off their feet. It put wings on their feet as well. They dashed madly through the roaring darkness, missed turned-over trucks and hunks of the bombed station by inches, and finally scrambled down under the bridge and into the cave-like hole blown out of one of the supporting walls. They crawled back over the broken stones as far as they could and sat huddled together listening to the world blow apart over their heads.

"Well, at least we got our load of wounded aboard!" Dave shouted as there came a lull in the bedlam of thunderous sound. "That's something, I guess."

"Yes, we didn't let them down," Freddy's voice came faintly. "Phew, but I'm tired. Stukas or no Stukas, I don't think I can keep awake another minute."

The words seemed to touch something inside Dave. He too became suddenly listless in both mind and body. He felt Freddy sagged against him and he battled to keep his eyes open; to keep a look-out in case they might have to change their place of shelter. But ton weights hung on his eye lids, and it was impossible to keep them open any longer. Above them worlds exploded sound and flame. Underneath them worlds shook and trembled as each devastating blow was struck. None of it, however, reached the two boys. Young strong bodies had taken an awful beating for hours on end, and they needed rest. Time might cease, and the world could come to an end, but it would have no effect on Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer, for they were both sound asleep.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

_Thunder In The West_

The cold, clammy air of early dawn finally pried Dave's eye lids open and brought him back to the conscious world. For a moment he stared dully at the ma.s.s of grey shadows all around him. Then gradually he realized that the shadows, most of them, were rocks and huge chunks of cement, and that light was filtering down through cracks and holes between them. That realization brought back memory of where he was. Then swiftly followed recollection of all that had happened and why he was there. He started to get to his feet, and his movements awakened Freddy Farmer slumped against him. The English youth groaned, opened his eyes and stared blankly around for a moment. Then they cleared as fragments of memory came racing back to him, too. He sat up and gingerly flexed his arms and legs.

"Gee, it's morning!" he exclaimed.

"And the Stukas have gone, thank goodness," Dave said. "Lets get out of here. Maybe the train's back and we can get aboard it this time. Gosh!

I'm stiff as a board."

"I can hardly move!" Freddy moaned and got slowly to his feet. "Man, I never thought a chap could fall asleep while bombs were falling. My father told me that he once slept through a ten hour bombardment in front of Amiens, in Nineteen Seventeen. I aways thought he was pulling my leg, but now blessed if I don't believe him. I say, what's that?"

Dave c.o.c.ked his head and listened to the sudden strange sound.

"Troops marching!" he breathed. "That's what it is. Troops marching. The train must be back. Come on, Freddy!"

Dave scrambled forward and started crawling up out of the cave and between the rocks to firm ground. He suddenly stopped short as he glanced through a crack that gave him a clear view of the road that ran along in back of the bomb shattered station. His heart leaped up into his throat, and for a second or two he couldn't utter a word. Freddy, scrambling up behind, b.u.mped into him and started an exclamation. Dave whirled and put a silencing hand to his lips.

"Pipe down!" he hissed. "Freddy! For gosh sakes, take a look through that crack. Gee! What do you know about that?"

The English youth squirmed past him and peered out through the crack.

His young body stiffened, and there was the sharp sound of sucking air into his lungs. He turned around and stared wide eyed at Dave and licked his lower lip.

"Germans!" he whispered. "The beggars are all over the place. We've been left behind, Dave. Our boys must have moved on when the Stukas went away. But we were asleep."

"Yeah, I guess that was it," Dave said and nodded. "Holy smokes, Freddy, what shall we do?"

"I don't know, except to stay where we are," the English youth replied in a tight voice. "If we show our heads they're sure to grab us. There must be thousands of them!"

"Millions, it looks like!" Dave said with a gulp. "Yes, the best thing to do is stay right here and hope they don't find us. Maybe they'll move off after awhile, then we can beat it. Gosh! I had all I want of a being a German prisoner. Sure, let's stay right here."

"At least we won't starve, no matter how long they take marching through," Freddy said. "We both have plenty of chocolate bars we got at the hospital. And I didn't have to give any of the water in my canteen to the wounded I carried. Did you?"

"Not a drop, it's full," Dave said, and patted the canteen at the end of the strap hooked over his shoulder. "You're right, we won't go hungry or thirsty. But gosh, I hope they don't stick around too long, or we'll never get out of this place. Maybe we were crazy to duck in here, huh?"

"And maybe we would have been crazier to have gone some place else,"

Freddy murmured and pulled a bar of chocolate from his pocket. "At least no bombs. .h.i.t us here."

"That's right," Dave agreed. Then with a stiff grin, "And it's a cinch that none are going to hit us, either, while those Germans are out there. But I sure hope all those British troops got away. I guess they did, though, or we'd hear fighting right now. Gee! Can you beat it?"

"Beat what?" Freddy asked through a mouthful of crunched chocolate bar.

"What's the matter?"

"I was just thinking, and maybe it isn't so funny," Dave said. "We sort of started all this business behind the German lines, and here we are again. I sure hope we don't end it that way! Wonder how long we'll have to wait? Until it's dark, I guess."

Freddy didn't answer. He crawled up the stones and peered through the crack again. When he came down his dust and dirt smeared face looked most unhappy.

"Until it's dark, at least," he said with a sad shake of his head. "And more war music, too. I just saw them wheeling some guns into position in back of the railroad station. Yes, I'm afraid the blasted beggars are planning to stay here a bit, too."

"Well, when it gets dark we get out of here," Dave said grimly. "Guns or no guns."

"You bet," Freddy said and fell silent.

As though their silence was a signal to the gunners above, the earth and the sky once more began to shake and tremble as the gun muzzles belched out their sheets of flame and steel-clad missiles of death and destruction that went screaming far off to the east. To get away from the shuddering, hammering pounding as much as possible, the two boys crawled far back into the wall cave and tried to make themselves comfortable.

Seconds clicked by to add up to minutes, and minutes ticked by to add up to an hour. Then eventually it was two hours, then three, then four. And still the guns hammered and snarled and pounded away at their distant objectives. It seemed as though it would never end. Try as they did to steel themselves against the perpetual thunder, and the constant shaking and heaving of the earth under them, it was right there with them every second of the time. Their eardrums ached, and seemed ready to snap apart. They tore off little pieces of their shirts and used them as plugs to stuff in their ears. That helped some, but it made speech between them impossible.

Roaring, barking thunder all morning, and all afternoon. But along toward evening it died down considerably. And when the shadows of night started creeping up it ceased altogether. The two boys crawled forward and up the bomb-made rock steps and peered through the crack between the stones. The hopes that had been born in them when the guns stopped seemed to explode in their brains. The guns were not being hooked onto the tractors. Nor were the swarms of troops climbing into the long lines of motorized Panzer trucks. On the contrary, mess wagons were being rolled forward, and flare lights were being set about all over the place. Even as Dave and Freddy crouched there watching with sinking spirits two flare lights sputtered into being directly above their heads. With sudden terror gripping their hearts they scuttled back deep into their hiding place.

"No soap, I guess," Dave said bitterly. "We'd stick out like a couple of sore thumbs. What do you think, Freddy?"

"The same as you," the English youth said unhappily. "We'd be fools to budge an inch. I most certainly wish we had blankets. These are the hardest rocks I ever felt."

"You said it," Dave muttered and ran his hand over the hard surface that was unquestionably going to serve as his bed for another night of terror. "Maybe, though, they'll pull out before dawn. Or maybe in the morning, for sure."

If the G.o.ds of war heard Dave Dawson's words they must have laughed loud and with fiendish glee, for they knew how false his hopes were. The Germans did not leave during the night. Nor did they leave in the morning. As soon as it was dawn they started their devastating bombardment again. And for another whole day the boys huddled together in their hiding place and struggled with every bit of their will power to stop from going stark, raving mad from the thunder of the guns.

Then, suddenly, when there was still an hour of daylight left, the guns went silent for keeps, and instead there were all kinds of sounds of feverish activity. Harsh orders flew thick and fast. Men shouted and cursed. Tractor engines roared into life. Truck transport gears were meshed in nerve rasping grinding sound, and as the boys watched through their look-out crack they saw the Germans move slowly off down a road leading toward the southwest. Neither of them spoke until the last truck had pa.s.sed out of view. And by then it was pitch dark, save for a shimmering red glow to the east and to the south.

"Boy, I thought it would never happen!" Dave said in a shaky voice.

"Come on! Let's get going before others arrive here. Which way do you think we'd better head?"

"The railroad track, I think," Freddy said after a moment of silence.

"It must have been blown all to bits by those Stukas, or else there would have been a train come up to take those Germans away. Instead, though, they headed down the road to the southwest."

"Check," Dave said. "And that track is supposed to lead to Dunkirk.

Gosh, I hope the British are still there."