CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
_Wings Of Doom_
"Hold it!" Dave heard his own voice cry out in the darkness. "We're notGermans!"
"No!" Freddy choked out. "We're English and American! Are we nearDunkirk?"
There was a startled exclamation in the rain and fog, then the tiny beamof a buglight caught them in its glow. The light shook and there was agasp of dumbfounded amazement.
"Strike me pink!" exclaimed the voice in back of the light. "What areyou two young nippers doing here? And where'd you come from?"
The buglight was lowered and the two boys saw the dim outline of aBritish Tommie. His gas mask and ration kit were slung over hisshoulder, and in his hands he carried a rifle with a wicked lookingbayonet.
"We're trying to reach Dunkirk," Freddy spoke up. "We've been hiding forthe last two days at a railway junction called, Niort, I think it was.Part of the sign had been blown away but I think that's what it was."
"Niort?" the British soldier gasped. "Come off it, now, me lad! If youwere at Niort how'd you get here? I suppose by a blinking train, eh?"
"No, we walked," Dave said. "Along what was left of the railroad. Wemissed the last train two nights ago. It pulled out when some Stukasarrived."
The British soldier whistled through his teeth, and flashed his buglighton them just to make sure he wasn't talking to a couple of ghosts.
"Well, can you beat that!" he ejaculated. "So you were left behind withthe others, eh? I was on that blinking train, thank my lucky stars! Thelads that were left had to march it all the way, and with Jerry throwingeverything he had at them, too. Strike me pink! You know what you twonippers have done?"
"Sure," Dave said. "Walked about a million miles, the way we feel."
"It's closer to eighteen or nineteen, lad," the Tommie said. "But thatain't the half of it. You've walked _right through_ the blessed Germanline, that's what you've done! Right through their blinking lines, andthem not knowing about it! By George, will I have a tale to tell thelads at the pub if I ever get back home!"
"But how far are we from Dunkirk?" Freddy asked. "And is there any wayto get there besides walking? I don't think I can go another step."
The soldier jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
"See them flames?" he said. "That's Dunkirk. About two miles it is. Andit's time for me to go in from my patrol anyway. I got a motor-bike andsidecar over there, yonder. You two can ride in the car. But we'd betterhop it. It's getting toward dawn and the Stukas will be coming over toraise merry Ned. But, wait a minute, mates. Who are you and what wereyou doing at Niort? Why, you ain't even in uniform."
"This is Dave Dawson, an American," Freddy said. "And my name is FreddyFarmer. We've been trying to get back to England for days, and...."
"_What's that?_" the soldier cut in excitedly. "Dawson and Farmer? Thecouple of American and English nippers, that stole a plane and all therest of it? Blimey! Why didn't you say so? Why you lads are heroes! Thewhole blinking army's been talking of what you nippers did. Come along!If there's two lads that's going to get a boat ride back home, it'syou. Yes, by George! I'm that anxious to get back home so's to tell thelads, I'm fair ready to swim the blinking Channel, orders or no orders.Come along!"
Without waiting for either of the boys to so much as open their mouthsthe soldier grabbed them each by the arm and hurried them off throughthe dark to the right. He must have known the way well, for they didn'tbump into a single thing. Presently he let go of them and dived intosome bushes. He was out in almost no time pushing an army motorcycle andsidecar. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and straddled the seat.
"Hop in, lads!" he barked as he kicked his engine into life. "And hangon for your lives. The beach where they're taking them off onto theships ... and man, they're bringing over anything that can float ... ison the far side of town. But the blinking town's afire, and we have togo right through it. Here we go, and a double-double to the blastedJerries!"
Though the two boys had wedged themselves down tight in the sidecar, thesoldier tore off in such a rush that he practically rode right out fromunder them. Yelling any complaints would have been just a waste ofbreath. Besides, the soldier wouldn't have heard them in the roar of hisengine. So the boys simply concentrated on trying to stay in thesidecar, and breathed a prayerful hope that the soldier was an expertdriver.
He was more than that. He was a miracle man on a motorcycle. He racedthrough the darkness without slackening his speed the fraction of amile. The rain slithered down and the street glistened in the faint glowof his dimmed light. It looked like so much slippery black ice, and ahundred times Dave closed his eyes and waited for the sickening crashthat never came. When, he dared open them again they were still hurtlingforward making as much noise as a whole division of tanks.
The two miles to the ancient Channel city of Dunkirk was covered in justabout as many minutes. In the last hundred yards the fog seemed to cometo an end, and the rain to pass on behind them. Dave looked ahead andcaught his breath sharply. Dunkirk looked like one gigantichorizon-to-horizon wall of licking tongues of flame and billowing smokethat towered high up into the sky. It was as though he had walked out ofa dark room straight into the open mouth of a blast furnace. Heimpulsively cast a quick side glance at the soldier astride themotorcycle seat expecting to see an expression of alarm and dismay passacross the lean unshaven face. But no such thing did he see. Thesoldier simply lowered his head a bit, and the corners of his eyestightened.
"Hang on, lads!" he bellowed without taking his eyes off the road. "Herecomes the first of it, and it ain't no ice box!"
No sooner had the last left his lips than the heat of the flamingbuildings seemed to charge forward right into their faces. Dave andFreddy ducked their heads as the soldier had done, and in the matter ofsplit seconds they had the sensation of hurtling straight across themouth of a boiling volcano that shot up tongues of flame on all sides.
"Lean to the right, we're turning that way!" came the soldier's yell.
They leaned together and the motorcycle and sidecar went careeningaround the corner of a street. It seemed to hesitate halfway around andstart to slide. But the driver skillfully checked the slide with avicious motion on the wheel, and they went roaring up a smoke filledstreet. A moment or two later the driver yelled for them to lean again.They did. In fact they did it no less than a dozen times during the nextfew minutes. And all the while the heat of the flames beat in at themfrom all sides, and the crash of falling walls, or of delayed actionbombs going off, was constant heart freezing thunder in their ears.
Then suddenly they shot right through the middle of one final wall offire and burst out onto a stretch of hard packed sand. It was severalseconds before the heat left them and they felt rain soaked salt airstrike against their faces. They gulped it into their lungs, and thenboth cried out in alarm as a squad of British soldiers seemed to riseright out of the sand in front of them. Their driver instantly stood upon his foot plates and roared above the sound of his engine.
"Out of the way!" he bellowed. "A couple of young heroes to get boattickets from his nibs, the Commandant!"
Perhaps the group of soldiers heard him, or perhaps they just naturallydidn't want to run the risk of being bowled over by the on-rushingmotorcycle. Anyway they leaped to the side and the driver and the twoboys went banging on by without a single check in the speed. Afteranother moment or so the soldier cut his engine, slammed on his brakeand slid around to a full stop as his tires sent a shower of wet sandinto the air.
"There you are, nippers!" he cried and vaulted from the seat. "How wasthat for a bit of a joy-ride, eh? She's a good little motor bike, sheis. A bit slow, but she'll do. Now, wait half a minute while I go see ifthe Commandant's about. Sit tight. I'll be right back."
He flung the last back over his shoulder as he went racing off to theleft. Neither Dave nor Freddy said anything. They were too busy fightingto get their breath back, and to unwedge themselves from the sidecar.Eventually they were out on the sand and feeling t
hemselves all overjust to make sure no arms or legs or anything had been left behind.
"Jeepers, jeepers!" Dave finally broke the silence. "You and thatBelgian sergeant are just beginners compared to that guy. My gosh! Iknow darn well he must have gone right through some of those buildings,instead of around them. Gee, Freddy! Look at those flames! No wonder youcould see them for miles. The whole town's going up in smoke."
"Yes, but look there, Dave!" Freddy cried and grabbed his arm as hepointed with his other hand. "There on the beach. It's the British army.Look! They're even wading out in the water to the boats! It must be tooshallow for them to get in any closer. Gee, Dave, _gee!_"
Dave couldn't speak as he stared at the sight. The words were all toochoked up inside of him to come out. The whole beach was practicallycovered with row after row of British and French soldiers. They stood inlong columns of ten and twelve men across, and those columns stretchedfrom high up on the beach far out into the shallow water. In someplaces cars, and tanks, and trucks, anything on wheels had been drivenout into the water and parked side by side, parked hub to hub and plankslaid across the tops of them to form a makeshift pier that could reachout into deeper water. But there were only a few of such piers. Most ofthe columns of men were wading out into the water until it came up totheir chests, and even up to their necks.
And out there looking weird and grotesque in the glow of the burningChannel port were boats of every conceivable description. There were rowboats, and yachts. Fishing smacks and pleasure yawls. Coastal vesselsand ferry boats. Motor boats and canoes. Barges and British destroyers.Anything and everything that could float had been brought over to helpin the evacuation. No, it wasn't the British Navy taking the BritishArmy home. It was all England come to rescue her fighting men.
Dave and Freddy stood rooted in their tracks staring wide eyed at thehistoric event that will live forever in the minds of men. Their eyessoaked up the scene, and their ears soaked up the conglomeration ofsound. Oddly enough, practically all of the sounds came from off shore.The blast of whistles, the blowing of signal horns, the purr and theroar of engines, and the shouts of the appointed and of the self-madeskippers and crews of the fantastic rescue fleet. The troops hardly madeany sound at all. Perhaps they were too tired. Perhaps the roar ofbattle still ringing in their ears momentarily stilled their tongues. Orperhaps they were content just to follow the next man ahead and praysilently that they would be taken aboard some kind of a boat and sailedaway before daylight and the Stukas arrived once again. But the realreason for their strange silence, probably, was because most of them hadbeen there for days waiting their turn, and dodging Stuka bombs andbursting shells. And after such an ordeal they were too stunned to knowor even care about talking. Each had a single, all important goal. Aboat of some kind. And they slogged and sloshed toward it, numb to allthat was going on about them.
"It's ... it's almost as though it isn't real!" Dave heard himselfwhisper aloud. "It's like being at a movie, and seeing something youknow was just made up. Gosh, there's thousands of them. Thousands! Iwonder how many have got away already? And...."
The last froze on Dave's lips. At that moment above the crackling andsullen roar of the flames devouring the city there came the dreadedsound. It was like the drumming moan of night wind in the trees, onlyit wasn't. It was a sound that chilled the blood of every man on shoreand off shore. It was Goering's Stukas and Heinkels and Messerschmittscoming up with the rising dawn. For a long second Dave and Freddy heardit, and then it was drowned out by the mounting groans and curses thatwelled up from the throats of those thousands of soldiers on the beach.Yet as Dave stared at them, unable to move, he saw that not a man brokeranks. Everybody stayed in his place, as though they were on a paradeground instead of on a beach strewn with their own dead. Rifles andportable machine guns were grabbed up and pointed toward the fastlightening heavens, but no man gave up his place in line.
And then the winged vultures under Goering's command came howling downout of the sky. Their noise drowned out all other noises, including thenoise of the guns that greeted them. It was as though some mighty giantwere tearing the roof right off the top of the world. It wasn't ascream, and it wasn't an earth trembling wail. Nor was it a continualthunderous roar. It was just a sound that had never been heard before,and, perhaps, will never be heard again. A mighty collection of allsounds in the whole world blended into one mighty inferno of noise.
As Dave and Freddy stood transfixed it didn't so much as even occur toeither of them to run for some kind of shelter. Their feet were lumps oflead and the ground was one great magnet that held them fast. Somethingspewed up orange and red flame a couple of hundred yards away from them.It was a bomb exploding, but they couldn't even hear the sound. Anotherfountain of flame, and sand showering down over everything, but noindividual sound of the bomb going off. A part of the sky overheadturned into a great raging ball of red fire. It tore their eyes upwardin time to see a Heinkel bomber outlined in livid flame. Then it wasengulfed by that flame and came hurtling down to hit the water off-shoreand disappear as though by magic.
It was then, and then only they realized that not all of the planesoverhead were German. It was then they saw British Hurricanes, andSpitfires, and Defiants slash down out of the dawn sky in groups ofthree and pounce upon the German planes in a relentless, furious attackthat set them to shouting wildly at the top of their voices. The RoyalAir Force. The R.A.F., the saviors of Dunkirk! Outnumbered by the Germanplanes, but so far above them in fighting heart, in spirit, and in realflying ability that there wasn't even any room left for comparison. ABritish plane against five Germans, against ten, or against fifty! Whatdid it matter? There were gallant troops to be evacuated back home.There were fleet after fleet of Goering's vultures with orders to shootdown the British troops like cattle. Never! Never in all God's world aslong as there was an R.A.F. plane left, and an R.A.F. pilot alive to flyit!
Suddenly Dave became conscious of a great pain in his right arm. Helooked down to see Freddy gripping it tightly with one hand and poundingit with his other fist. The light of a mad man was in the Englishyouth's eyes. When he had Dave's attention he stopped pounding andpointed to the left and beyond a short line of bomb blasted wharves.
"Look, look, Dave!" came his shrill scream faintly. "Look off that firstwharf. There's a motor boat. It was trying to get in close, but aMesserschmitt came down and sprayed the chap at the wheel. See! He'strying to get up. And there's the Messerschmitt again. Dave! The tidewill carry that boat up against those rocks, and smash in its bottom.Dave! Can you swim? We've got to reach that boat before it hits therocks. Look! The Messerschmitt is shooting again. He's got the poorchap. He's got him this time!"
As Freddy screamed in his ear Dave looked out at the boat. It was along slinky looking power boat, but it wasn't even slinking along, now.The lone figure had fallen across the engine hood, and a divingMesserschmitt was hammering more bullets into his body. And a runningtide was carrying the craft broadside toward some jagged rocks thatstuck up out of the water not two hundred yards away.
Dave was looking at it. And then suddenly he realized that his feet werepounding across the beach. That he was racing madly down the beachtoward the water's edge. And that Freddy Farmer was close at his heels.