CHAPTER ELEVEN
_Fighting Hearts_
As Dave glided the crippled Arado down toward the bomb and shell markedfield the icy fingers of fear were curled tightly about his heart. Hehad made one or two forced landings in his short flying career, but theyhad been like setting down a plane on a gigantic billiard table comparedto the task he now faced. If he under-shot the patch of ground he wasaiming at he would go plowing straight into a battery of Belgianartillery guns hurling shells across the Albert Canal into theon-rushing German hordes. And if he over-shot the field or swerved toomuch to the right or left he would go crashing into a maze of shellblasted tree stumps which would tear the plane to shreds and snuff outhis life, and Freddy's, as easily as one snuffs out the flame of acandle.
His only hope lay in hitting the field in the center and checking theforward roll of the plane so that when it did slide over and down intoone of the bomb craters the crash impact wouldn't be too violent. Inhis heart he knew that he stood but one chance in a thousand of comingout of the crash uninjured. But there was no other way out, the die hadbeen cast. The engine had been hit and was dead. There was only one wayto go, and that was down.
On impulse he jerked his head around and looked back. It seemed asthough he had not heard Freddy's voice in a year or more, and suddenpanic swept through him. Was Freddy all right? Had he been hit, and wasthat why he had not spoken? In the brief instant it took to jerk hishead around and look back, Dave died a hundred agonizing deaths.
Luck, however, was still riding the cockpits with them. The Englishyouth was still alive, and very much so, too. His lips were drawn backin a tight grin even though his face was white, and there was a sort ofglazed, glassy look in his eyes. Being a pilot, himself, Freddy knewexactly what it was all about. He had sense enough not to try any backseat driving in the emergency. He was leaving everything to Dave, andtrusting in his friend's judgment. He sat perfectly still in the seat,his arms half raised and ready to throw them across his face when theyhit in order to protect himself as much as possible.
Sitting still and showing his faith in Dave by the tight grin on hislips. That realization gave Dave new courage as he turned front again.The ground was just under his wheels, now. He would not under-shoot thefield, nor would he over-shoot it either. He had proved his flying skillthus far. The rest was ... was in the lap of the gods!
Ten feet off! Nine feet, eight ... seven ... six! He was hugging the Depwheel now all the way back against his stomach to bring the nose up justa few more inches before the ship stalled and dropped. His whole bodysensed that moment of stalling; that moment when the lift of the wingswas absolutely nil. He sensed it now and instantly let go of the stick,buried his head in his arms, and let his whole body go limp.
For two seconds, or perhaps it was for two long years, the Arado seemedto hang motionless in the air. Then suddenly it dropped belly first likea rock. The wheels hit hard and the ship was bounced back up into theair again. It hit again, and bounced again. It hit once more and Davefelt the tail wheel catch on something and send the ship plungingcrazily off to the right. He jammed hard on the left rudder tocounteract the movement, but it was too late. Fate had placed a hugeGerman bomb crater in the way. The plane slithered over the lip of thecrater and charged dizzily downward.
Memory of a wild ride on a Coney Island roller coaster streaked throughDave's brain. And then the plane careened up on its side, and half up onits nose. It swayed there with its tail pointing up at the sky. Ittwisted twice around and then fell over on its back with a jarring thud.An invisible giant reached out a fist and punched Dave hard on thechest. The air in his lungs whistled out through his mouth, and forhorrible seconds colored lights whirled around in his brain, and theentire universe was filled with roaring, crashing thunder.
The spell passed in a moment, and he found himself hanging head downwardon his safety harness. His first thought was for Freddy, and hestruggled to twist around and look back, but he couldn't make it.
"Freddy!" he yelled in a choking voice. "Are you all right?"
A heart chilling instant of silence greeted his question, and then cameFreddy's faint reply.
"Not hurt a bit, Dave! But the blasted safety harness broke, and I'mdown here in a beastly puddle of mud. Can you give me a hand?"
Reaction set in and Dave laughed hysterically, and tore at his safetybelt buckles. He got them unfastened and grabbed hold of the sides ofthe cockpit before he went plunging down into the muddy bottom of thebomb crater, himself. He twisted over and landed feet first. It wasthen he had his first look at Freddy. The English lad was plopped downon the seat of his pants in a good eight inches of mud. And there wasmud from the top of his head all the way down. He had obviously landedsquare on his head but had managed to squirm around and sit up beforethe sticky yellow ooze suffocated him. Right at the moment he was pawingthe stuff off his face so he could see.
Dave plowed around to him and caught him under the armpits, and heaved.Freddy's body coming up out of the mud sounded like somebody pulling acork from a bottle. Still hanging onto him, Dave ducked under a sectionof the crumpled wing and hauled and tugged them both up out of thecrater on to firm dry ground. Then he dug a handkerchief from his pocketand started wiping off Freddy's face.
"Boy, do you look a sight, Freddy!" he chuckled. Then in a more serioustone, "I'm darn sorry, Freddy. That sure was a rotten landing. I guess Ithought I was too good. I should have let you do the flying."
Freddy snorted and squinted at him out of one eye.
"Rotten landing?" he gasped. "Good grief, they can't fly any better thanthat in the R.A.F., Dave. I thought sure we'd both be killed. Andneither of us has so much as a scratch. You couldn't have done it anybetter, Dave. Honest!"
"Thanks," Dave grinned. "But it was all luck. And I was scared stiff.Thank goodness those Messerschmitt guys were such punk shots. Now, wipesome more off, and we'll...."
Dave cut off the rest short and spun around. A squad of Belgian infantrymen was racing across the field toward them. The bayonets on theirrifles glistened in the sun, and the cries of wild men were burstingfrom their lips. The truth hit Dave in the flick of an eye. ThoseBelgians took them for two members of the Nazi Air Force, and they wereracing over to get vengeance for what those Stuka dive bombers had beendoing to them. Even as the truth came to Dave one of the runningsoldiers threw his rifle up to his shoulder and fired. The bullet cutpast Dave's face so close he could almost feel its heat. He leaped infront of Freddy who was still wiping his face and flung up both hands.
"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" he yelled in French. "We're not Germans!America! England! Don't shoot! _Vive les Allies!_"
The Belgian soldiers rushed up to him and leveled their rifles at hisstomach. They were a vicious looking lot, but they had been made thatway by the fury of war hurled down on them for the last seventy-twohours or more. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their faces were cakedwith dried blood and dirt. Their beards were sodden messes, and theiruniforms were torn and ripped to rags. Their rifles were the only cleanthing about them.
One of them with corporal chevrons on his tattered tunic sleeve steppedforward until the tip of his wicked looking bayonet was within an inchof Dave's neck.
"You are Boches!" he shouted and nodded at the wrecked plane. "We sawyou dive down on us. Well, you will not dive again. We shall...."
"Wait, wait!" Dave shouted in wild alarm. "I tell you we are not German.He's English, and I'm an American. We have just escaped from Germany. Wewere prisoners there. We have to get to Allied Headquarters at once. Wehave valuable information."
The Belgian corporal hesitated and looked puzzled. His men obviously didnot believe Dave. They made snarling sounds in their throats andshuffled forward a bit. Dave opened his mouth to explain some more, butFreddy beat him to the punch. The young English boy suddenly steppedforward and a stream of words poured from his thin lips. He had livedmany years on the Continent and he knew how to deal with either theFrench or the Belgians.
"Listen t
o me, you lugger heads!" he ranted at them. "My friend speaksthe truth. We have just escaped from Germany, and we have importantinformation. Take us to your commanding officer at once, do you hear? Dowe look like Germans? Of course not! Where are your heads, your brains?Have you not seen us risk our lives trying to reach this side of thelines? Take us to your commanding officer. He may even recommend you fora medal. You hear me? Take us to your commanding officer or I shall makea personal complaint to the Commander in Chief of British Army Staff,General Caldwell. Attention, at once! Take us to your commandingofficer, _now!_"
Grins slowly appeared on the faces of the battle wearied Belgiansoldiers. The corporal chuckled and lowered his bayonet from Dave'sthroat.
"The little one spits fire when he speaks," he murmured and nodded hishead. "No, I do not believe now that you are Germans. But you had a verylucky escape, my two little ones. We do not feel very pleased today. Norwill we be happy for a long time to come, I am afraid. It looks bad,very bad. Come! I will take you to my Lieutenant."
"It looks bad?" Freddy asked quickly. "Can't you hold them? Aren't theBritish and the French helping?"
The Belgian corporal shrugged and wiped his tired eyes with a dirt andmud smeared hand.
"It is possible," he grunted. "I do not know. We hear very little exceptthe guns and those cursed bombs. But, there are no British or Frenchhere. Only Belgians. And we cannot stop them. We have not the men, orthe guns, or the tanks. And planes? Where are all our planes? Look atthe sky! It is filled with nothing but Boche planes. Yes, my little one,it looks very bad. But we are not afraid to die. No!"
The soldier shrugged again, then nodded with his head and startedtrudging back across the field, trailing his rifle as though it weigheda ton instead of a few pounds or so. Freddy and Dave dropped into stepwith the others and went along. Nobody spoke. Nobody but the bombs andthe shells but a few miles away, and rapidly drawing closer. Dave leanedtoward Freddy.
"Boy, can you dish out their language!" he breathed. "But I don't blamethem. They must have been through something terrible. It's a wonder theydidn't shoot and ask questions afterward."
"Yes," Freddy said in a dull voice. "I wonder where the French and theBritish are? I hope they can get here in time."
Dave didn't attempt to answer the question. He suddenly felt very tired,and old. His strength had been sapped to the limit, and his spirits werestaggering under a crushing weight. The picture of those German hordespouring across the Albert Canal and virtually beating the Belgians rightdown into the ground was still clear as crystal in his brain. It waslike a mighty tidal wave hurtling forward with nothing but a picketfence in the way to stop it.
At the far end of the field the Belgians turned left on a winding narrowdirt road. They went down this for some fifty yards or so, then left theroad and entered some woods. In the heart of the woods several companiesof Belgian troops were frantically building up machine gun emplacements,stringing out barbwire, and moving light field pieces into place to bearon the winding dirt road. The corporal stopped before a young lieutenantand saluted smartly. Dave and Freddy stopped and waited while thecorporal spoke to the officer.
In a moment or so the lieutenant came over and stared at them both outof bleak, dead tired eyes.
"What is all this?" he demanded briskly.
Dave let Freddy do the talking as he had the language down perfect. Theyoung Englishman talked a steady stream for two or three moments, givinga brief account of their movements since the day the Nazi armies brokethrough into Belgium and the Low Countries. The Belgian officer listenedin silence, and when Freddy finished he took a map from his pocket andspread it out on the ground.
"Where were some of those pins and flags you saw on that map?" he asked.
Dave still let Freddy do the talking, and simply watched while theEnglish youth pointed out various points on the map. The Belgian noddedhis head from time to time, and presently folded the map and got quicklyto his feet.
"I am positive you have seen a map of great importance!" he said. "Iwill see that you are taken to Belgian G.H.Q. at once. You will tellthem all you know, and they will communicate with the Allied HighCommand. You are very brave boys, you know?"
Freddy flushed and looked uncomfortable.
"We only want to do everything we can to help," he said quietly.
The Lieutenant's tired lips twisted back in a wistful smile as heglanced from Freddy to Dave.
"I would feel very happy if I had a million like you under my command,"he murmured. "If only half what you say is true, it is enough.Sergeant!"
A huge bearded non-com putting a machine gun in working order got to hisfeet and lumbered over. He ran his bloodshot eyes over Freddy and Dave,and then fixed them on his officer.
"My Lieutenant?" he grunted.
"These two, Sergeant," the Lieutenant said with a jerk of his head."They are to be taken to General Boulard's headquarters at once. Youwill take one of the light scouting cars and drive them there. That isall."
The big sergeant blinked and looked dubious.
"I will try, of course, my Lieutenant," he said. "But we may meet withdifficulty. A runner has arrived only a moment ago at the FortiethCompany. The Boche tanks have cut the road to Namur. They seek to getaround in back of us. The Boche planes are also bombing the entire road.It will be difficult but I will attempt it, my Lieutenant."
Dave saw the Belgian officer's face pale under its coating of blood anddirt. The man clenched his fists in a helpless gesture, and somethingakin to tears of bitter rage glistened in his haggard eyes. At thatexact moment the whole world was filled with a terrifying eerie scream.The Belgians fell flat on their faces. The Lieutenant dragged Freddy andDave down with him, and tried to cover them with his own body.
Dave knew the meaning of that awful sound. He had heard it along thatroad packed with terror stricken refugees. He had heard it as he draggedan old woman to the flimsy protection of an ox cart. His heart stoodstill in his chest. The blood ceased to surge through his veins. Hislungs became locked with air, and his brain became numb and useless ashe waited those terrible few seconds. The diving Stuka's death load hiton the far side of the road. Half of Belgium seemed to fountain up intothe sky, and what was left rocked and swayed crazily. Thunderous soundswept over Dave and seemed actually to shove him down into the ground.In a crazy sort of way he wondered if he was dead. Then the next thinghe realized the Belgian lieutenant was helping him up onto his feet.
"It is only the direct hits that matter," the officer said in a gentlevoice, and smiled.
"That was plenty direct enough for me!" Dave said and gulped.
"Yes, quite!" Freddy breathed and clenched his hands to stop his fingerstrembling.
"When they dive several at a time, then it is not pleasant," the Belgianinfantry officer said. "But one can only pray. That is the way withwar. But, about this trip to General Boulard's headquarters. You heardwhat the Sergeant said? It may be very dangerous. Perhaps you would careto wait awhile, and rest?"
Something in the officer's tone made Dave jerk his head up.
"Hey, I wasn't _that_ scared!" he blurted out. "We're ready to startright now. Okay, Freddy?"
"Of course," the English youth replied instantly. "Let's start at once.The sooner we get there, the better."
"You are good soldiers, and I salute you," the officer murmured. "Verywell, then. And all my good wishes. After all, perhaps it is not best towait here. Soon we shall be very busy, here. Yes, very busy. Sergeant!You have your orders."
The tired Belgian officer clicked his heels and saluted the two boys.They returned the salute and as Dave looked into the Belgian's eyes hesaw a look there he would never forget as long as he lived. That officerknew what was coming toward him from the Albert Canal. He knew that hewould stay where he was and face it. And he also knew that he wouldprobably never live to see another sunrise. In a few words he had toldof all that was in his thoughts. He had simply said, "Soon we shall bevery busy, here."
The Belgian's loy
alty and great courage stirred Dave to the depths ofhis soul. He impulsively reached out and grasped the officer's hand andshook it.
"I hope you beat the stuffing out of them. Lieutenant," he said in arush of words. "Freddy and I will be rooting for you, and how!"
"You bet we will!" the English youth echoed. "I jolly well hope youchase them all the way back to Berlin!"
The Belgian officer made no reply. He smiled at them sadly and salutedagain. The boys turned away and followed the big Sergeant through thepatch of woods to the far side where a unit of small tanks and scoutingcars was parked in under the trees. The Sergeant climbed in behind thewheel of the nearest scouting car and motioned the two youths to get inback. A couple of moments later the engine was doing its work and theSergeant was skillfully tooling the car across open fields toward thesouthwest.
For a few moments Dave stared at the frenzied activity of the Belgiantroops that were all around them. Inexperienced though he was inmilitary technique, and so forth, he instinctively knew that the braveBelgians were making feverish preparations for a last ditch standagainst the Germans. And with the picture of the Albert Canal crossingstill fresh in his memory he knew in his heart that all he saw would bejust a waste of gallant effort. Those German hordes, protected by theirswarms of planes, would go right through as though the Belgians weren'tthere at all. It actually made his heart hurt to watch them and so heslumped down in the seat of the car, and let his body sway with thebumps, and stared moodily at the back of the driver's neck.
Presently Freddy reached over and placed a hand on his knee and pressedit.
"Chin up, Dave!" he heard Freddy say. "We'll get through all right, youwait and see."
Dave shook his head and sat up a bit and grinned.
"Sure we'll make it," he said. "I'm not worrying about that. I was justthinking."
"About what?" Freddy asked.
"Well, just then I was thinking about that Arado I cracked up," Davesaid. "I sure feel rotten about that. I wish I could have brought itdown all in one piece."
"Good grief, forget it!" Freddy gasped. "It was wonderful of you to getit down at all. I would have killed us both, for fair. I can tell you,now, that I was very scared when you took off. I didn't know then howwell you could fly, but I do, now. You're a little bit of all right,Dave. I mean that, really!"
"You're swell to say that, anyway," Dave grinned. "I'm still sorry,though, I had to go and crack it up. I don't know ... Well, I guessa plane to me is something like what his horse is to a cow puncher.It's ... it's almost something human."
"I know what you mean, Dave."
"Do you, Freddy?" Dave echoed. "Well, that's the way it is. And I'lltell you something, but you'll probably think I'm nuts. I made an awfulpunk landing when I made my first solo. Cracked up the ship. I busted awing and wiped the undercarriage right off, and didn't get a scratch.But do you know? I felt so bad about it I busted right out bawling likea kid. My instructor was scared stiff. He thought something awful hadhappened to me. But when I finally cut it out he was swell about thewhole thing. He said it was the normal reaction of a fellow who couldreally go for flying. It made me feel better anyway. Yeah, I sure feelpretty punk for busting up that Arado, even though it was a Germancrate."
Freddy started to speak but Dave didn't even hear the first word. Thecar had bounced out of a field and was being swung onto a road when thelandscape on all four sides suddenly blossomed up with spouting geysersof brilliant red flame and towering columns of oily black smoke.Thunderous sound rushed at them and seemed to lift the small scoutingcar straight up into the air.
"Shrapnel barrage!" the Sergeant screamed and slammed on the brakes."Take cover under the car at once!"
Dave Dawson at Dunkirk Page 11