CHAPTER THREE
_Night Raid_
The shrill whistle of the locomotive echoed across the twilight-steepedEnglish countryside. The train lurched and trembled for a moment or so,and then started gliding smoothly along the tracks. Dave and Freddy tooka last glance out the compartment window at the Chelmsford station andthen settled back comfortably on the cushioned seats. They had thecompartment to themselves, and for that they were truly grateful. Theywere headed for London for half leave and half military reasons, butthat didn't mean they weren't tired. The last few weeks had been crowdedwith more aerial warfare than had taken place in a whole year in WorldWar Number One. The Royal Air Force had almost single-handed held backthe Nazis from crossing the Channel. Still outnumbered, but not so muchas at Dunkirk, the R.A.F. boys from the squadron leaders right down tothe lowest grade mechanics had gained mastery of the air over theChannel and over England. And, what was more important, they had heldthat mastery regardless of the German fleets of planes Goering hadhurled against them.
Stretching out, Dave leaned his head back, and cocked his feet up on theopposite seat.
"If I could only get Air Vice-Marshal Saunders off my mind," he sighed,"I might catch me a bit of shut-eye. Boy, we've been hitting that oldball lately, you know?"
"Hitting what?" Freddy murmured, and closed his eyes. "What in the worlddoes that mean?"
"Sure, hitting the old ball," Dave said lazily. "Smacking that apple.Hitting on all six. Right on the beam every minute. Catch on?"
"Oh, of course!" Freddy groaned, and gave a shake of his head. "A chapwho spoke English would certainly be at a loss in the States, wouldn'the?"
"That's right," Dave said sleepily. "Just like an American being inEngland. Lift, for elevator! Treacle, when it's syrup! Queue-up, whenyou mean standing in line. Boy, what a language! And, am I all in!Jeepers! Am I tired! Am I--"
The sudden and abrupt slackening of the train's speed woke both boys upin a flash. In fact, it woke them up in the dark, for it was lateevening outside, and while they had dozed the conductor had come in andpulled down the compartment window curtains. A very pale blue light inthe corridor outside was of no more good than no light at all.
Freddy groaned aloud, flexed his stiff muscles, and peered around acorner of the window curtain.
"Now what?" he murmured. "Dark as pitch outside, but I'm sure we're noteven close to London yet. I say, hear those anti-aircraft guns?"
"With both ears," Dave said, and took a squint out himself.
By pressing close to the glass and trying to look in the direction ofthe engine, he could just barely see the long pencil-thin beams ofsearchlights raking the heavens far ahead. And every now and then thedark sky was stabbed by blotches of flaming red and crimson.
"The Jerries are over again, trying to hit some more women andchildren," he said grimly. "I hope our night boys get every darn one ofthem."
"They'll get some, I fancy," Freddy said quietly. "But why are werunning so slow? That raid is miles and miles ahead of us. Besides, Ialways thought a moving target was much harder to hit. This blastedtrain might just as well go sixty miles as six, as it must be doingnow."
"Stay after school, Pilot Officer Farmer!" Dave snorted. "And here Ithought you knew all the answers! My, my!"
"Oh, come off it!" Freddy snapped. "I suppose you know the reason?"
"Sure," Dave said.
"Well, what is it?"
"An official secret," Dave said in a hoarse whisper. "I'd tell you, buthow do I know there isn't a Nazi agent under the seat?"
"_You'll_ be under the seat, if you don't cut it out!" Freddy whisperedback at him. "Now, what's the great reason?"
"Okay, if you've got to know," Dave said in a patient, resigned voice."This is how it is, my little man. German planes carry bombs, and whenthey get over here they drop those bombs, see? Well, one might drop onthe track way ahead of a train going sixty miles an hour, see? Well,maybe the engineer couldn't stop in time, and the train would pile up.But if the train crawls along until the all-clear is sounded, then theengineer can stop it on a dime if he should go around a curve andsuddenly see a nice big bomb crater where the tracks should be. Now,right or wrong?"
Freddy made clucking sounds with his tongue in the darkness.
"Why, I believe the chap is right," he said, as though talking tohimself. "Yes, I fancy he has a little bit of something useful betweenthose big ears of his. You are right, of course, Dave."
"Ever see me when I was wrong?" Dave taunted. Then quickly: "No, let'snot bring that up! Hey! Those planes are headed this way!"
Dave could have saved his breath on the last. As though a huge invisibledoor in the sky had been opened, the thunder of the guns tripled insound. The compartment was suddenly bathed in the pale reflection of abattery of searchlight beams that suddenly sprang into action less thanfifty yards from the tracks. The train had come to a full halt now, withits headlight turned off. A moment later came the familiar drone ofnight-bombing Heinkels and Benz-Daimler powered Focke-Wulf 187s abovethe roar of the batteries of anti-aircraft guns.
For a moment Dave and Freddy watched the approach of the raiding planes.Then common sense got the best of curiosity. They stretched out on thecompartment floor beside each other to protect themselves as much aspossible in case any of those eggs of death should happen to land nearthe train. Perhaps they looked funny huddling down on the compartmentfloor in their best Sunday-go-to-meeting uniforms. However, in Englandit is not a sign of being afraid or of cowardice to fling yourself flatwhen the bombers come over. It is a sign of good sense. Perhaps it istrue that the bomb or bullet that gets you has your name on it, and youcan't escape it no matter where you are. At the same time, though, onlya fool or a madman deliberately dares a bomb to do him harm.
And so Freddy and Dave hugged the floor while the raiders roared overand plastered the countryside with their loads of death and destruction.At least fifty times an earth-shaking roar, and a towering sheet offlame, made them think that was the last bomb they'd ever hear in thiswar, or in this world. Each time invisible hands seemed to reach downout of that roaring, flame-filled night sky and lift the train clear upoff the tracks, and then let it drop back with a jarring crash. Aftereach outburst, however, they continued to remain alive. And presentlythe throbbing drone died away in the distance, the roaring and barkingof the guns ceased, and the searchlight beams winked out one by one.Night returned again to that section of England--night painted here andthere with the glow of fires set by the bombs.
"The big bums!" Dave growled, and got up off the floor. "As if you and Ihaven't got enough to worry about without them buzzing over to makethings worse. Were you scared, Freddy?"
"Stiff," the English youth promptly replied.
"Me, too," Dave said with half a chuckle. "That's my knees you hear,still knocking together. And they say you get used to air raids. Ohboy!"
"You probably do," Freddy said. "But I have no desire to prove it tomyself. I hope the blighters didn't hit the track. It's a long walk fromhere to London. I say, what's that?"
At that moment a burst of shots had shattered the comparative silenceoutside. Regardless of regulations, the boys threw up their compartmentwindow and leaned out. They saw a figure stumbling through the shadowsalongside the train. He was bent over double as though in pain, and hisfootsteps faltered. Just as he came abreast of their compartment somemore shots rang out. The stumbling figure stumbled for the last time. Hefell forward, flat on his face, and lay still. In a few seconds half adozen men in uniform came rushing up. One of them flashed a light on thestill figure, then bent down and rolled him over.
"Well, that's one blighter they won't be able to count on from now on!"a voice growled. "A jolly good thing he's finished, too!"
"Right!" a second voice said. "If we hadn't been a patrol, it might haveturned out a mess for this train. Fancy the beggar trying to let themknow where it was!"
"I say there!" Freddy called, and leaned farther out the window. "What'sall this
?"
"Keep back in that train, and--!" a voice started to say, but stopped asthe flashlight beam caught Dave and Freddy for a second in its glow."Oh, sorry, sir," the same voice spoke again. "Thought you were justnosy civilians, not R.A.F. Well, sir, we caught another one of themFifth Column beggars trying to do us harm."
"Yes, sir; that's right, sir," another voice broke in. "We were on ourusual patrol along the track when suddenly we saw some bloke slinkingalong ahead of us. The raiders weren't even close, then, so we justfollowed this beggar and didn't challenge him. Well, strike me pink,sir, if he didn't drop down on the tracks, and whip one of them redflare things from his pocket and start to light it."
"But he didn't get away with it, I can tell you, sir," the first voicespoke up. "Me and Harry, here, right ups and jumps on him before he'seven got the match to it. But he's a strong one, and he gives us a bitof a fight, and--"
"A bit of a fight?" the other voice interrupted again. "The blightertosses us around like we're a couple of rag dolls, and starts scootingdown the track. By then the bombers are right over us, and--Well, Iguess you heard the things they dropped. Anyway, we lose this blighterfor a bit during the mess-up. Then we spot him trying to get on thetrain. We don't bother to challenge, now. We just let him have what hedeserves. And here he is. A good thing, too!"
"A _very_ good thing," Freddy added. "Congratulations. You're air raidwardens, aren't you?"
"That's right, sir," one of them replied. "Too old for any regularmilitary work, but we're jolly well glad to do what we can to help."
Dave looked down at the still figure on the ground. But for thewatchfulness and constant vigilance of those "old" men, that dead Nazispy might have lighted the signal flare on the track and made itpossible for the German bombers overhead to see the slow moving train.But for those "old" men a bomb might have come screaming down to strikethe train and blow one Dave Dawson and one Freddy Farmer straight intothe next world. Dave glanced up at the men, and his eyes glowed withfrank and open admiration.
"And without your help," he said, "England would be in a pretty toughspot. She can thank you fellows for a lot--and how!"
The air raid wardens chuckled in an embarrassed sort of way.
"Well, thank you, sir," one of them said. "It's mighty nice of you toput it that way. We're glad to do our bit, though. You sound like aYank, sir."
"Oh, don't mind that," Freddy spoke up with a laugh before Dave couldsay a word. "You'd be surprised how he mangled the language at first.But he's really doing awfully well--for a little fellow. The squadroncommander's going to let him taste his first cup of tea next week.And--_Ouch!_"
Dave had eased off the window catch so that it slid down on Freddy'sneck. He held it there with his hands and grinned at the air raidwardens through the glass. They roared with laughter. Then as the trainstarted to move, Dave released Freddy's neck and pushed the window up.
"Good luck!" he shouted, and leaned out. "Thumbs up, mates!"
"The same to you, sir!" they shouted back. "Thumbs up, R.A.F.!"
The train picked up speed, and another little incident in the warcareers of Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer became history. They closed thewindow, pulled the curtain down, and sank back on the seats. Freddyrubbed the back of his neck and glared at Dave's grinning face.
"Go ahead and grin, you queer-looking ape," he muttered. "But I'll getback at you, no fear. And when I do, you'll jolly well know it, too."
"Let that be a lesson to you to speak of your superiors in the futurewith more respect," Dave chuckled. "You're lucky, my little man, Ididn't make you keep your head hanging out there all the way to London.But, gee, you English are certainly swell people!"
"Naturally," Freddy said in mock gravity. "Look who we are, my dearfellow. And just think how fortunate you are to have the opportunity toobserve and learn."
"No kidding, though," Dave said, "Hitler just hasn't a chance. It gaveme a great kick to meet those air raid wardens back there."
"I know what you mean," Freddy said, and nodded. "It isn't just theArmy, and the Navy, and the Air Force fighting Hitler, now. It'sEngland--all of England from the oldest right down to the youngest."
"What a dope Hitler was even to think he could get away with it!" Davemurmured. "Boy, oh boy! Is that guy riding for one big fall!"
"And I jolly well hope it will be soon!" Freddy echoed. "And thatreminds me. I certainly wish I knew what Air Vice-Marshal Saunders wantsof us!"
Dave groaned and slid down on the seat.
"My pal!" he sighed unhappily. "Just when I was all nice and relaxed,you'd have to go and bring _that_ up!"