CHAPTER VII
ESCAPE
When Stan awoke the next morning Sim was gone from his bunk. He sat up quickly, then lay back and let his stiff, sore muscles relax. There was no hurry. He was not going any place that day, perhaps not for a long time. Lying there he listened to O’Malley’s deep snores and thought back over the events of the past few hours.
Those events had happened so swiftly and so explosively that they seemed like the shadowy memory of a nightmare. He recalled that he had not asked O’Malley how he had been captured. He had just taken it for granted his pal had been through an experience the same as his own. It was odd, too, the way things fitted together. The oddest of all was finding Sim Jones billeted in the same prison.
A knock sounded upon the door. “Come in,” Stan called.
O’Malley sat up in bed suddenly, pawing the blankets away from his shoulders. He stared around the room, then scowled. The door opened and a Nazi corporal entered.
“Heil Hitler!” he said very loudly and clicked his heels together.
“Good morning,” Stan greeted.
O’Malley just glared at the corporal.
“I am Hans.” The Nazi looked behind him, sticking his head out so that he could see up and down the hall. He closed the door. “It is orders of Herr General that prisoners be up and taking exercises by seven each morning. I have let you sleep because you were very tired.”