"Shut off your motor, mate!" a voice shouted. "You won't be needing it any more. Step lively, you lads. Easy with the poor blighters, now. That's the way."
Before Dave and Freddy could climb stiff legged down from the ambulance the white banded group of soldiers had the rear doors open and were gently but swiftly lifting out the wounded on stretchers and carrying them to the train. Nobody talked. Even the wounded made no sound. Everybody seemed to realize that all that counted was speed, and they were concentrating on that alone. Dave watched for a minute or so and then went up to the soldier who had given the orders.
"Where's the train going?" he asked.
"Dunkirk, unless the Jerry fliers stop us," the soldier replied without looking at him. "Any more of these chaps coming along in back of you?"
"This is the last load from Lille," Dave said. "I don't know about any others."
"Lille?" the soldier gasped and seemed startled. "I thought the Jerries were there!"
"I fancy they are, now," Freddy spoke up. "I say, will there be room enough for us on that train, do you think?"
"Always room for two more on anything," the soldier grunted and watched the stretchers disappear into the maze of moving lights. "You chaps just follow me, and I'll...."
The soldier never finished the rest of that sentence. At any rate, if he did, the boys didn't hear him. At that moment there came the faint drone of engines high in the sky and to the east. Instantly it seemed as though a thousand men put whistles to their lips and all blew them at the same time.
"Bombers!" roared one fog horn voice.