"But I'd like to be up there in a Curtis P-Forty!" he spoke aloud. "I bet I could do something, or at least try!"
His words stiffened Freddy Farmer at his side. The English boy leaned close.
"Are you a pilot, Dave?" he whispered. "Do you fly?"
"Some," Dave said. "I've gone solo, anyway. I hope some day to get accepted for the Army Air Corps. I think flying is the best thing yet. There's nothing like it. Hear those planes up there? Boy!"
"They're German," Freddy said. "Heinkel bombers, I think. Or perhaps they are Dorniers, I can't tell by the sound. I'm crazy about flying, too. I joined an aero club back in England. I've got a few hours solo to my credit. When war broke out I tried to enlist in the Royal Air Force, but they found out about my age and it was no go, worse luck. But, some day I'm going to wear R.A.F. wings. At least, I hope and pray so. I...."
"Silence!" the German officer's harsh voice grated against their eardrums once more. "You will not speak!"
"A rum chap, isn't he?" Freddy breathed out the corner of his mouth.
"Sure thinks he's a big shot," Dave breathed.
And then as the transport continued to rumble and roll eastward Nature took charge of things as far as the boys were concerned. Strong and healthy though they were, they had been through a lot since dawn. It had been more than enough to wear down a full grown man. And soon they fell sound asleep.
The rasping and clanging of gears and the shouting of voices in German eventually dragged Dave out of his sound slumber. It was still dark but he could see the first faint light of a new dawn low down in the east. The motorized transport had come to a stop in the center of a small village. Dave could see that here, too, shells and bombs had been at work, but lots of the buildings remained untouched. There were German soldiers in all kinds of uniforms all over the place. A hand was slapped against his shoulder and he looked up to stare into the small bright eyes of the German lieutenant.