Dave Dawson at Dunkirk

by Robert Sidney Bowen

He turned and put out his hand to shake Freddy sleeping close beside him. But when he saw the pale drawn face of his friend he let his hand drop back into his lap. He just didn't have the heart to wake up Freddy. The English youth was positively dead to the world, and one look at the completely exhausted expression on Freddy's face told Dave the youth wouldn't be fit to travel even if he were awakened. True, it might be very dangerous for them to remain where they are. German soldiers might stumble about them at 'most any moment. Just the same a strange sense of responsibility took possession of Dave. He was the older of the two, and the stronger. By more or less mutual consent he had become the leader. As the leader he should use his head. And it would not be using his head to wake up Freddy and force the poor kid to continue on.

"No, it's best to stick here, at least until dark," he argued with himself. "We're pretty well hidden under these bushes. And ... and, gosh, I just haven't the heart to wake him up!"

His decision made, he put his hand inside his shirt and pulled out the very much crushed half loaf of bread and the hunk of cheese. He ate a little of each and then made himself put the rest back inside his shirt. It helped his stomach a little, but it only served to aggravate his thirst. He'd rather have a glass of water right now than be standing in the middle of Piccadilly Circus, in London, with his father.

He lay back on the ground again and started thinking about his father in an effort to forget his thirst. But after no more than five or six seconds it just wasn't any use. He sat up again and peered around. It was then he saw the farm house and the sheds about half a mile away. Smoke was coming from the farm house chimney, and he could see figures moving about in the yard. Because of the sun in his eyes he couldn't tell if they were German troops or not. Off to the right he suddenly saw a moving cloud of dust. He knew at once it was a car traveling along a road. And presently the car came into view from behind a string of trees. It traveled up to the farm house and came to a stop. Four figures climbed out and hurried into the farm house. A faint hope that had been flowering in Dave died out at once. His straining eyes had made out the bucket shaped helmets and the tight-fitting field-grey uniforms of German officers.

Approaching the farm house was out of the question, now. He had hoped there might just be peasant farmers there, passed by by the Germans. But that obviously wasn't so. The place was alive with Hitler's soldiers. Fighting back his momentary defeat, he got slowly to his feet, took a make-sure look at the sleeping Freddy Farmer, and then crept off into the woods in search of a brook or a small pond.

Remembering his Boy Scout training, he broke branches off bushes every now and then so that he would be sure to find his way back to the sleeping Freddy. As a matter of fact, though, there really wasn't any need of his doing that. At the end of a quarter of a mile the ground sloped down into a shallow valley, and there was a small brook trickling through the middle. With a low cry of joy Dave rushed down to it, flung himself flat, and buried his face in the icy cold water. Never, never in all his life had anything felt so good, so completely satisfying as the coolness of that brook. Cupping his hands he drank until he couldn't hold another drop. Then tearing off part of his shirt sleeve he used it to wash his face and his neck. Finally, feeling almost like a new man, he got up and retraced his steps to his hiding place.

Freddy was awake when he got back, and when the English youth spotted him a look of fear and utter misery was instantly banished by joyful relief.

"Phew, what a fright you gave me!" Freddy choked out. "When I woke up I couldn't remember if we'd come to this spot together, or if we'd lost each other last night. I came jolly close to yelling for you and then I sighted those German blighters over at that farm house. Where have you been, and I wonder where we are?"

"I wish I knew," Dave said. "But I've got some good news, anyway. Go straight back about a quarter of a mile and you'll find a brook. Bet you could do with a nice long drink of water, couldn't you?"

"I should say so!" Freddy cried and sprang to his feet. "My throat feels completely filled up with dust."