"Phew, I'm starved!" the English youth exclaimed before he could check himself.
Dave laughed and took a quick step backward.
"That's proof!" he cried. "It's not a dream. You're still Freddy Farmer. It all actually happened."
Dave suddenly cut himself off short and glanced upward. The smile died from his lips and his eyes.
"Well, I guess you'll have to stay hungry, pal," he murmured. "Unless you can go for the stuff the Jerries call food. Here comes the welcoming committee! And one of them must be a big shot. Look at all the fancy German High Command markings on his plane. Wouldn't it be something if it was Hitler in that ship sliding down our way, huh?"
Freddy Farmer tilted his head and looked up at the four Messerschmitt One-Nines coasting down and around into the wind, preparatory to landing. The plane in the lead had Luftwaffe High Command markings on either side of the fuselage. And as if they weren't enough to signify that some high ranker sat in the pit, a black and white streamer was attached to the radio antenna pole.
"If it is Hitler," Freddy murmured, "it'll be the happiest moment in my life. Among other things about that madman I despise, is that toothbrush affair he wears on his upper lip."
"It would be like socking so much jelly," Dave said disgustedly. "From all the pictures I've seen, he looks flabby all over."
"Particularly upstairs!" Freddy added. Then with a heavy sigh, "I certainly hope and pray that the pictures Barker took back will tell British Intelligence some things they want to know."
Dave clenched his fists helplessly, and said nothing. The English youth's words were like a bucket of ice water splashing down over his spirit. They brought him back to earth and stark realization of the situation. And it was the most depressing and disheartening picture he had ever faced. Their special mission had turned out one third successful. Yet had it? Would the pictures Flight Lieutenant Barker had taken be of any use to British Intelligence? What had Barker's camera seen that he, Dave Dawson, had not seen with his own eyes? And what he had seen had been no more than a tremendous expanse of expert camouflaging.