Dave Dawson in Libya

by Robert Sidney Bowen

"Then you didn't notice it?" Freddy asked in surprise. "You didn't see what I saw?"

"No, guess I'm blind as a bat," Dave said. "But let's cut out the guessing games. Tell me the works before I pass out with curiosity."

"Why, it was one of those maps on the table in front of him," Freddy said. "The one by his right hand. It was completely marked and showed the whole plan of attack. It was hard reading the notes he'd made because they were upside down to me. But I got most of them after a while, and filled in the rest with guesses. At the end there he saw me looking at the map and realized how I had found out so much. If only I hadn't let him catch me. I had the beggar mighty worried. I'm sure I had him actually believing that there was another plane with us, and that it got back to Wavell's headquarters. Blast the luck, anyway!"

"Well, I sure take the booby prize!" Dave groaned. "Sure, I saw the maps, but I was just dope enough not to give them a thought. Old Freddy Farmer with the hawk eye—and brains. But how come he figured you spoke German?"

"The maps, Dave, the maps!" Freddy said patiently. "All the notes and stuff were in German. He realized at once that I had read and understood them. Don't you see?"

Dave groaned again and threw up his hands in a gesture of despair.

"Look, Freddy," he said, "if I turn around will you give me a good swift kick? Boy, am I slipping! Yeah, I guess you were crazy to select me to come along with you on this trip. I'm a lot of help, I don't think!"

"Now, just cut that out!" Freddy snapped at him. "No one runs down my best pal to my face, not even you. It was just by luck I happened to notice the map, anyway. And look what small good it's done! That cold-blooded beggar wasn't fooling us, Dave. He's just the type to do what he says he'll do. And it's all my fault. If I'd only kept my mouth shut."

"It's your turn to lay off running down my best pal," Dave told with a grin. "What's done is done, as they say. We've just got to figure some way to beat him. One thing, anyway. We know the whole set-up now. Gosh! If we could only get hold of that map and get out of here—"

Dave let the rest trail off into silence and stared moodily out the opened front of the tent. The Germans were making an inspection of their equipment after the night's march across the desert. Fuel supply trucks were being unloaded, and squads of soldiers were refueling the tanks and armored cars and troop transports, while others were checking engines and guns, and making sure that everything was in order.