Dave Dawson on the Russian Front

by Robert Sidney Bowen

"Come in, at once! Don't just stand there, fools!"

The sound of that voice in the darkness sent a little cold shiver rippling through Dawson. It was gone in an instant, but not before he was dead sure that the words had come from a Nazi throat. He had had the feeling all along that his captor and Freddy's conductor were English. Yes, English-born rats who would sell out their country for gold. History has proved time and time again that there are rats like that in every nation on the face of the earth. But the man who had spoken from the darkness was one hundred percent Nazi breed. The tone of his voice indicated as much, and Dave was sure that one look at his face, the set of his eyes, the slope of his forehead, and the width of his jaws would be the final proof.

And that final proof was revealed no more than twenty seconds later. Just time enough for Freddy and himself to be herded in through the doorway, for the door to be slammed shut, and a match touched to the wick of an oil lamp on a table in the middle of the room. For a moment the sudden change from pitch darkness to light threw Dawson's eyes all out of focus. Presently, though, he was able to adjust his vision, and get his first look at his captors.

His hunch was correct. The faces of the pair that had boarded the Flying Scotsman at that signal stop were typically beefy British red; the faces of men who spent most of their lives outdoors in a climate that could be damp and clammy one day, and windy and icy the next. And the third man, the one who had spoken from within the night-shrouded doorway, was thoroughly German. His face had that moon-shaped, brutish look, his eyes the look of something vile and treacherous. And the very air about him smelled of things foul and evil.

"Good!" the man suddenly broke the silence, and smirked with pleasure. "Those are the two. For once you did not bungle my orders. I am delighted. Put them in those chairs, and keep your eyes on them. You had no trouble, no?"

The two kidnappers hesitated, and glanced at each other. Then quick as a flash Dawson laughed aloud.

"Nope!" he said. "No trouble at all—yet!"

The one who had been referred to as Stohl half whirled and fixed blazing gimlet eyes on Dawson.

"Hold your tongue, swine!" he snarled. "You will speak when I order you to. Now, you, answer my question!"

A tiny note of worry was mixed up in the snarl directed at the two kidnappers, and hope began to surge up in Dawson. He and Freddy had been shoved down into a couple of chairs, and they had a good look at the beefy-faced pair. At that moment the one in conductor's uniform spoke. He seemed to have to force the words off his lips one at a time.