Dave grinned at his English pal, and gave him a comforting nudge with his elbow.
"That makes two of us," he whispered. "But it's been only fifteen minutes, you know."
"Fifteen years!" Freddy corrected. "And look at that sun coming up! The more light around here, the tougher it's going to be for us, you know."
"You're telling me?" Dave murmured, and squinted at the first rays of dawn light stealing westward across the face of that part of France. "Swiping one of those Nazi planes in the dark is hard enough. But in broad daylight—well, let's not think about that little item. I sure wish, though, that—"
Dave never finished the rest of that statement. At that moment the door of the center building was jerked open and a fashion plate uniformed Nazi Staff Captain stood framed in the doorway. He swept black, cruel-looking eyes over the officers and men grouped about, and scowled angrily.
"Herr Major von Kummil!" he cried out in a rasping voice. "Herr Major von Kummil! Are you out here? Herr Field Marshal wants you at once!"
As the Nazi barked the words he jerked his head from side to side like a spectator watching the flight of the ball in a tennis match. Dave hesitated, then nudged Freddy Farmer.
"I think that means us," he whispered. "That's probably the Major who told us to wait. We've got to chance it, anyway. Right?"
The English youth simply nodded, and started pushing through the group outside the door. Dave was right at his heels. They stopped a few steps from the black-eyed captain, and saluted.
"Herr Major von Kummil was recalled to regimental Headquarters by Herr Colonel," Freddy spoke up in perfect German. "He instructed us to wait for Herr Field Marshal's pleasure."