It was instantly evident that this was the one wrong thing to ask. One of the soldiers tittered faintly, and the corporal's neck and face flushed a beet red. Undoubtedly he had yet to hear a shot fired, and had been sent to Antwerp for patrol duty long after the city had been taken by the real fighting forces of Adolf Hitler. He stood glaring, and Dave inwardly braced himself for the blow he expected to come. In a minute, however, the German managed to get control of his anger. But the wrong question by Dave had completely upset the apple cart. He had hoped that by getting on the good side of the corporal he might persuade the man to tell him some place to go and ask for work, and would be sent on his way. Thus he would be able to slip on through the patrol area and eventually lose himself in the city. But—
The apple cart had been tipped over.
"Fritz!" the corporal barked back over his shoulder. "Take him to the Central Detention Station and throw him inside. Tell Sergeant Mueller that I will be in later to make a report on him. Take him in the sidecar and return at once."
"Very good, Corporal," a voice said.
Then a skinny soldier with bulging eyes stepped forward and rammed Dave in the chest with the muzzle of his short but deadly field rifle. Dave whimpered and shrank back and looked appealingly at the corporal.
"But I have done nothing, Herr Kommandant!" he whined.
The corporal snorted and made a curt gesture with his hand.
"You were born!" he snapped. "And that was too much, as I see things. Take him away, Fritz!"
The soldier grinned and prodded Dave again with the barrel of his rifle.
"March in front of me!" he shouted. "Down the street. Try to run away and I will shoot you for a wild pig. March!"