Instinctively, as he began to run, Charlton turned away from the advancing Germans but Gregory grabbed his arm and pulled him sharply to the right.
“This way!” he grunted. “Our best chance is to try to put the crest of the hill between us and them. We’ll get a few minute’s start while they’re examining the wrecked plane.”
For a hundred yards they ran on in silence, then Charlton muttered: “How’s that wound of yours?”
“Not too good.” Gregory panted. “I wrenched it when we crashed and it’s started to bleed again, but I reckon I can do about a couple of miles. I wish to God that instead of listening to Erika you’d had the sense to bind it up for me.”
“Your girl-friend wouldn’t let me,” Charlton snapped impatiently. “I told you; her one thought was to have you out of this, and I don’t wonder. If you were as dangerous to her as you’ve been to me she’d have been better off running round with a packet of dynamite in the seat of her drawers.”
“Let’s save our breath till we’re clear of the Troopers,” Gregory snapped back. “We’ll have plenty of time for mutual recrimination later on.”
Charlton accepted the suggestion and they plodded on side by side up the grassy slope. Suddenly a few distant lights came into view, which told them that they had reached its crest. At that moment there was a loud explosion behind them.
For a second the whole landscape was lit up as brightly as though someone had fired a gargantuan piece of magnesium tape. Both of them automatically halted and looked back. They were just in time to catch the after-glow of the central flash and see a tall column of lurid flame shoot up towards the sky.
“That’s the plane,” said Charlton bitterly. “Those blasted gunners must have just about reached it. I hope to hell the explosion put paid to some of them.”
As he spoke a shot rang out; another; and another. Outlined against the sky they had been sighted in the flash of the explosion. The bullets whistled round them and with a sharp whack one tore through the skirt of Charlton’s leather jacket.
Gregory flung himself flat. “You hit?” he called anxiously, as Charlton flopped down beside him.
“No. It was a near thing, though. What filthy luck that we happened to be right on the sky-line just as the plane went up! If we’d crossed the crest a moment earlier or a moment later we might have got away unseen.”
“Anyway, we’re spotted now and the hunt is up,” Gregory muttered, and they began to wriggle quickly forward on their stomachs.
Bullets hummed and whistled through the grass but the flames from the burning plane lit only the slope up which they had come and the far side of the crest was in almost total darkness. The Boches were now firing blind, so there was little chance of their scoring a hit, and when the two fugitives had progressed about twenty yards down the further side of the slope they were sufficiently under cover to be safe again for the moment.
Standing up, they began to run once more and Gregory said: “I suppose you had a time-bomb in the plane?”
“Yes; we always carry one to prevent our aircraft falling into the hands of the enemy if we have to make a forced landing. I pulled out the pin while you were still rolling about the upturned roof of the cabin.”
“Good man! You know, I like you, Charlton; although I’m afraid I haven’t given you any cause to fall in love with me. It takes nerve to remember a thing like that just after you’ve narrowly escaped being shot to hell and breaking your neck into the bargain.”
“Thanks.” Freddie Charlton’s voice was non-committal. “It wasn’t your fault that we were shot down, although you were just on the point of behaving like a lunatic. Anyhow, there’s no sense in my bearing you any malice about that now. We’re in this filthy mess together, so we may as well be pleasant to each other until we’re caught and bunged into separate cells.”
“That’s the idea,” Gregory panted; “but with a little luck we’ll give these birds the slip yet. Old soldiers never die, you know; they only fade away. I’ve been in tougher spots than this in my time and I’ve always succeeded in fading.”
“You’ll need the fairy’s cloak of invisibility and the giant’s seven-league boots into the bargain to fade out of this mess, but I give you full marks for guts and optimism.”
“Thanks. I—” Gregory’s words were cut short by the crack of a single rifle which was instantly followed by an irregular volley. The soldiers had breasted the rise and were spraying the lower ground with random shots in the hope that one of them might find a mark.
“Hell!” Charlton exclaimed. “Can you put on a spurt?”
“Yes,” muttered Gregory through his teeth. “Head a bit more to the right! When the plane blew up I spotted a dark patch of woodland over there.”
“So did I.” Charlton grabbed Gregory’s good arm to support his failing strength and they dashed forward together.
The ground beneath their flying feet was still grassland so they were making good going, but as they glanced over their shoulders from time to time they saw from the flashing torches in their rear that the soldiers had spread out into a long line. It was a case of fox and hounds where, although the fox may be the faster, hounds always win in the long run unless the fox can go to earth. If they could not find cover fairly soon the fastest among their pursuers would wear them down and inevitably come up with them.
Two hundred yards further on Charlton stumbled and fell, pitching into a deep ditch. Gregory’s wound was paining him again, badly now, and his breath was rasping in his lungs, but he still had all his wits about him. Pulling up just in time he prevented himself from plunging after the airman.
With curses and groans Charlton regained his feet. Gulping for breath they clambered up the further bank of the ditch together to find themselves on a road. It was very dark but ahead of them lay a deeper blackness and on the far side of the road they both stumbled into tree-trunks. They had reached the wood.
Under the branches the blackness was absolutely pitch-dark and, as they blundered on, they were constantly running into trees or bramble bushes. The next few moments were a positive nightmare. Behind them they could hear the staccato orders of the officer who was urging his men after them and the guttural cries of the Germans keeping in touch with one another. Their pursuers were already crossing the ditch and coming up on to the road, yet owing to the density of the wood and their inability to see even a few inches ahead of them the fugitives seemed to have made practically no progress. They were barely twenty yards inside the wood, still panting from their long run, bruised by collisions with trees unseen in the darkness and their hands torn by strands of bramble which clutched at them from every side, when the torches of the soldiers began to flicker upon the trees that lined the roadside.
As they struggled on, sweating and panting, the twigs under their feet seemed to snap with reports like the crackle of musketry and they both felt convinced that the noise would give away their position. One of the soldiers started to shoot again and bullets whined away to their left but on a sharp order from the officer the firing ceased. He did not want his men endangered by their own bullets, which might ricochet off the tree-trunks.
Gasping, bleeding, bruised, almost exhausted, Gregory and Charlton blundered desperately forward, keeping in touch with each other by the noise they were compelled to make in forcing their way through the unseen undergrowth. Gradually the sounds of the pursuit faded in the distance and at last they could hear only the noise of their feet thrashing against the brambles. Instinctively they halted.
“What did I tell you?” chuckled Gregory, after he had had a chance to get his breath. “You were so certain that they’d catch us but we’re still free.”
“For how long, though?” Charlton muttered gloomily. “I expect they’re on their way back to their comfortable beds by now but they’ll be out here again first thing in the morning. What’s the sense in spending a night in this filthy wood only to be captured tomorrow?”
“We’re better off here than we should be in the cells of the local Gestapo. As for tomorrow, we’ll see. If only I were fit we’d put a dozen miles between ourselves and this wood before morning. The devil of it is that this wound of mine makes it impossible for me to go much further.”
“Is it hurting much?”
“Yes; like hell!” Gregory was leaning against a tree and he drew a hand wearily over his eyes. “If we’d had to run another half-mile I should have fainted again, I think. As it is, I’m about all-in.”
“We’d better shake down here for the night, then.”
“I suppose we must, although I’m damned if I like it. We’re still much too near that road for comfort. I’m good for a last effort but I don’t think we’d better risk trying to get deeper into this wood in the darkness, otherwise we may move round in a circle and walk right out of it again. Let’s look about for a spot that’s clear of these accursed blackberry bushes.”
Charlton got out his lighter and flicked it on. The tiny flame only lit the surrounding gloom sufficiently to show his face caked with sweat and congealed blood where low branches had scratched it.
“I can improve on that,” said Gregory, taking a box of matches from his pocket. “It’s the first time I’ve had cause to be thankful that owing to their tax on matches the Nazis don’t allow lighters in their country.”
As the match flared they could see that the wood about them was very dense and the ground almost entirely covered with undergrowth. Proceeding cautiously they made their way towards a place where the trees were not quite so thick and found that the break was caused by a shallow gully.
“This’ll do,” said Gregory; “in fact it’ll have to, as the longer we show a light the greater our danger.”
Side by side they sat down in the ditch. It was quite dry and soft from the accumulation of leaf-mould and leaves which had covered it through the years. Gregory eased his tired limbs, propped his back against the bank and produced his cigarettes. They shielded Charlton’s lighter and lit up. As the flame was flicked out the surrounding darkness closed in about them once more, seeming blacker than ever. After smoking in silence for a little they recovered somewhat from their exertions and began to feel the cold. Charlton remarked upon it bitterly.
Gregory grunted. “Well, it’s November, remember, and we’re darned lucky that there’s no snow. They had snow in the war zone over a fortnight ago, and that’s hundreds of miles further south than this place. On my last trip into Germany I came through the Maginot and Siegfried Lines disguised as a German private, and my God the cold was fierce! This is nothing to it.”
Charlton turned his head towards the spot where Gregory’s cigarette glowed in the darkness. “You’re the hell of a tiger, aren’t you, making your way through war zones and starting revolutions and one thing and another!”
“I suppose I am,” Gregory grinned. He was feeling better again now that he could sit still and rest his wounded shoulder. “It’s not that I’m particularly brave—certainly no braver than an airman like yourself who takes a hellish risk every time he flies over enemy territory; it’s just that I get a lot of kick out of pitting my wits against those of other people. But, to be quite honest, I never take a chance of getting hurt, unless I absolutely have to.”
“Nonsense!” Charlton laughed. “What about tonight when you had the bright idea of lamming me over the head with the heel of your shoe in order that you could crash the plane and get back to that girl of yours?”
“Oh well, that was rather different. You were quite right when you said that I was in love with her; and anyone who’s in love is crazy.”
“That’s a good excuse but I’ve a feeling that you’re the sort of chap who would have acted just as crazily if it had been some job of work which you felt you had to get on with, instead of a woman, that made you so anxious to get back to Berlin.”
“Perhaps. Just all depends how important the job was; but you can take my word for it in the normal way I’m an extraordinarily cautious person. ‘He who fights and runs away’—that’s my motto. By sticking to it I’ve managed to live through the hell of a lot of trouble to the ripe old age of thirty-nine.”
“Well done, Methuselah! Then you’re fourteen years ahead of me. But I bet I’ll never live to make up the leeway—not with this filthy war on.”
“Since you feel like that tonight’s little affair may yet prove the best thing that could have happened to you. If we are caught you’ll be interned, and safe for the duration.”
“Thanks. But the idea doesn’t appeal. I’d rather continue to lend a hand against little old ‘Itler. Besides, if we’re caught, what about you?”
“Oh, I’ll be shot; because I’m not a member of one of the fighting Services but a secret agent.”
“Aren’t you a bit scared? I mean—our chances don’t seem up to much, do they?”
“Frankly, no. We’re faced with two major liabilities which are going to make it extremely difficult for us to get clean away. Firstly, my wound, which prevents our travelling swiftly. I’m afraid it’s very inflamed and there’s no doubt that I ought really to lie up for at least two or three days without moving at all. Then there’s the fact that you can’t speak German.”
“Our clothes are a bit of a give-away, too.”
“Yes. At a push I could pass in a crowd, since this is a German officer’s greatcoat that I’m wearing; but your leather kit won’t be easy to laugh off, as they’re certain to be looking for two English airmen. Fortunately, though, they didn’t see us at all clearly so they can’t issue our descriptions and, of course, they haven’t got the faintest idea of the identity of the people in the plane that they shot down.”
“Perhaps tomorrow we may run across some farm-labourer whose things I could buy or, if necessary, take off him by force,” Charlton suggested.
“Yes; or we may be able to beg, borrow or steal a change of clothing.”
“The devil of it is that first thing in the morning those damned soldiers and the police will be beating these woods with bloodhounds.”
Gregory shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. They’ll beat the woods all right, but not with bloodhounds. For a bloodhound to be any help you’ve got to give it some article of clothing that’s been worn by the person you’re hunting, so that it can get the scent, and they’ve got nothing of that kind in their possession. Anyhow, time enough to face tomorrow’s troubles when tomorrow comes. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
They stretched out in the ditch side by side, pillowing their heads on their handkerchiefs spread out over scraped-up piles of leaves. The silence of the wood was broken only by the occasional scurrying of small animals in the undergrowth as they went about their nightly business. Once Gregory spotted a pair of tiny bright eyes gleaming at him out of the blackness but at his first movement the little animal scampered away in quick alarm. The cold was intense and they would have suffered from it severely if both of them had not been very warmly clad. As it was, it kept them from sleep for some time although they buried their hands in their arm-pits and their faces deep in the turned-up collars of their coats; but at last they dropped off from sheer exhaustion.
When they awoke the pale light of the chill November dawn was just filtering through the naked branches of the trees. Cold, cramped and stiff, they sat up to peer about them. From the gully in which they lay they could not see more than a dozen yards in any direction or any sign of a break in the wood.
Charlton shivered and said miserably: “Oh God! Then it wasn’t a nightmare! We really were shot down and are on the run.”
Gregory gave an “Ouch!” of pain as he moved. His wound had set stiff during the night and as he lifted his left arm a violent pain ran through his shoulder.
“You’ve said it!” he replied through gritted teeth. “It’s no dream you’re having, but a lovely, real-life adventure.”
“Adventure be damned! What wouldn’t I give for a cup of tea, breakfast and a hot bath!”
“Why not wish for caviare, a suite at the Ritz and Cleopatra smiling at you from a large double-bed, while you’re about it?” said Gregory. “You’re just as likely to get one as the other.”
Standing up, Freddie Charlton stretched himself. His fair, boyish face now showed little of the strain that he had been through the previous night, youth and vitality having quickly restored him to his normal physical well-being, but his grey eyes were anxious as he stared down at Gregory.
“Well? You’re the Fuehrer in this little show; so you’d better think of something. We can’t stay here for ever without food or drink. What d’you suggest that we should do?”
Gregory wriggled a large flask out of his hip-pocket. “He who drinks, dines,” he misquoted gravely, “and this is very good brandy-and-water. Take a pull to warm yourself up. It’s much too early to expect me to do any thinking yet, though. My brain doesn’t start to tick over until after ten and, unless my watch has stopped, it’s only about six-thirty; which is a revolting hour for any civilised being to be awake at all.”
Freddie looked at Gregory curiously. He was often up at six himself and would long since have broken his neck flying if he had not had his wits about him just as much at that hour as later in the day. He was not certain if Gregory was seeking to impress him, by an apparently casual contempt for the danger they were in, or if he was a lazy, cynical devil who refused to be hurried into action—as was in fact the case—but he refrained from comment.
Having taken a couple of big gulps from the flask he exclaimed: “Ah, that’s better!” and, handing it back, went on: “Well, last night we decided that our first job must be to get some other sort of kit by robbing a labourer or a cottage or something, so the sooner we start moving the better.”
“That’s the idea; but I’m not doing any moving for the time being,” Gregory replied. “As you’re feeling so energetic, by all means go and have a look round, but for God’s sake don’t get yourself lost so that you can’t find your way back to me! Otherwise, as you can’t speak any German, you’ll be completely sunk. Incidentally, you might keep a look-out for a pond or a stream where I can bathe-this wretched wound of mine before it starts to go gangrenous.”
“Right,” Freddie nodded, and he set off through the trees.
He was away for nearly an hour and when he got back he found that Gregory was sound asleep again. On being woken Gregory explained that he considered that his time was best occupied in getting as much rest as possible. He then inquired the result of Charlton’s expedition.
“I’ve found a stream not very far from here where you can bathe your wound,” replied the airman, “but the water is absolutely icy. It sent cold shivers down my spine when I had a dip in it.”
“D’you mean you stripped and went in?” Gregory asked, aghast.
“Yes. What is there so surprising about that?”
“Well, cleanliness may be next to godliness, in which case I rank with the Twelve Apostles when I’m leading a normal existence, but if you take my tip you’ll go dirty while we’re on the run. Nothing is calculated to lower one’s powers of mental resistance so much as the immersion of the body in ice-cold water. Still, I suppose you’re one of those hardy blokes. You must have missed the radio announcer this morning when you did your daily dozen.”
Freddie flushed slightly. “I believe in keeping fit. A chap can’t keep fit without regular exercise.”
“Rot!” said Gregory. “From my infancy upwards I abhorred all ball-games and for the past twenty years I haven’t lifted a finger that I didn’t have to, yet my muscles are like whip-cord. If you once start you have to keep it up, young feller; and think of the hours that wastes in a lifetime! If you don’t, you suddenly go flabby and are fit for nothing by the time you’re my age. But let’s skip it. What else did you find?”
“I went back to the road and there’s a row of cottages about half a mile along it, to the left, but they’re on the far side, on the open grassland, so I didn’t dare to go nearer them for fear of being seen.”
“How far are we from the road?”
“About 150 yards. After I’d been to the road I worked my way back again to find out how deep the wood was; at a rough guess I should say it’s a good mile and a half from here before you come out on the other side.”
“What sort of country lies beyond it?”
“There’s a big open space with more grassland and a bit of plough, then more woods running up a slope to westwards. Just on the edge of this one, though, there’s a fair-sized country-house, so we’d probably be spotted from that if we tried to advance across the open.”
“Well, we won’t—for today, at all events. But we must find a better place than this where we can lie doggo as it’s pretty certain they’ll send out troops to beat this wood for us. First, though, you’d better lead me to that stream you found.”
Gregory got slowly to his feet and together they ploughed their way through the thick undergrowth until they reached a shallow pool formed by a little rippling brook beside which Gregory sat down and Charlton helped him to remove his greatcoat. The blood from the wound had dried stiff on his jacket so Freddie had to cut the cloth away with his penknife and the next twenty minutes were exceedingly painful ones for Gregory.
He sat there without uttering a sound while the airman gradually soaked off the pieces of cloth and shirt which had adhered to the wound, bathed it clean with the cool spring-water, bandaged it with the torn-off tail of Gregory’s shirt, got the remains of his jacket on again, his greatcoat over it, and made a rough sling out of his own muffler to carry the arm that was affected. By the time he had done Gregory was grey-faced, sweating profusely and near to fainting, but afterwards he sat quite still for about ten minutes, had a cigarette and then declared himself ready to set off again.
Freddie Charlton was considerably impressed by Gregory’s stoical resistance to the acute agony that he must have suffered. He could not yet make up his mind as to whether he liked him or not, but it was abundantly clear that his lean, cynical companion possessed an ample supply of both mental and physical courage and he could not help realising that he might have been infinitely worse off had he had many other men that he could think of with him in this desperate situation.
Yet it irritated him that Gregory should be taking things so calmly. It was now past eight o’clock so it was quite certain that by this time troops would be on their way from the antiaircraft camp to search for them, if not already in the wood. To remain where they were would expose them to imminent risk of capture and in any case he did not see how they were to avoid it for long without a change of clothes and food. At the thought of food he realised how hungry he was and said:
“I don’t know how you feel but I’m simply starving.”
“Let’s make for that house you mentioned,” replied Gregory, getting to his feet. “November is a poor month to try to live on the land but we might find something edible in the kitchen-garden. Patching up my wound took longer than I bargained for and the search-parties will be after us soon.”
“I’m glad you realise that at last,” said Freddie stiffly.
“Oh, there’ll be time enough to scrounge some sort of breakfast first and to run from the Germans afterwards,” Gregory grinned. parodying Drake and the famous game of bowls, as they set off.
Most of the leaves had already fallen from the trees so they could see a fair way ahead of them when they were standing upright; but the undergrowth was still green and provided excellent cover ready to hand should they encounter anyone. Picking their way between the brambles they moved cautiously forward, keeping their eyes and ears alert for any sound or movement which might indicate the approach of another human being. After half an hour Freddie pointed through the trees to a wooden barn that had just become discernible. With a jerk of his head Gregory indicated that they should incline to the left and they proceeded still more warily until they reached the edge of the wood.
Looking right they could then see a group of buildings which consisted of a small, white, two-storeyed manor-house, probably built in the early part of the last century, and a number of outbuildings. No-one appeared to be about and the whole place lay silent in the cold autumn morning; so Gregory began to lead the way through the fringe of the wood towards it. After a few minutes they came to the back of the nearest barn and, creeping round its side, found that it fronted on a farm-yard. Half a dozen pigs were guzzling in a sty and a troop of long-necked geese were waddling importantly towards a pond. Turning right they passed behind the next barn and found a gate leading into the kitchen-garden. It ran along at the back of the house and was partly orchard so they were able to advance along its far end screened from the windows by the branches of the short fruit-trees.
Gregory gave a grunt of satisfaction on noticing that some late pears still hung among the withered brown leaves and as swiftly as possible they filled their pockets with the fruit. Charlton pulled half a dozen carrots from a near-by bed and Gregory snatched two heads of celery. Suddenly the clatter of a pail being put down somewhere near the house broke the stillness. They started as though electrified and at a quick, almost noiseless run made off into the wood, which ran right up to the end of the garden.
“Pears, celery and raw carrots,” Freddie sniffed, as they eased their pace and drew breath. “Not much of a breakfast, is it?”
“Might be a darned sight worse,” Gregory replied. “Anyhow, before we think of eating we must try to find a good, snug hide-out. The troops must be beating the wood further in by now and if we don’t get to earth soon we’ll be captured. Time’s getting on; we’ve got to hurry.”
For some time they searched, hoping to come upon a shallow cave or bramble-covered gully in which they might conceal themselves; but without success. The wood was curiously and depressingly uniform. By lying flat they could have hidden themselves in the bushes at almost any spot from a casual wayfarer who passed within a dozen yards, but the cover was insufficient to prevent their being seen by deliberate searchers who came nearer.
“The only thing for it is to get up a tree,” said Gregory at last. “That’s not going to be easy with one of my arms out of action but we’ll manage it somehow.”
Swiftly, anxiously, straining their ears for sounds of the beaters, who they felt might advance upon them at any minute now, they examined a number of conifers, since the leaves on the other trees were too few to afford them decent cover, and selected a pine which had three branches coming out from its trunk, all nearly on the same level and about twenty feet from the ground. Climbing it was a muscle-wrenching struggle. But Charlton was six feet one in height and strong; he managed to swing himself up on to a lower branch and to haul Gregory up after him; and by further efforts they succeeded in reaching the higher branches which they had chosen for a roosting-place.
Their perch was far from comfortable and it seemed doubtful if they would be able to maintain their position there for any great length of time, but Gregory insisted that they must do so at least until the search which they felt certain was in progress had passed by them. Having settled themselves in their hiding-place with considerable relief they munched their pears disconsolately and waited in uneasy suspense.
Barely ten minutes later they caught the first sound of the men who had been sent out to hunt them down. Evidently the search had started from the road and was being made with German thoroughness; otherwise it would not have taken so long for the troops to work right through to almost the far extremity of the wood. Occasional calls came floating through the chill silence as the searchers approached and now and then the blast of a whistle by which an officer was evidently directing them; then came the crackling of twigs and the snapping of brambles as the heavy-footed troopers kicked their way through the undergrowth.
Gregory and Charlton remained deadly still, fearful that the faintest movement would draw attention to their hiding-place; since a pine tree, although the best that they could find at that season, does not afford good cover and anyone standing immediately beneath it had only to glance up to see them.
The flat cap of a grey-clad soldier appeared below. He was carrying a rifle with fixed bayonet slung over his shoulder and halted for a moment just under the tree. Suddenly Freddie felt a frantic desire to cough but managed to convert the spasm into a gurgle, which he half-stifled by clapping his hand over his mouth.
With acute anxiety Gregory stared down at the soldier fearing he had heard the noise that Charlton had made. If the man looked up the only possible way of preventing him from giving a triumphant shout, which would bring his comrades running, was to drop right on top of him. The weight of another body falling from twenty feet would smash him to the ground and with luck knock him out. Balancing himself carefully Gregory prepared to make that desperate plunge. His wound was temporarily forgotten in the tenseness of the moment but he was quick to realise that as the soldier’s bayonet was sticking up just beside his head anyone who fell upon him from above must inevitably fall on the point of that too. Nevertheless, his decision had been taken instantly, since he felt that he owed it to Charlton to give him this desperate chance of remaining undiscovered and getting away afterwards.
For nearly a minute the man stood there, directly below them, glancing from side to side; then he moved on again, peering right and left into the near-by bushes as he went. Gregory stifled a sigh of relief and, relaxing, leaned back against the tree-trunk.
Gradually the sounds of the search receded and the two fugitives were able to ease their positions; but soon afterwards the searchers reached the edge of the wood and, turning, began to come back. Once again Gregory and Freddie held their breath as they listened to the thrusting of feet through the undergrowth and the occasional calls of one man to another; but by half-past ten silence had fallen once more and it seemed that they had escaped discovery, at least for the time being.
They were more cheerful now as they argued that the gunners who had brought them down could not know that one of them was wounded; having searched the wood thoroughly would have convinced them that the fugitives were no longer there and, assuming them to have got much further afield, they would not bother to search it again. To be on the safe side the fugitives remained up the tree and as time began to hang interminably they endeavoured to pass it more quickly by swapping reminiscences.
Gregory told Charlton the fantastic story of his adventures during the past two months which had culminated in his enabling the German Army leaders to stage a revolt against the Nazis. Freddie listened with amazed attention, not quite knowing whether to believe it all or not; but as he himself had secretly landed Gregory two months earlier outside Cologne and had picked him up again the previous night outside Berlin he had definite evidence that the lean, sinewy man beside him was not entirely romancing.
The airman’s own adventures in making his secret night-landings in war-time Germany would have thrilled most people but he felt that they were mere child’s-play compared with Gregory’s impersonation of a Gestapo Chief and extraordinary series of escapes; besides which, he was a modest person so he said little of them. Perhaps, however, that was partly because his thoughts were centred about a girl, one Angela Fordyce, to whom he had been engaged to be married before the war.
From his description of her it appeared that Angela was the world’s prize wonder, but Gregory wrote that down by about one hundred per cent. Privately he decided that she was probably quite a pleasant-looking brunette with reasonably good blue eyes and all the nice, clean, healthy instincts that an English girl should have, without any particular brain or wit; and so, admirably suited as a wife to the tall, grey-eyed, fair-haired young man who sat precariously perched upon the branch next to him.
It seemed, however, that Freddie Charlton had bungled the affair badly. Unlike many men of his kind he had not considered the war a good excuse for rushing into marriage. On the contrary; he maintained that it was damnably unfair to any girl to marry her, and probably land her with a baby, if there were a reasonably good prospect of being killed oneself within the year; particularly when the girl had been brought up expensively and one had no private money of one’s own and so could leave her only the pension of a Flight-Lieutenant. In consequence, knowing that she would not agree with him he had taken the quixotic step of writing to her on the outbreak of the war to break off his engagement, without giving any reason.
Not unnaturally, in Gregory’s view, Angela had been annoyed and had demanded an explanation, upon which Freddie had made bad worse by writing to say that he had come to the conclusion that they were not suited to each other. On learning of this his best friend, one Bill Burton, had persuaded him that he had acted like a fool and had been extremely unfair both to the girl and to himself. Burton had then gone to see Angela in the hope of straightening the wretched muddle out, only to find that she had left England the day before and that it was therefore impossible for him to execute his pacific mission.
As Angela’s father was in the Consular Service his being posted, without warning, to Amsterdam, and her sudden departure with him overseas, was not particularly surprising, but it had had the effect of erecting a new barrier; and, Burton’s mission having been sabotaged by fate, Freddie had felt that having made his bed he had better lie on it, so had refrained from writing to her. But he was still sick with the pain he had inflicted on himself and bitterly regretted that he had not written, especially now that it looked likely that he would be interned in Germany for the rest of the war and therefore debarred from any possibility of running into Angela again if she came on a visit to London, when they might perhaps have had an explanation leading to a renewal of their happiness.
Being an eminently practical person, and no mean psychologist, Gregory forbore from voicing the obvious, meaningless platitudes and, instead, suggested that if only they could succeed in escaping over the frontier into Holland Freddie might see his Angela much sooner than if he had remained in London.
This cheered the airman up considerably and, as it was intended to do gave him an additional incentive to use every ounce of his resolution in avoiding capture. He remained unaware that, the Dutch frontier being many hundreds of miles distant, Gregory did not mean to try to get out of Germany that way and, in fact, had no intention whatever of attempting to leave Germany at all until he had found Erika von Epp and could take her with him.
They stuck it out up in the tree as long as they could bear the discomfort but by early afternoon their posteriors were so sore from the nobbly branches that they were forced to abandon their hiding-place and come to ground.
Freddie, who found garden-produce most unsatisfactory fare for a November day spent out in the open, suggested that they should pay another visit to the farm-yard for the purpose of stealing a chicken or a goose, which they might later roast over a wood-fire, but Gregory shook his head.
“It’s quite on the cards that the people who were hunting us this morning have left a certain number of pickets scattered about the wood, for today at all events. If we light a fire the sight of it or the smell of the smoke might give us away; but the idea of roast goose positively makes my mouth water so we’ll see what we can do about that tomorrow.”
“Good God!” Charlton exclaimed. “We shall freeze in this climate if we have to spend another night without anything warm inside us.”
“I’m sorry, old chap, but we’ve got to stick it. My fault entirely but I daren’t move on yet. This shoulder of mine is giving me hell and I’m afraid I’d only pass out on you if I attempted a cross-country march tonight.”
Charlton stared at him with sudden concern. “Yes; you’re looking pretty flushed; I believe you’re running a temperature.”
“I am,” Gregory replied.
“Then—then perhaps we’d better give ourselves up. I can’t possibly look after you properly while we’re in hiding like this and your wound will only get worse if it doesn’t have skilled attention.”
“It’s nothing much, you saw that yourself when you bathed it this morning; only a little round hole through the fleshy part of the shoulder. One of the muscles is torn but it’ll soon heal up providing I don’t exert myself for a day or two. If we can lie doggo in this wood for another forty-eight hours I’ll be all right. Anyhow, I’m damned if I’m going to chuck my hand in. Come on, let’s try to find a new hide-out while daylight lasts.”
About six hundred yards from the house they found a small ravine, which was even more thickly covered with undergrowth than the rest of the wood, where they would be well concealed from anyone who did not walk right on to them, and sitting down in it they made themselves as comfortable as they could. Gregory lay back and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep but his wound pained him too much and he could only hope that lying still might cause his fever to abate. Charlton sat beside him, miserable and dejected but keeping his ears strained for approaching footsteps so that they should not be caught unawares.
The afternoon drifted by and shadows began to fall. No sound disturbed the stillness and Freddie thought that Gregory was asleep until he roused up and suggested that they might as well make their evening meal. They ate a few more of the pears and some celery but having tried the raw carrots threw them aside as too unpalatable. A swig apiece from Gregory’s flask completed the unsatisfactory repast, after which they settled down again into an uneasy silence. The evening seemed interminable as although the November day had drawn to an early close an occasional glance at the luminous dials of their watches showed them that they still had a long time to go before it could be considered night.
Towards nine o’clock Gregory became light-headed and began to mutter to himself in delirium. Freddie was at his wits’ end. There was nothing that he could do to aid his companion or allay the evidently rising fever. With his fellow-fugitive in such a state he felt that there was little chance of maintaining their freedom for any length of time but he knew how determined Gregory was not to give in while there was the least hope of escape, and now that the possibility of reaching Holland had been dangled before his eyes he was doubly reluctant himself to take any step which would definitely land him in a concentration-camp for the rest of the war.
Towards eleven Gregory ceased his incoherent muttering and dropped into a troubled slumber, so Freddie decided to see that night through and take a fresh decision the following morning. If Gregory were better they could rediscuss the situation but if he were worse there would be nothing for it but to seek help by surrender.
Just as Freddie was settling himself down to sleep he heard footsteps approaching, then voices talking in German. Stiffening in immediate alarm he crouched there in the gully, his heart thudding against his ribs. Peering towards the sound he strained his eyes but in the darkness he could see nothing. The footsteps halted about a dozen yards away and there was further talking. His forehead was suddenly damp with sweat.
As he strove to silence his quickened breathing the awful urge to cough gripped him, as it had up in the tree. Closing his eyes he fought it down, but cramp got him in the leg that was doubled under him and he was forced to move it. The twigs snapped beneath him but just at that moment the rustling in the bushes came once more, and this time it was moving away. After a further five minutes of tense listening he grew calmer and decided that they were safe again. The sweat on his brow was turning icy with the cold. With a heavy sigh he brushed it off and, settling himself, endeavoured to court forgetfulness in sleep.
When he opened his eyes the cold light of a new day showed the trees and brambles rimed in frost. It was a fairy scene but one which filled him only with fresh dismay. He lifted the white-powdered collar of Gregory’s greatcoat and saw that the wounded man was pale but breathing evenly. As he sat up he heard a faint noise just behind him.
It came from the direction in which he had heard the Germans speaking in the darkness the night before. Instantly Gregory’s suggestion that the gunners might leave pickets posted in the wood flashed into his mind. Swinging round he very cautiously raised his head and peered between the thorny strands of the blackberry bushes.
Something grey caught his eye; it lifted a little and he saw the flat, round brim of a German officer’s cap. He tried to duck back; but it was too late. A lean, grey-moustached face had risen above the brambles and a pair of hard blue eyes were staring straight into his. As he instinctively rose to his feet the German stood up and his hand was already on the automatic at his belt.