Day after day the wounded from the front were being received in Dunkirk, Calais and other places along the coast. They were usually taken further on as soon as their immediate wants could be attended to.
In many cases the stricken soldiers would be carried by train to the large Red Cross hospitals in and around Paris. Then besides this, on many a night a steamer would start from Dunkirk across the Channel bearing hundreds of British back to their own shores, where they could receive the best of care among their people. These voyages were made when possible in the gloom of night, and at full speed, in order to avoid the risk of having the vessel torpedoed by lurking German submarines, ready to deliver crushing blows to her enemy’s ships.
Frank stood in the crowd and watched the transfer of the poor fellows to the temporary hospital. They were mostly British soldiers who had received their injuries while trying to hold the trenches against some fierce drive on the part of Bavarians or Prussians.
As he saw one after another swathed figure borne on stretchers from the ambulance motors into the hospital, Frank felt a sense of pity for all these who were suffering on account of this terrible war, no matter on which side they chanced to be.
He finally turned away, not caring to see any more such pitiful sights. He marveled at the brave front displayed by even the most dreadfully wounded men, who tried to greet the crowd and smiled through the mud that plastered their faces.
Remembering what he and Billy had discovered in connection with the gathering of a new army back of the German trenches, Frank expected that in a few days there was bound to be a greater stream of wounded pouring into Dunkirk than ever before, because a desperate attack was doubtless contemplated.
When he learned from Major Nixon that some of the Allies’ aviators had brought in the news concerning that gathering host of gray-clad soldiers, Frank realized that he could speak of it without reservation, since it would not be giving information as to the enemy’s contemplated plans.
Remembering one more errand which needed his attention, Frank, after leaving the vicinity of the Red Cross hospital, had immediately started to look after it. He was through with it and actually starting for the hangar when once again he became aware of the fact that a sudden confusion had broken out. People were shouting in an excited manner, as though a mad dog had broken loose and was coming down the main street of Dunkirk.
There was no difficulty in learning what was the matter. That wild cry of alarm was becoming very familiar to the ears of the worried citizens of Dunkirk these stormy days.
“The Germans are coming! The Germans are coming!”
In French and in English this shout was being carried along, constantly added to by scores of voices. People rushed pell-mell this way and that, many dodging down into cellars, as though seeking safety from some terror that was likely to descend on the coast city like a cyclone.
Those who were not yet running had their necks craned, and their eyes turned upward toward the northeast. Frank stepped over to where he could see better, and then he also “rubbered,” as Billy would have called it.
On numerous occasions the German aviators had conducted an organized raid on Dunkirk, dropping dozens of terrible bombs in what seemed like an indiscriminate fashion. Possibly these were in the main intended to damage the camps or accumulated stores of the British legions; but if so the aim of the men in the Taubes was singularly bad, for the majority of the bombs had thus far either exploded in the open streets, or shattered private houses.
Many innocent persons, including women and children, had suffered from these explosives, and it was not singular then that whenever the cry was raised that the “Germans were coming,” meaning a raiding flock of aëroplanes, there would ensue a mad panic in the streets of the French city.
“There are several moving things over there away up in the heavens,” Frank told himself as he gazed in more or less excitement. “Even without a glass I’m almost ready to say they can’t be Taubes.”
He stood there watching and waiting until the soaring objects drew closer, when their true identity could be discovered.
Frank, being an aviator himself, quickly detected certain things that the common observer might never have discovered; and which told him the half dozen specks in the sky that February morning were birds and not aëroplanes.
“Some gulls flying high,” he murmured as he watched. “Yes, there they circle around, which aviators bent on bombarding the city and then running off in a hurry would never think of doing.”
He told those near him that there was nothing to fear, as the suspected Taubes were only harmless birds. The cheering word was passed along from mouth to mouth, and some of those who only a few minutes before were looking very peaked and white commenced to laugh, trying to make out that they knew all along the advancing specks were only birds.
By degrees even the shivering inmates of the cellars learned that it was a false alarm, and ventured to appear again.
“And I suppose this happens several times every day,” Frank mused as he watched the arteries of traffic once more begin to flow naturally. “While little damage that amounts to anything has been done by the bombs, the coming of the Germans is looked forward to with dread. I suppose if a flier happened to be brought down with a well directed shot from a gun it would give the people more pleasure than anything they could wish for.”
It struck him that possibly the other boys might have heard something of all this excitement and would be worried about him. So Frank stepped into a store he knew of and proceeded to get the hangar on the wire. There was some little difficulty at first, as though a good many people were trying to communicate with their homes for some purpose or other. Finally a voice called in good English:
“Hello! that you, Frank?”
“Yes, that’s who it is, Billy. I only called you up thinking you might have heard all the shouting, and wonder what it was.”
“Oh! some of the guards here guessed it, and we’ve been watching the gulls through our field glass. But how about the other business, Frank; is it all fixed?”
“I’m coming back right away,” Frank told him. “Soon after I join you, there will be something doing. I’ll tell you the rest when I get there; but everything is going on O. K. So-long, Billy. Keep watching, for they’re ready to try everything under the sun to gain their end. I’ve got a new story for you when I come.”
Frank by this action had not only accomplished his purpose of relieving the minds of his chums, but at the same time he had made sure that things were unchanged at the hangar.
Determined not to take any risks that could be avoided, Frank waited until he saw a battery of field-pieces moving along the road that led close by the gate of the hangar. Perhaps the guns had come over from England on the previous night, and being badly needed at the front, were starting forth.
This was the opportunity he wanted. By keeping alongside the guns and caissons he could defy any hidden danger. If there were spies waiting to waylay him in some rather lonely spot, just as they had Pudge on the preceding night, the presence of those young khaki-clad warriors seated on the gun carriages and ammunition carts would foil them.
There was no trouble. Possibly Frank might not have been held up even though he chose to take the walk without any protection; but when in doubt it was always his policy to “play safe.”
When he again found himself in the hangar, the others were eager to hear what he had promised to tell them.
“You’ve been having another scrape of some sort, like as not,” ventured Billy, pretending to look morose, as though he begrudged his comrade that privilege while he and Pudge were only sitting there killing time.
Frank thereupon related how he had been drawn into rendering assistance when the said-to-be wife of an apparent citizen of Dunkirk, who spoke excellent English without a French accent, appeared to faint close to the door of her own home.
The other boys were thrilled by what seemed like a narrow escape on the part of their comrade.
“Ganders and gridirons, Frank!” exploded Pudge after listening with distended eyes to the account given by the returned chum. “That was a narrow squeak for you, as sure as anything.”
“Yes,” added Billy, “they had it all laid out to trap you. If you’d dared to step inside that open door I reckon you’d have been tapped over the head, and when you came to again it would be to find yourself in some old damp and moldy cellar. I give you credit for tumbling to their smart game, Frank.”
“Bayous and bullfrogs, they certainly do want to get hold of this bully machine of ours the worst kind, and that’s a fact!” spluttered Pudge.
“But tell us about the Major, and what he agreed to do?” asked Billy.
“It’s all fixed just as we figured it,” replied Frank. “I want this man here to understand what has been done, so come over to where you’ve got him.”
The prisoner had been watching them eagerly. He must have guessed that Frank had been gone to settle about his fate, and, if ever a man looked nervous, he did, as the three boys advanced toward him.
“Listen to something I want you to hear,” said Frank. “We know what you are, and that if you were given in charge as a spy you’d likely be shot by to-morrow morning. But we are American boys, and not at all inclined to have the blood of a German honestly serving his Fatherland on our hands. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Yes, go on,” muttered the man, brightening up, though still anxious.
“I have arranged it with the authorities that you will only be looked on as a petty thief. You will be held in close confinement for a few days until it is certain that any information you may have picked up while here in this building will be useless. Then they will take you out of the city and set you free, with a warning never to be seen here again if you value your life.”
Now the man’s face lighted up in a smile.
“That is much better,” he said, after drawing a long breath of relief. “We thought you were on the side of the Allies, because you meant to turn it over to the French Government.”
“You must remember,” said Frank impressively, “that this machine had been over here, boxed but not assembled, for months before the war opened. My company had a contract with the French people, who insisted on representatives being sent across to demonstrate the new flier; otherwise they threatened to seize it, and make duplicates without our receiving any remuneration—the necessities of war. That is why we have come, and are even now trying to carry out the terms of that agreement. You can tell your people that only for this our company would not dream of making aëroplanes for one side or the other. They could not be shipped out of the United States, anyway.”
“I understand your position,” said the man; “and while it explains many things it does not change our design to prevent the enemy from profiting by your improved type of machine. If by any means it can be stolen or destroyed we believe we are only doing our duty by the Fatherland in risking our lives to attempt it.”
“Well, here comes the patrol to take you to the city prison; and, remember, you are to insist that you entered our hangar to steal, not to spy on us,” Frank told him.