e back to Lille for another load of
wounded. Fifty trips? A hundred trips? He had no idea. Maybe this was
his one thousandth trip. Was he asleep or awake? He wasn't sure of that,
either. His body had stopped protesting against the aches and pains long
ago. He simply didn't feel anything any more; didn't think anything. He
only acted. He drove ... and drove ... and drove. Nothing else
mattered. Nothing else mattered but doing his share to make sure that
not a single helpless wounded soldier was captured by the hordes of Nazi
troops streaming across northern France and Belgium in a mad race to cut
off the British from the last open Channel port, Dunkirk.

As he took off the emergency brake he became conscious of somebody
climbing into the seat beside him. He turned his head to stare into
Freddy Farmer's haggard, dirt streaked face.

"What's the matter, Freddy?" he mumbled. "What are you doing here?"

"Start her off, Dave," came the dull answer. "This is the last load. I'm
riding with you. The Captain and his staff are using my ambulance. Man,
but I'm tired!"

"Check," Dave grunted and shifted into first. "The last load, huh? And
it's just getting dark. Well, anyway, we licked 'em. The Nazis won't
find anything there. Lean back and try to get a nap, Freddy."

"And you perhaps fall asleep at that wheel, and tip us into a ditch?"
Freddy said with a forced chuckle. "No thanks. I'll stay awake and try
to keep you that way, too. By the by, though, Dave. You've made more
trips than anybody. Want me to drive this one?"

"Not a chance!" Dave said and suddenly realized that he was laughing
for the first time in hours. "I still remember that ride you gave me in
that Belgian scouting car. Nix. I'll do the driving. You just relax,
Freddy. But, boy, will I be glad when this trip is over!"

"I'll be jolly well pleased, myself, you can bet!" Freddy murmured and
stretched out his legs. "I think I shall sleep for another eight days,
and not care a darn what the blasted Nazis do about it."

For the next twenty minutes that was the last spoken between the two.
They were both too tired even to talk. Besides, there was little to talk
about save the experiences they had had on the road. Those they could
save until another day. And after all there was still this trip to
complete. And so they rode along in silence. The sun slid down over the
western lip of the world, and night and the Germans came sweeping up
from the east. Dave kept his