hell blasted tanks rested in soft
ground at crazy angles, some of them blown wide open, and all of them of
no more use to anybody.

"Gosh, like driving through a junk yard!" Dave grunted and unconsciously
slowed down the ambulance. "What do you suppose happened? Gee, that's
English stuff, too. See the markings?"

"Yes," Freddy replied. "And I think I can guess what happened. A
retreating British column was caught here by the bombers, I think. You
can see where the craters were filled in so the rest of them could carry
on. What equipment they couldn't take, they destroyed so that the
Germans wouldn't get it. Look, Dave! There's another flashlight chap up
ahead. And he's English! I can see him clearly, now."

"Right," Dave nodded as he too caught sight of the khaki clad figure,
with an M.P. band on his arm, standing in the middle of the road.

He slipped the ambulance out of gear and let it roll to a stop and stuck
his head out the door window.

"We've got wounded here!" he said as the officer moved forward. "They
turned us off onto this road, back a few miles. Said the next officer we
met would give us instructions."

"More wounded?" the officer echoed in an exasperated voice. "I seriously
doubt if there'll be room. But get along. First turn left, and two miles
straight. A railroad junction there, and still working, I certainly
hope! They'll take your men. Now, chase along with you!"

"What happened here?" Dave asked and reached for the gear shift lever.

"The worst!" the officer snapped, and gestured with his hand. "Stukas
caught a whole battalion. Nasty business! Now, chase, do you hear?"

Dave didn't wait to argue about that. He sent the car rolling forward
and kept his eyes open for the turn to the left. He came to it presently
and turned off. It was also more or less untouched by bombs so he could
keep his speed steady. In almost no time they came upon a whole army of
British soldiers. They jammed the road and overflowed on both sides.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes were turned their way as their headlights cut
through the night. A soldier with sergeant's chevrons on his sleeves
rushed up to them.

"Shut off those blasted lights, you fool!" he roared. "You want the
Jerry planes to ... Good grief, a couple of _kids!_ What's this?"

"Ambulance with wounded from Lille, Sergeant," Freddy called out to him.
"The officer back there told us to take them to the rail junction. How
far is it?"

"Wounded, eh?" the ser