geant grunted. "Well, that's a sight different.
Keep going. You're practically there, mates."

The sergeant stepped back and cupped big hands to his mouth.

"Make way!" he thundered at the road choked mass of British troops.
"Ambulance! Make way there, you chaps! Ambulance! Give them the horn,
lad. That'll make 'em jump."

The sergeant barked the last at Dave as the ambulance started forward.
Dave got the car in high then held his hand on the horn. Freddy got out
on the running board and started shouting, "Make way for an ambulance!"
at the top of his voice. For two or three awful seconds Dave was afraid
that the soldiers were going to refuse to move. But the shouted word,
"Ambulance!" finally did the trick. They shuffled off to both sides and
left a path down the middle of the road. Driving with one hand and
keeping his other on the horn, Dave steered the ambulance down that path
until a bomb shattered railroad bridge stopped him. There was no need of
going farther anyway.

They had reached the rail junction, or at least what was left of it.
Eastward from the bridge the track was just so much twisted steel, but
westward from the bridge it had not been touched, by some strange
miracle. There was a long train of some twenty cars on the track with an
engine at the far end. Dimmed lights were moving around all over the
place like fire-flies on a muggy night. The murmur of many voices filled
the air, and as Dave got his eyes accustomed to the scene he saw that
long lines of battle weary soldiers were climbing into the cars. And
then out of nowhere a squad of soldiers with white bands on their tunic
sleeves swooped down on the ambulance.

"Shut off your motor, mate!" a voice shouted. "You won't be needing it
any more. Step lively, you lads. Easy with the poor blighters, now.
That's the way."

Before Dave and Freddy could climb stiff legged down from the ambulance
the white banded group of soldiers had the rear doors open and were
gently but swiftly lifting out the wounded on stretchers and carrying
them to the train. Nobody talked. Even the wounded made no sound.
Everybody seemed to realize that all that counted was speed, and they
were concentrating on that alone. Dave watched for a minute or so and
then went up to the soldier who had given the orders.

"Where's the train going?" he asked.

"Dunkirk, unless the Jerry fliers stop us," the soldier replied without
looking at him. "Any more of these chaps coming along