bottom was muddy and the water came up to their necks. With chattering teeth they reached the far bank and began moving along in the black shadows next to overhanging grass.
Slowly the boys inched forward, being careful not to send ripples out across the water. As they neared the sentry post the water was well lighted from electric floodlights set on each bank. Stan halted and flattened himself against the grass.
A sentry was standing on each bank, his rifle butt resting on the ground. Both were looking down at the canal intently. Stan pulled O’Malley close to him.
“We’ll have to get down until just our heads stick out, then inch forward,” he whispered.
“Inch away,” O’Malley whispered back. His teeth rattled louder than his words.
Stan sank down into the water and they began moving slowly ahead. Inch by inch they entered the lighted area and moved on. A water rat swam past them in the middle of the canal. It left a wide ripple behind it, and the sentries jerked up their guns. One of them laughed and picked up a rock. He tossed it at the rat. The rat dived with a loud splash. Both soldiers laughed loudly and one of them lighted a cigarette.
Stan shoved ahead a bit faster. They moved directly under the sentries and kept on going. Slowly they edged away down the stream. The light on the water became dimmer and finally faded out.
“How about crossin’ over? I’m frozen stiff,” O’Malley hissed between chattering teeth.
“O.K.,” Stan answered. They moved out into the canal and waded across. Climbing out on the bank, they sat shaking and shuddering.
“Wonder where Sim is?” O’Malley asked.
“We better wait here. They may not have moved as fast as we did.” Stan began rubbing his legs to warm them.
They heard no sounds except those coming from the post on the bank of the canal. Finally Stan moved.
“We stayed in the canal quite a long distance. They may be up or down the canal. But no matter which way, they are sure to be waiting for us. We can’t stay here because daylight will be breaking very soon. I’ll work my way back toward the border; you move the other way. When we find them, we’ll turn back and meet.”
“Good idea,” O’Malley agreed. He moved off at once.
Stan headed back along the bank of the canal. He kept as close to the edge as he dared, because he figured Sim and the German would be sitting on the bank. After going a few yards he got down on his hands and knees and crawled. He would be able to go only a few yards more because the floodlights were growing strong. In a few more minutes he could turn back and be sure Sim was downstream.
He was moving along, crawling slowly, when he felt the bank under him begin to sag and slip. With a swift effort he tried to pull himself away from the canal. The cave-in took a big slice of earth with it. Stan’s grasping hands found only torn roots and wet mud. He went over the edge and into the canal along with a half ton of earth. He and the dirt hit the water with a terrific splash.
Instantly a floodlight snapped on and swung around to sweep the canal. Stan went down in a mass of mud and water. He came up pawing and struggling. Men began shouting on the shore. Stan ducked under the icy water and plunged toward the bank. He came up against the grassy bank and shook the water out of his eyes. Both banks were swarming with soldiers.
Stan thought fast. He wanted the others to escape. They had to get away. He was getting set for another dive when the searchlight found him and pinned him to the bank like a trapped animal. Guards with machine guns covered him threateningly. He didn’t have a chance. An officer was shouting at him in German.
“Hold your fire, I’ll get out,” Stan shouted. He wanted to hold the attention of the men until his friends got away.
“A Britisher,” the officer shouted. “Get out on the bank!” His English was a bit thick but understandable.
Stan climbed out and was surrounded by armed men in an instant. He was marched up the bank and halted under the floodlight. The officer stood glaring at him.
“Where do you come from?” he demanded.
“I came out of that canal, and it was a bit chilly,” Stan answered. “I’d appreciate some dry clothing.”
“American!” the officer exclaimed. “A spy dressed in the clothes of a farmer.”
“I just borrowed these. I’m not a spy. You can check up on that.” Then Stan clamped his lips shut. If he revealed his identity now, the Germans would know where to look for O’Malley and Sim.
“A spy, no less,” the officer snapped. “Come with me.”
“Gladly,” Stan said.
He was taken to a small shack a few yards back from the canal. There was a stove in the shack and Stan edged close to it. The officer stepped to a wall phone and put through, a call. He talked quite a while and finally began to laugh loudly. After he hung up he turned to Stan.
“The colonel agrees you are a spy and a very dumb one. You will be sent to him and he will have you shot at once. It is easy to see why you Americans cannot fight the Germans. You are careless fools, all of you.”
Stan grinned. He figured the officer was the dumb one. He had not even asked Stan if there were any other men with him.
“I guess you’re right, Captain,” he said. “But if I’m to be shot I should be made comfortable. How about some dry clothes? I may contract pneumonia and die before you get to question me.”
“I will deliver you to the colonel. What he does with you is no affair of mine.” The captain opened the door and called to his men outside.
Stan walked out and a squad of four men marched him to an open car. He was shoved into the back seat and the guards climbed in, three with him and one in front. Stan was grateful for the packed condition in the rear seat, because chill air began to swirl back on him as they roared away. He got a little warmth from the soldiers crowded in with him.
Day was breaking as they moved into a city. Stan figured it was Arnhem. The car pulled up in front of a long stone building and Stan was hustled inside. He was taken into a bare room and left there alone. There was some heat in the room and he ceased shaking.
An hour passed and a tall soldier came into the room. He beckoned Stan to follow him. They walked down a hall and entered another room. Here Stan was served a bowl of potato soup. It was watery thin, but it was hot. His jailer sat watching him as he ate. When he had finished, the man nodded and got to his feet. Stan followed him down the hall again and into a room furnished as an office. A fat German colonel sat at a desk. His bloated cheeks puffed out and he burst into a hearty laugh when he saw Stan. His fat stomach heaved as he laughed, and his bristling mustache made Stan think of a walrus he once had seen in a zoo.
Stan stood waiting. For the life of him he could see nothing so funny about his personal appearance. He looked the colonel over with a critical eye. The colonel ceased laughing and regarded Stan closely.
“Lieutenant Stan Wilson, Eighth Air Force, U.S.A.,” he said softly. “But for my purposes a spy, caught creeping up on one of our outposts dressed as a German farmer.”
Stan jumped in spite of himself. The colonel knew his name. That was bad. He said nothing, knowing the colonel would explain more in detail.
“You American swine are such fools, so easy for the German mastermind to handle. But you are the prize
“Sim Jones was a spy?” Stan shot the question at the colonel.
“Sim Jones is no spy, but Herr Egbert Minter is a spy and a very clever one. He fooled you men into thinking he was Jones. You were trapped by a very clever actor, Lieutenant.” The colonel patted his stomach and smiled broadly. “I have been given a complete file upon the case along with orders to put you out of the way.”
“Why should you let us escape?” Stan asked.
“As you will not live to tell about it, I may as well enlighten you.” The colonel fairly beamed. “When Herr Minter and the redheaded lieutenant reach England, as they will, Minter will send us information as to a big raid we are sure you are planning. After Lieutenant O’Malley and Herr Minter tell your High Command how near collapse Germany is, they will make the raid with everything they have to knock us out of the war.” The colonel bent forward. “We were careful to stage many little scenes for your benefit. I am sorry only that this O’Malley person is to get through to tell how weakened Germany is within her own borders. You would have served much better.”
Stan stared at the German and his teeth clamped shut hard. “A very clever set of tricks, Colonel,” he said coldly. “But they won’t get you any place. Minter won’t be able to get a message out in time.”
