In a second I had reached the sentry-beaten path inside the wire. I glanced quickly along it in each direction. There was no sign of the sentry. I had brought a pair of leather gloves I had had in my case, and with these on my hands I parted two of the coils and stepped into the gap. I then parted the farther side of the two coils and, raising myself on tiptoe, swung my right foot over into this gap. But to bring my left foot over as well seemed an impossibility. The wire barbs were digging into me painfully. I set my teeth and lifted my left leg back and round. I thought I had done it, but a barb just caught my canvas shoes. I lost my balance and fell headlong. I caught my head on the ground — it was as hard as concrete — and there was a searing pain in my left leg.
But when I staggered to my feet I found I was clear of the wire. I listened. The still night air was silent. No-one seemed to have heard my fall. Crouching low and taking advantage of what little cover there was on that bare slope, I hurried down to the shelter of the wood. Looking back, I could see no movement. At the top of the slope there was the vague silhouette of the hut and the gun, and away to the right was the bulk of the dispersal point.
I went cautiously forward into the wood. It was pitch dark here and I had to feel my way, feeling round trees and bushes by hand. Every yard of progress seemed to take an age, but though my one desire was to get through the wood as quickly as possible to the road beyond, I steadfastly refused to be hurried by nerves.
It is a very unnerving sensation to pass from open country into a wooded place when you are going in fear of your life. For ten days I had been living on the bare hilltop of the ‘drome. I knew all the sounds of that open stretch of ruined downland. During that time I had never heard the rustle of a tree in a current of air, the scamper of a squirrel through light branches, or the movement of dried leaves and twigs caused by the night life of a wood. It was all new to me, and each sound, terrifying at first, had to be sorted out and understood before I dared move forward again.
Once, behind me, I heard the snap of a twig where something heavier than usual had pressed on it. That sound alone held me poised with one foot forward for fully a minute.
At last I made the path that ran through the centre of the wood. There was no sound apart from the faint stirring of the branches high above my head. I crossed the ten feet of open ground without a challenge. This gave me confidence and I pressed forward faster. My lack of caution brought its own reward, for I tripped over a mound of earth and only just saved myself from falling into a deep trench. There was more barbed wire beyond it, but it was just a few strands, not dannert, and quite easily negotiated.
It took time, however, and as I slipped over the last strand a twig snapped only a few yards behind me. The sound of it seemed loud in the stillness. I froze. My senses warned me that it was not one of the usual noises of the wood. A second later came the unmistakable sound of somebody stumbling and the thud of a body as it pitched into the trench I had just crossed. A muttered curse and I heard the man pick himself up cautiously.
Silence for a moment. Then he began to negotiate the barbed wire. I slid quietly behind a tree, my heart pounding against my ribs. My immediate reaction was that one of the Guards was trailing me. But reason told me that if it was one of the Guards he would have known the position of the trench and would not have fallen into it. Moreover, I had heard no clatter of a rifle as he fell. And that muttered curse! Surely he would not have uttered it if he had been trailing me.
The man, whoever he was, was very near me now. I could hear the pant of his breathing. Then the sound was lost in the whir of a car coming up the road. The wood about me suddenly took shape as the blacked-out headlights swept past only a few yards beyond where I stood. It only lit the wood up for a second before it drew level and was gone, but in that second I saw the man who was coming towards me and recognised him.
‘Good God, Micky!’ I said. ‘What the devil are you doing here?’
I sensed the shock of my voice as the car swept on and the blackness, more impenetrable than ever, settled once more on the wood.
‘Who’s that?’ His voice sounded hoarse and frightened.
I hesitated. The road was close, much closer than I had expected. Once on it I could give him the slip and he would never know who it was. ‘Is anybody there?’
And because I felt his fear, I said: ‘It’s Hanson.’
‘Hanson?’ he whispered. ‘Cor lumme, you didn’t ‘alf give me a fright.’
‘What the devil are you doing?’ I asked.
‘Doing a bunk, same as you. Though I didn’t think you was that scared.’
‘Good God!’ I said. ‘You mean you’re deserting?’
‘Who says I’m deserting? I ain’t deserting. Pm transferring. I’m going to volunteer in the Buffs.’
‘But why?‘I asked.
‘Cos I ain’t gonna stay in that bleeding aerodrome to provide target practice for Jerries. That ain’t fighting. It’s bloody murder. I want to be in something where I can fight the Jerry proper. I want to get at ‘em wiv a rifle and baynet.’
‘But if you’re caught you’ll be regarded as a deserter.’
‘Admitted. So will you. But I ain’t aiming to get caught.’
‘The odds are against you, Micky,’ I said. ‘Why not go back now while you’ve got the chance.’
‘And be bombed again without being able to do nothing to stop it. Not bloody likely. Wot about you, anyway?’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘I’m not exactly deserting.’
‘I suppose you’re resigning. You got a nerve telling me to go back, whilst you’re running like hell yourself. Wot d’you think I am? Are you going to volunteer in some other unit?’
‘No,‘I said.
‘Well, I am — see? I want ter fight for me country. I ain’t deserting. Come on, let’s get out o’ here while the going’s good.’
It was no use arguing with him. Time was too precious and at any moment we might be overheard. I followed him down a gentle slope and over a wooden stile on to the road. ‘There’s a garage just down the road,’ I said. ‘We’ll set a car from there.’
But we were in luck. We hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards when we heard a car coming towards us. ‘Stand by to board,’ I said to Micky. And as the dull headlights came round the bend ahead of us, I stepped out into the middle of the road and signalled it to stop. It pulled up with a shriek of brakes. It wasn’t a car at all but a Bedford truck.
‘Can I see your identity card?’ I asked as the driver leaned out of the window of the cab. I glanced at it and then flashed the torch I had brought with me in his face. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to get down while we search your cabin,’ I said.
‘What the hell’s the matter?’ he grumbled.
He showed no signs of moving. ‘Come on, look sharp!’ I barked. ‘I haven’t got all night to waste.’
‘All right, mate, all right,’ he muttered as he climbed out. ‘What’s the trouble, anyway?’
‘Looking for a Bedford truck full of H.E.,’ I told him.
‘Well, you’ve only got to look at the bloody thing to see it’s empty,’ he said.
The driver may have dumped it,’ I explained. Then to Micky I said: ‘You search the other side. Come on, look sharp. The fellow doesn’t want to waste all night. He’s probably late back already.’
‘You’re right there, sir,’ I think he thought by my voice and the way I had spoken to Micky that I was an officer in battle dress. ‘Shan’t be in bed till one and due to clock out again at eight in the morning.’
I had climbed up into the driver’s seat and made a pretence of searching with my torch, whilst in reality I was noting the position of the gears and foot controls. ‘That’s too bad,’ I said. At the same time I slammed home the gears, revved the engine and let the clutch in with a bang.
I heard the beginning of his shout, but lost it in the noise of the engine as I raced through the gears. In a second it seems I had swept past the turning that led to the main gates of the aerodrome. And in less than ten minutes I had swung left on to the main Eastbourne road and was making for East Grinstead. Fortune had favoured us. A Bedford truck, empty, has a. pretty turn of speed. The moon was just rising and the added light enabled me to push her. On the straight stretches I was showing nearly sixty on the clock.