But only for a brief moment did he absently wonder about that. In the next moment, just as his feet were about to touch earth, Fate in the form of a crazy cross wind played its dirty trick. His 'chute seemed to lunge to the left, and drag him with it. As he jerked his head around he caught the fleeting glimpse of a parked truck. Then the crazy cross wind slammed him up against that truck. He flung out both hands to soften the blow, but that action didn't help much. From out of nowhere something slammed him on the chest. Something else crashed down on his head. And something else hit him a terrific blow in the middle of his back. The side of the truck, seemingly no farther away than the end of his nose, exploded in a mighty display of colored lights, sparkling pin-wheels, and golden rockets. Then as though by magic a black curtain was drawn down over everything--and all was as silent as the grave! CHAPTER TWELVE _War's Flotsam_ A throbbing drone penetrated Dave Dawson's brain, and slowly stirred him back to consciousness. The first few moments were ones of utter confusion and pain. The throbbing drone developed into the sound of spoken words. Words spoken in both French and English. Despite the pain that seemed to extend throughout his entire body, an inner sense of caution warned Dawson to keep his eyes closed, and to lie perfectly still. He knew that he was propped up in some kind of a padded chair, and that he was in a room filled with people. There was the smell of them in his nose, and there was also the half tangy, half sweet smell of hot oil and grease. In an instant he placed it as the smell one gets inside a factory that is equipped with many machines for working on metal. A joyous sense of satisfaction flooded through him when he told himself that he had obviously been taken inside the factory to be given first aid. But a split second later, as terrible memory returned in full, there was not one bit of joy left in him. Freddy Farmer! Where was Freddy? Dead or still alive? He hardly dared think that the last could possibly be true. Yet hope does spring eternal within the human breast, and he clung to that tiny hope with all his heart and soul. And then through his bitter thoughts came the sound of spoken words. Words that registered upon his still slightly stunned brain, and made sense. "Stand back, you fools!" a voice snarled in German. "Can you not see that he needs air? Stand back! We must do all for this gallant hero of the Luftwaffe."