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They went there, carrying their stretcher, going, going up to the last minute, in delight, in the undying thrill of the danger. The wounded man was not in the plantation. As they looked for him the tram from Lokeren slid in, Red Cross men on the steps, clinging. The doors were flung open and the wounded men came out, stumbling, falling, pushing each other. Somebody cried, "No stretchers!
If you think you're any more comfort to the wounded than you are to Furny and me I can tell you you're mistaken. There was a poor devil at Lokeren the other day with a bullet in his stomach who told me he didn't mind his wounds and he didn't mind the Germans; what worried him was the lady being there when he wasn't able to defend her."
After Lokeren I had no desire to go through the rest of the war with Jimmy. To be with Jimmy was destruction to your sense of values. I have got it firmly fixed in my head that the taking of Lokeren was an important affair. And there is this to be said, that Lokeren filled the last gap in the line closing round Ghent, north, south and east, and drew it tighter.
We're looking for him." "Ah, pah! We can't wait till you find him. Do you think we're going to stand here to be taken? For one man!" They went on through the plantation, stumbling and growling, dragging the wounded out into the road. "If," Charlotte said, "we only knew where he was." John stood there silent; his head was turned towards the far end of the wood, the Lokeren end.
He wouldn't even believe that Antwerp was falling. She knew. She knew. There was not the smallest doubt about it any more. She saw it happen. It happened in the village near Lokeren, the village whose name she couldn't remember. The Germans had taken Lokeren that morning; they were in Lokeren. At any minute they might be in the village. You had to pass through a little town to get to it.
But I shall not forget the veteran officer of the first army, near Lokeren, who kept his men under cover while he ran out into the middle of the road to see if the Uhlans were coming. The only Belgian army today is an army of boys. Recently we had a letter from André Simont, of the "Obusiers Lourdes, Beiges," and he wrote: If you promise me you will come back for next summer, I won't get pinked.
"And look at her now not three weeks. What a life she's 'ad!" But Jimmy only jerked his thumb in the direction of Lokeren and made his third bolt. I scrambled in beside him as he started. I don't mind saying that I hated this adventure.
And we left her there with his hand in her right hand and her left hand on his shoulder. She was on her honour to stay with him till the end; but her eyes were fixed on Jevons, and they followed him as he went through the doorway of the cell. The very minute he had left her Jimmy made his bolt for Lokeren. He said he didn't want me; but I had seen Viola's eyes, and I said it would be safer.
We were rather a downhearted party when we set out northwards towards the Dutch frontier, for we had been told that the three buses we had sent on in advance had gone straight on to Lokeren, and had undoubtedly fallen into the hands of the Germans, who had made certain of holding the road by destroying the bridge.
He shut the door quietly and looked at her, an odd look, piercing and grave. "Dead," he said. And when McClane met them he said it again, "Dead." The wounded were being brought down from Lokeren in trams that ran on to a siding behind a little fir plantation outside the village.
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