Steve and Shane were sitting motionless, both deep in thought, in the back of the truck when the whine of incoming artillery shells and the crash of them hitting the nearby ground brought them back to the present.
"I don't like this Steve, they're very close," Shane whispered.
"It's worrying but hopefully we'll be ok," he replied.
"Be quiet or I shoot," yelled the German guard in an effort to get his voice above the now near deafening artillery.
A few seconds later a loud explosion in front of the truck caused the truck to veer of the road and run to a stop in the middle of a field, next to a hedge.
"This is our chance, let's take it now before it's too late, the guard is unconscious, dead or pretending to be unconscious," Shane whispered.
"Ok let's go," Steve replied.
The two prisoners sprang out of the back of the truck and sprinted towards the hedge that was nearby. A shout from the back of the truck and a shot that missed Steve narrowly showed that the guard had regained consciousness.
"The lines are that way," Shane said pointing.
"Okay let’s get a move on and take cover whenever we hear anybody coming,"
The two escapees ran off in the dull light of dusk and managed to make good time, walking five miles in four hours bringing them to within half a mile of the front lines.
"Let’s take it slow now," Steve whispered.
"Ok but don't forget this is the hard part, make sure you don't make a sound when we get nearer," Shane replied.
An hour later after a very testing walk and nerve racking they were just a few yards away from the wire they had to get through to freedom. Unfortunately they had to stop for a few minutes whilst a patrol went past. Just when they thought they were safe from them, Shane sneezed. The patrol instantly turned around pointed their guns at Shane and Steve. The patrol could only just see them, lying in the shadows.
“Hande hoch,” the leader of the patrol yelled.
“We’ve got no choice,” Steve whispered to Shane.
“I’m really sorry,” Shane replied.
All talking was stopped when another soldier started whispering and gesturing at them.
“Is it just or did that sound like English?” Shane whispered.
“Who are you?” Steve yelled at the patrol.
“You speak English?” one of them replied surprised.
“Considering we are English, it would be pretty poor if we didn’t,” Steve replied.
“Be quiet you Jerry pig, we won’t be falling for any of your tricks,”
“I’m going to walk towards you so that you can see us properly,”
“Okay walk forward very slowly with your hands in the air,”
They both complied and came within clear view of the patrol.
“They’re wearing British uniforms,” one member of the patrol said.
“What are your names?” the leader of the patrol asked.
“I am Second Lieutenant Shane Gray and this is my gunner, Flying Officer Steve Lewis, both from 111 Squadron of the RFC.”
“Where are you based?”
“Near Amiens,”
“What is the name of your Commanding Officer?”
“Major Charles,”
