Darkest Hour (19 page)

Anger welled as he ran the last few yards. Then he
turned back towards Blackstone, his face set and fists clenched.

A hand on his shoulder. 'Tanner, what in God's name
have you been doing?'

It was Peploe. 'We discovered a German reconnaissance
unit, sir.' He glanced again to where Blackstone had been but there was no sign
of him. 'We destroyed it, sir,' he added. 'Did Billy and Smiler get the
squadron leader back all right?'

'Yes - just after the Stuka attack.'

'Good. Did we lose anyone?'

'Three wounded in Eleven Platoon, but otherwise no.
Here,' he said, pulling out his hip-flask, 'have a nip of this. Then we need to
get back quickly. The battalion's moving out.' As Tanner swigged, he said,
'Your side's bleeding. Christ, what have you done?'

Tanner hitched up his battle-blouse and shirt. The
bullet had grazed him, carving a cut two inches long across his side. He had
been lucky. 'It's nothing serious, sir,' he said.

'I'm amazed any of you are alive.'

'It was Blackstone who did this, not the Jerries,'
said Tanner. 'It happened just now - as I was crossing the open ground between
the bridge and the trees.'

'Blackstone? Are you sure?'

'I saw him lowering his rifle.'

'Are you absolutely sure it was him? There were bullets
flying everywhere. Any one of them could have hit you.'

Tanner was in no mood to mind what he said to the
lieutenant. He had been involved in a hard-fought engagement, had killed a
number of men and very nearly been killed himself. Adrenalin still coursed
through him. Had Peploe not confronted him, he was certain he would have
knocked Blackstone down. Even now, his fists remained clenched and his jaw
tight.

'I know it was him, sir,' he told Peploe. 'Oh, it
won't stick and I'm sure Captain Barclay would back him to the hilt, but I'll
have to watch that man like a bloody hawk.'

'And I'm watching him, too,' said Peploe. 'But my advice
is to keep away from him. For both your sakes.'

They hurried through the trees that lined the canal
and rejoined the track leading to the farm, past empty slit trenches and
abandoned ammunition boxes. Tanner saw a dead North African, his leg twisted
back on itself. Bomb craters pockmarked the ground and ripped branches littered
it. The air was still thick with lingering smoke and the stench of cordite and
burning rubber. It was only half past five - just twenty-five minutes since
they had made their attack on the enemy.

Sykes and Hepworth were thirty yards in front and
turned now to wait for him. Tanner raised a hand and felt another stab of anger
as he spotted Blackstone ahead, with two other men and the prisoners.
Claiming them as his own. That bastard.
Just as he had
feared, he was now fighting two enemies in Belgium - and right now, he knew
which one was the more dangerous.

They made straight for the station house that for a
day had been D Company Headquarters. The slit trenches dug that morning were
still manned, but Tanner saw that the men were, once again, ready to march.
Primus stoves had been packed away, entrenching tools and bayonets attached to
belts and haversacks clipped back onto webbing. As soon as the order was given,
the men would sling their rifles and Brens on their shoulders and move out.

Tanner wished he could sit down for a few moments,
have a brew and a cigarette to calm himself, but as he paused by 12 Platoon's
slit trenches, Peploe said, 'I'm sorry, Tanner, but the OC wants to see you
right away. Sykes and Hepworth too.'

Tanner cursed to himself and scowled, unsure that he
could trust himself when he next saw Blackstone. Peploe felt in his pocket and pulled
out a pale green packet of Woodbines. 'All right,' he said. 'Perhaps there's
time for a quick smoke.' He threw the packet to Tanner. 'Here, you chaps, have
one of mine.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Tanner, taking one and passing
it on to Sykes.

Peploe took a small silver matchbox from his pocket,
and lit their cigarettes.

'Nice matchbox, sir,' said Sykes.

'Thank you, Sykes,' said Peploe. 'It was a
twenty-first birthday present from my sister. It's damn useful, actually. Never
have to worry about matches getting damp.'

Tanner inhaled deeply, then breathed out, a swirling
cloud of blue-grey smoke rising into the thickening leaves of the chestnuts
beside them. In the fields and woods on the opposite side of the canal, the
enemy was no longer anywhere to be seen. He imagined the German reconnaissance
troops radioing back the news that the British and French were in retreat
again. He wondered whether their efforts in the wood opposite had made any
difference. Although it was true that nearly thirty lay dead or wounded and
would not fight them again, it was small fry. The main body of the German
advance was presumably still ploughing its way towards them.
Christ.

'Sergeant?' said Peploe.

Tanner pushed back his tin hat and rubbed his brow.
'Yes, sir,' he said. 'Thank you for that.'

Tanner had calmed considerably by the time they
reached Headquarters. The violent rage he had felt towards Blackstone had been
replaced by a more controlled anger, so that when he was ushered round the back
of the station house to be grilled by Barclay, he was able to keep any
murderous thoughts in check.

To his relief, there was no sign of Blackstone, but he was surprised to
see Squadron Leader Lyell sitting beneath the oak tree behind the house, his
head bound with a wad and bandage.

'Ah, my rescuer, the gallant sergeant,' said Lyell,
his words slurred with morphine, 'or, rather, the man who buggered off and left
us to be bombed to hell by Stukas.'

'I thought you'd been taken to the battalion MO, sir.'

'Well, he should have been, Sergeant,' said Captain
Barclay, emerging from the house, 'but there's been a slight breakdown in
communications. Ten Platoon have gone with the truck to Oisquercq. They're
leaving slightly ahead of us with the rest of the battalion. Charlie - er,
Squadron Leader Lyell was supposed to go with them.'

'I'm glad I'm not in the Army,' said Lyell. 'You lot
always seem to be leaving each other behind.'

'It makes little odds,' snapped Barclay. 'We'll be
rendezvousing with the rest of the battalion later tonight. We'll just have to
carry you until then. It's not far.'

'Where is it, sir?'

Barclay pulled out a crumpled map. 'Er . . . here,' he
said, holding it against the grassy bank beside the house and pointing to a
wooded area some four miles west. 'Bois de Neppe. Orders from Battalion are for
us to meet there at nineteen thirty hours.'

Tanner looked at his watch. It was nearly six o'clock
already.

The OC read Tanner's thoughts. 'So we need to get
going, smartish.'

'Yes, sir.' He saluted and made to leave, but Barclay
stopped him.

'Hold on a moment, Sergeant. There's still time for
you to tell me briefly what the bloody hell's been going on. Your orders were
to rescue Squadron Leader Lyell yet you disappeared with two of your men and
left Ellis and Smailes to get him back on their own. Lucky for you that they
made it in one piece.'

'With respect, sir, the Stuka attack would have
happened whether I was with them or not. I didn't leave Squadron Leader Lyell
until I knew he was alive and that Smailes and Ellis could manage his injuries.
But I heard enemy troops a short distance above us, sir, and was worried they
might hinder our efforts to get the squadron leader back. I took Hepworth and
Sykes with me to investigate.'

'Sergeant Tanner and his men discovered part of a
German reconnaissance battalion, sir,' said Peploe.

'Four armoured cars and eight motorcycles. They were
reporting our movements by radio and, I think, had been marking targets for the
Stukas.'

'Sergeant Tanner and his two men destroyed them, sir,'
added Peploe.

'Destroyed them? How on earth could three of you have
done that?'

'We surprised them, sir. Surprise is a great
advantage,' he said, then added hastily, 'as you know, sir. And they were
distracted by the Stukas. Hepworth here cut most of them down with the Bren
while Sykes and I crept behind them and disabled the armoured cars with
grenades. We captured seven prisoners, but we lost one trying to make it back.'

'That was certainly good work, Sergeant. Captain
Wrightson has taken them to Battalion HQ with Ten Platoon.'

'So you managed to get the prisoners to Battalion but
not me,' muttered Lyell. 'Nice to know I'm lower in the pecking order than some
bloody captured Huns.'

Barclay sighed. 'For God's sake,' he said, through
gritted teeth, 'be thankful you're still alive and not being carted off to some
German prison camp.' He turned back to Tanner. 'Go on, Sergeant.'

'I also took the chance to have a bit of a dekko, sir.
I took one of the bikes to the far side of the ridge and saw the Germans in the
distance. At the time, I reckoned they were twelve to fifteen miles away.
They'll reach the canal by nightfall.'

Barclay swallowed. 'Right. I see.' He patted his
pockets and took out his pipe.

'And, sir, I’d like you to know that Corporal Sykes
and Private Hepworth performed well. Sykes alone destroyed an armoured car and
Hepworth accounted for at least fifteen enemy.'

'Really? By Jove! All right, Tanner. Thank you. Duly
noted. And, er, well done.'

Blackstone joined them from the back of the house.
'Sir, we really should be going. We've been held up long enough as it is.'

'Yes, all right, CSM,' said Barclay, without moving.
'Your old friend here has been performing heroics. How many dead was it,
Sergeant?'

Tanner shrugged. 'Wouldn't like to say, sir.'

'About thirty, sir,' said Sykes.

Blackstone's eyes were unblinking. 'Well done, lads.
Well done. We saw these boys hurtling down the hill, didn't we, Mr Peploe?' he
said. 'At first we thought they were Jerries gone mad, then we heard your
shouting and hurried to the bridge.'

'Another part of the enemy reconnaissance battalion
opened fire on us, sir,' said Tanner.

'But you made it back,' said Barclay.

Blackstone grinned. 'Touch and go, though, wasn't it,
sir?' he said, to Peploe. 'Bullets flying everywhere.'

'I was hit by one.' Tanner glared at Blackstone.

The CSM patted him on the back. 'But you're all right,
aren't you, Jack?'

'I was lucky.'

'There!' exclaimed Blackstone. 'Haven't I always said
so?' He smiled affably, took out a packet of cigarettes and held it open to them.
Hepworth took one eagerly, but Tanner and Sykes ignored the offer. Instead,
Tanner saluted Barclay again, then turned sharply and brushed past the CSM.

Soon after the company set off, two platoons and
Company Headquarters - seventy-nine men in all. They marched, 12 Platoon
following 11, along a dusty, unmetalled road, their backs now to the advancing
enemy.

Lieutenant Peploe was walking beside Tanner. 'Still no
sign. Hard to believe that less than an hour ago Germans were shooting at us
down by the bridge.'

'They'll be up there somewhere,' said Tanner. 'All
these woods make damn good cover. We've got a bit of time, though. Jerry can't
get across the canal without bridges, so their sappers'll be busy tonight.'

'You think they'll be over by morning?'

Tanner shrugged. 'I reckon so.'

'We don't want to be long at the rendezvous, then.'

'No. I don't suppose we've been told where we'll make
the next stand, but the sooner we get there the better. A bit of scoff in that
wood and then a long night march, I reckon.'

'What about your wound?'

'Hardly a wound, sir. I've put a dressing on it. I'll
have to get my housewife out, though, and sew up my shirt and battle-blouse.
Don't suppose we'll be seeing too much of our kitbags in the next few days so
what I've got has to last.'

They passed through another small village, as deserted
as the others. In the fields, more cows lowed painfully, their udders swollen
with milk. Tanner saw one cow already dead, its legs sticking up stiffly into
the air, its body rigid and bloated. Two dogs barked and snarled as they passed
until a soldier kicked one, and they scuttled away. An elderly woman was
watching from a window. A few days before she would have seen British troops
marching to the front, Tanner thought. Now they were marching back. What must
she be thinking, left alone, her neighbours gone, the Germans just a few miles
away?

He wondered whether they would really manage to
reverse the retreat. All the momentum was with the enemy now - that was obvious
- but he had also heard that the French Army was massive. Chevannes, a French
officer in Norway, had boasted about that, and how they had more tanks and guns
than the British and the Germans put together. The French had been caught off-
guard but surely they would regroup, concentrate their forces, now that they
knew the direction of the German advance, and fight back? He remembered his
father telling him that something similar had happened at the beginning of the
last war - a swift opening attack by the Germans that had taken everyone by
surprise but was eventually halted.