Darkest Hour (22 page)

While Lieutenant Peploe and Captain Barclay went to
find the owner, Tanner had a look round. The farm and outbuildings were
protected by a wall, while a rickety tower stood above the archway.

'Bloody nice old place this, Sarge,' said Sykes,
beside him.

'It is, Stan. I might go and have a dekko from up that
tower - looks like a damn good OP to me. I don't like being down in this valley
- can't see much. It was better when we were on that ridge.'

'Good idea, Sarge. I'll come with you.'

There was a door beside the archway. 'They opened it
and found a staircase. It led straight up to another door that then opened into
the tower. It was dusty inside, old straw strewn across wooden floorboards.

'Christ,' Sykes whistled. Some pigeons fluttered from
their perch, making the two men jump. Fifteen feet above them there was a
wooden gallery, then the roof. Sunlight poured through holes where tiles had
fallen away, highlighting a million dust motes swirling in the still, musty
air. A ladder in the corner went up to the gallery.

'Careful, Sarge,' said Sykes, as Tanner began to
climb. 'That ladder don't look too safe to me.'

'It'll be all right,' said Tanner. Despite the
woodworm, he reached the gallery and peered through a hole in the roof. Away to
the west, in the distance some dozen miles away, he could see Mons. Ahead of
him lay the village and beyond, as the ground gently rose, a railway, then a
road on which traffic appeared to be moving.
Good.
He tried to remember the map. The Mons-Cambrai road, it had to be, and from
Cambrai it was no great distance to Arras. If they could get a ride to Cambrai
that would be something. Delving into his respirator bag, he took out his
binoculars and peered through them.

What he saw made his heart sink and his stomach lurch.
'Jesus,' he muttered. 'How the hell?' A long column of grey tanks was rolling
through the Flanders countryside, with armoured cars and artillery pieces.

'Stan!' Tanner called down. 'Get yourself up here.'

'What is it?' asked Sykes.

'Come on up and you'll see.'

Sykes clambered gingerly up the ladder and stood
beside Tanner, who passed him the binoculars.

'Look up on that ridge beyond the village. A mile or
so away.'

'Blimey!' said Sykes. 'Sweet bloody Nora! It's the
flamin' Jerries. How on earth did they get there?' He turned to Tanner. 'And
how come there's that many of 'em just there?'

'Don't ask me, Stan.' More dull explosions rumbled
from the south-west. 'Jesus,' he said. 'We've been thinking it's bombs we've
been hearing, but what if it was fighting?'

'Perhaps that's where those Frogs was heading
earlier.'

'Well, if Jerry's already taken the land to the south
of here, they aren't going to get very far, are they?'

'Christ, Sarge, do you think we're surrounded?'

'I don't know. Let me think a moment.' He looked
again, and then scanned to the north as well, from where they had just come.
Nothing. 'No, I'm sure we're not,' he said at length. 'Think about it. We've not
heard much fighting behind us, have we? I reckon those Jerries must have just
punched a hole to the south. No wonder those French scarpered so bloody quickly
yesterday. The whole of their line must have been collapsing. But we've not
seen anyone today, have we? No, Stan, I'm sure we're not surrounded yet.'

'But I thought the Germans were attacking to the north
and that was why we moved into Belgium.'

'Maybe they're doing both - a two-pronged attack.'

'Which means we're stuck in the middle.'

Tanner rubbed his chin. 'Christ, what a bloody mess.
If only we had a radio. I can't believe they sent us out here without one. How
can anyone possibly know what the bloody hell's going on?' He sighed, took off
his helmet and ran his fingers through his dark hair. 'We should have a quick
think about what to do.'

'Can't rely on Captain Barclay.'

'Or Blackstone.'

'The men won't be happy about moving again.'

'I'm not so sure we should move. If someone stays up
here in the tower, we can hopefully get some scoff, then decamp to that wood.
With the village between us and that ridge, they won't be able to see us and
they don't seem very interested in heading this way. We get some kip in the
wood and move on again at midnight, as the captain suggested. You stay here for
the moment, Stan, and I'll go down and talk to Mr Peploe. Perhaps he can
persuade the OC it's our best course of action.'

'All right, Sarge.' Sykes peered through the
binoculars again. 'But I'll tell you what I'm thinking.'

'What?' said Tanner, as he began to descend the
ladder.

'That we're going to have a hell of a job getting out
of this mess. I told myself we wouldn't let Norway happen again but now I'm not
so sure. Those bastards are whipping us good and proper.'

'We're not
beaten yet, Stan,' said Tanner. 'Never say die.'

Where the SS Totenkopf were now concentrated to the
west of Philippeville, south of Charleroi, there was no shortage of radio sets,
telephones or even decoding machines. If anything, Brigadefuhrer Eicke and his
staff had too much information; from what they were hearing, it sounded as
though all of France and the Low Countries were folding up before the
Wehrmacht'
s panzers - and before the Totenkopf would
have a chance to show the rest of the Reich and, indeed, the world what they
were capable of.

For Sturmbannfuhrer Otto Timpke, it had felt as though
the frustrations would never cease. A tantalizing promise of action would be
dangled before them, only for them to discover it was still as far from their
grasp as ever. Since leaving Aachen they had struggled across eastern Belgium,
battling against endless refugees, pathetic citizens fleeing their homes.
Timpke had tried to overcome the problem by sending his motorcycles on wide
searches for better routes, but other than going cross-country - which the bulk
of the division could not do - there was no alternative. He wondered where the
mass of people thought they were heading. Why were they so terrified? Timpke
wondered what Belgian and French propaganda had been like to prompt such a mass
exodus. Of course, it was unfortunate for those caught up in the crossfire of
fighting, but for the vast majority, if they had stayed in their homes, they
would have been quite safe, and would soon find themselves peaceably absorbed
into the Greater Reich, the lucky devils!

And it was not only refugees who had hindered their
progress but
Wehrmacht
soldiers - troops on their
way to the front. Timpke had personally seen Brigadefuhrer Eicke stand up in
his command car and berate footsore German soldiers, yelling at them to clear
off the road and let his superior, mechanized
Waffen-SS
division forge ahead. Timpke had smiled: Papa Eicke was an example to them all.

They had reached their concentration area at a village
west of Philippeville earlier that afternoon and Eicke had immediately called
together his staff officers and unit commanders in an orchard beside a river.
There he had read out the sitrep that had just arrived. It had already proved a
morning of dramatic advance for General von Rundstedt's Army Group A. General
Guderian's 2nd Panzer Division had captured St Quentin earlier that morning,
while just after midday, the 1st Panzer Division had reported having crossed
the river Somme; 6th Panzer was engaging French armour at Le Catelet, while
Major- General Rommel's 7th Panzer Division had recently taken Le Cateau and
was now pushing towards Cambrai.

Timpke's heart sank, and he couldn't help turning away
to rest his head despondently against the trunk of a gnarled apple tree. A
breeze ruffled its leaves and the lengthening grass beneath them. Nearby, wood
pigeons cooed rhythmically, as though they hadn't a care in the world.

'Don't look so despondent, Otto,' said Eicke. 'It's
not all bad news.'

Suddenly, Timpke was aware that the division's senior
officers were all staring at him. He gazed at Eicke, at his cap with the
death's head above the braid, the peak so low it almost covered those pale eyes
of his. His thin- lipped mouth was turned up at one side - a half-smile that
signalled to Timpke that he was a favoured son,
a man after my own
heart.

'Forgive me, Herr Brigadefuhrer,' said Timpke. 'I just
want there to be something left for us to do.'

Eicke smiled. 'As do we all. Otto. And, as it happens,
we have been asked to help Panzer Group Hoth who are concerned that
Major-General Rommel is overreaching himself. In Seventh Panzer's rapid advance
to Cambrai they have simply swept past a number of towns, and we are now to
follow up behind and secure them. I want your reconnaissance battalion and
Infantry Regiment 1 to carry out this role. Yes, it's a limited operation, but
trust me, even the feeble-hearted
poilus
will counter-attack at some point. They've been knocked off balance, caught
with their trousers down, but they'll get back on their feet. An army of that
size has to. In a moment, I want you and Standartenfuhrer Simon to sit down
with the 04 and he will brief you about what I want your reconnaissance boys to
do. The rest of us must be patient a short while longer. That's all,
gentlemen.'

As Eicke strode towards the manor house that stood
beyond the orchard, Timpke made his way to the division's 04 staff officer,
Obersturmbannfuhrer Geisler.

'Follow me,' said Geisler, leading Timpke and
Standartenfuhrer Simon towards the house. 'Hopefully, we've got an operations
room set up by now.' They crossed the orchard and passed through an old door,
half falling off its hinges, which led to a courtyard and the manor house.
Trucks and other vehicles had been parked in the orchard and all along the
road, but more trucks and staff cars were now crammed in front of the newly
requisitioned house. Inside, Geisler showed Timpke and Simon into what, until
an hour before, had been the dining room. Generations of the owners' family
looked down on them, several soldiers from centuries past. One, in an
eighteenth-century wig and blue velvet jacket, clutching the hilt of his sword,
appeared to sneer, his lip curled with contempt.
Ha,
thought Timpke.
Well, we're here now.

Geisler rolled out a large map across the table.
'We're here,' he said, pointing to the tiny village. 'Here's Avesnes, Le Cateau
and St Quentin,' he added, placing a finger on each in turn. 'And here's the
Somme. This is where General von Kleist's panzers are leading the charge. Up
here are General Hoth's two panzer divisions. Rommel's is now here at Cambrai.'
He turned to Simon. 'Herr Standartenfuhrer, we need your Regiment 1 to clear
these towns.' He pointed to the map. 'St Souplet, L'Arbre de Guise and
Catillon. Enemy troops are still dug in around Mauberge, but you are to bypass
them.'

Simon peered through his wire-framed round glasses at
the map, then busily made notes.

'And the reconnaissance battalion?' asked Timpke.

'Also avoid Mauberge,' said Geisler, 'but probe north
between Cambrai and Valenciennes and be on hand should the
Standartenfiihrer
need you.'

Timpke nodded. 'So I'll spread out my companies.'

'Exactly,' said Geisler. 'Have a look around - get the
lie of the land. See which bridges are still available, and what damage has
been done. We need to know the best routes to the front. The boss wants us to
move very quickly the moment we're ordered to do so.' He pulled out his pocket
watch. 'It's not quite a hundred kilometres from here to Cambrai, so it would
be best to move straight away. Get near to the front tonight, and the boss
wants you to use your time well from the moment it's light enough tomorrow morning.
Clear?'

'Perfectly, Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer.'

Within half an hour, the Totenkopf's reconnaissance
battalion was on the move, heading west in company formation, motorcycles and
armoured scout cars leading, followed by motorized infantry, half-tracks towing
their 37mm and 50mm anti-tank guns, and the Skoda tanks of the panzer
squadrons.

It was with the 1st Company that Timpke now travelled
in his staff car, following in the wake of the motorcycles as they sped
north-west along the French- Belgian border, the roads, for once, blissfully
free of refugees. He drummed his hand against his leg, bit at a nail, then
glanced back at the column of armoured cars and trucks behind, swirling clouds
of dust following in their wake.
I'm leading them
into combat
, he thought, with satisfaction. At that moment, he
felt invincible.

A young couple lived at the farm with their three
small children and the farmer's mother. Although they were quick to sell the
Rangers some food - cheese, bread and even two pigs - it was clear that the
farmer and his wife were terrified, and within an hour of the Tommies' arrival
they were gathering their family and a couple of suitcases into their truck.

Seeing this, Lieutenant Peploe went over to them. The
farmer, with an agitated expression, casting anxious glances at the men now
crowding the yard, spoke animatedly, then put the vehicle into gear and drove
out through the archway.