Darkest Hour (24 page)

Then, having said his piece and drained his glass, the
army group commander shook Gort's hand once more, fixed his kepi back on his
head and left.

Pownall made to leave too, but Gort pointed to the chair
Billotte had just vacated. 'Sit down, sit down,' he said. Then, after a brief
pause, he added, 'I think, Henry, we can safely conclude that General Billotte
has shot his bolt. It's incomprehensible but the man really doesn't have a plan
at all, does he?'

'As he himself admitted, my lord.'

'I hoped at first he hadn't meant it.'

'You've seen the reports from the liaison officers?'
asked Pownall. He took out his pipe, deftly stuffed some tobacco into it and
lit it, amid a swirling cloud of sweet- smelling smoke.

'Yes, I have. I was reading them before the general
arrived. Not very encouraging.' He stood up and faced the map behind him. 'He's
talking of counter-measures, by which I'm assuming he means a counter-attack to
close the gap punched by the panzers. But I'm not at all sure he's got the
reserves he needs - not where he wants them, at any rate.'

'You don't think it can be closed, my lord?'

'Do you, Henry?'

'I agree he didn't seem very confident.'

'An understatement.' Gort held his hands together and tapped
his chin with them. 'I have to say, Henry, the situation is worse than I'd
thought.'

'Our chaps have reached the Dendre in good order,'
said Pownall, 'and they'll be at the Escaut tomorrow. But there's certainly a
complete void on our right. Between us and the Boche there is nothing but a few
disorganized fag-ends of French units, as far as I can make out.'

Gort was silent for a time, locked in deep thought.
'As I see it, Henry,' he said at length, 'we have three options. First, we can
help Billotte counter-attack and try to push the Germans back. But, as we've
discovered, he has apparently no plan whatsoever as to how we can achieve this,
and we don't even know what troops he's got for such an operation. Second, we
could swing all our forces back to the Somme, to the south, but that's assuming
the Germans don't thrust any further and that we've got time to make such a
move. It would have the advantage of enabling us to retreat on our lines of
communication, but it would also mean deserting the Belgians.'

Pownall relit his pipe. 'You think neither option is
practicable?'

'I don't see that they are.'

'And the third?'

Gort sighed. 'The third option, Henry, is to withdraw
the BEF to the Channel ports as a preliminary to evacuation.'

'Evacuation?' Pownall took his pipe from his mouth.
'The entire BEF?'

Gort turned away from the map and began to pace the
room. 'Yes, Henry - or as much of our force as possible. If the French don't
buck up pretty damn quickly, the Germans
will be,
victorious. Good God, look what they've achieved already! We can't do it alone
here. Our boys have done all we've asked of them, but they can't work miracles.
My responsibility is first and foremost to Britain and the men under my
command. If France falls, who do you think will be next for Hitler? We're going
to need every man available, so to send three hundred and fifty thousand to
prison camps in Germany won't help our cause, will it?'

'No, but - good God, it'd mean leaving the battle at
the time the French will most need us.'

'I can't help that. I need to speak to my corps
commanders. Henry, tomorrow morning I want you to get Brookey, Barker and Adam
over here, and convene a staff conference first thing to plan such a
withdrawal. I still hope it may not come to this - the French may buck up, you
never know - but we must be prepared. We have to have a plan, Henry, even if
they do not.'

'By God, what a night,' said Pownall, now staring
gloomily at the large wall map of northern France and the Low Countries. 'How
awful it is to be allied to such a temperamental race.'

At the farm, Sykes held his breath, but his heart was
hammering. Behind him, Bell moved and something chinked - his water-bottle
against his bayonet, perhaps. It was a small noise but to Sykes, waiting by
that partially open door, it had seemed horribly loud. The approaching German
soldier was just yards away now.

Please, God.
Sykes's whole body was tense.

Voices - orders. Then footsteps and, to his relief,
Sykes saw both men go back to their motorcycles.
So maybe there is
a God after all,
he thought. Gunning their throttles, the noise
ripping apart the stillness of the night, the soldiers sped back through the
archway and up the road towards the village.

'Quick!' said Sykes. They dashed out into the yard,
ran between two outbuildings, and helped each other over the wall into the
orchard.

They sprinted without stopping all the way to the
wood, gave the right password - 'Churchill' - and, using the light of a
filtered torch, made their way to 10 Platoon's bivouac area. There they found
Tanner asleep on a patch of soft moss at the foot of a large oak, wrapped in
his gas cape and leather jerkin.

'Sarge! Sarge!' hissed Sykes, shaking his shoulder.

Tanner opened his eyes immediately and sat up, pulling
off his cape. 'What time is it?' he asked. 'And what are you two doing here?
Who's at the tower?'

'It's twenty past midnight,' said Sykes. 'Germans came
to the farm, Sarge, men on motorcycles, and there's a whole lot more in the
village. I wondered whether you'd all heard them.'

'Not in these woods. Amazing how much trees deaden
noise. Have you told anyone else?'

'No, Sarge.'

Tanner packed away his cape but kept on the jerkin,
and grabbed his rifle. 'They must have been doing a quick recce of the place. I
wouldn't be surprised if more of them come back. A big empty farm is always
going to make a good billet. Let's find Mr Peploe.'

The lieutenant was woken and Sykes told him what they
had seen.

'Sir, I'd like to go and have a look,' said Tanner.
'It may be that we can get some transport.'

'All right.' Peploe nodded.

'And I'd like to take Sykes with me, sir. He knows the
way through the orchard.'

Peploe agreed. 'Just make sure you're back before
one.'

The two men had not gone halfway across the field
between the wood and the orchard before they heard more vehicles, and this time
not just motorcycles.

'Good,' whispered Tanner.

They ran on through the orchard and up to the wall.
The voices and clamour of several men mingled with the growl of engines until,
one by one, the vehicles were turned off. They heard laughter from one of the
stables, then two sets of footsteps just the other side of the wall. Then
voices from the road and a flickering torch beam.

Both men fell to the ground, barely daring to breathe.
A match was struck; a man said something, then he and his companion walked
away.

'We need to see what's in the yard,' whispered Tanner,
his battle-blouse and jerkin damp with dew.

'Give it a few more minutes, Sarge.'

Tanner turned his watch face to the stars: 0040. They
couldn't afford to wait long. A couple of minutes passed, then a couple more.
The voices faded until the farm seemed quiet.

'All right,' whispered Tanner. 'I'm going for a look-
see.' Taking off his helmet, he stood up and peeped cautiously over the wall.
The yard was a place of shadows, not a single light to be seen. Above, cloud
covered the moon, but there was a faint glow - enough for him to make out the
dark shapes of vehicles parked in the yard. Tanner cursed and sat down again.
'It's too dark. Damn.' Then the half-moon began to slide from behind a cloud,
and Tanner was on to his feet again. Now he could see more clearly: a staff
car, half a dozen motorcycles with sidecars, two small infantry trucks, an
armoured scout car and a half-track. He sat down beside Sykes. 'Not bad,' he
whispered, 'but not enough for more than seventy men.'

'We should check the road,' suggested Sykes. 'Maybe
there're vehicles parked there.'

'Good thinking.'

They crept along beside the farm wall until they
reached the road. Then, Sykes on his stomach and Tanner squatting, they peered
round.
Ha!
thought Tanner, and nudged Sykes
triumphantly. Lined up along the road, to either side of the archway, there
were four trucks, three of which looked like Opel troop carriers.

They were uncovered, wooden-sided, and with ample room
for twenty men in each. A fourth, at the far side of the archway, was smaller,
with a sloping bonnet and, curiously, six wheels. It would be a squeeze, but
the four would be enough.

'Come on, Stan,' whispered Tanner. 'Let's get back.'

As they hurried across the field in silence, Tanner
thought about how best to take the vehicles. It had to be a simple operation,
the emphasis, as ever, on surprise, but also speed. They needed to get in
quick, steal the trucks and be gone again.
Yes. That could
work.
He smiled to himself as the plan took shape in his mind.

Then his thoughts turned to Blackstone, who was
proving more of an enigma than Tanner wanted to admit. There had been times
since joining the company when he had been convinced that Blackstone was as
evil a bastard as ever - and worse: that he was a murderer and wanted Tanner
dead. He knew what he had seen on the bridge: Blackstone apparently aiming his
rifle directly at him before lowering it. At that moment he had been as sure as
a man could be that Blackstone had shot him. But now - well, now he wasn't so
certain. The CSM had seemed so genuine in his denial when they'd talked
earlier, and Tanner had to accept that the evidence he had built against him
was circumstantial. There were no hard facts.

Tanner now wondered whether his knowledge of him in
India - his intense dislike of him back then - had warped his view of the man
these past ten days. Perhaps he had been too quick to see the worst in him, too
ready to assume that Blackstone was at the heart of every bad deed he had
witnessed. He still disliked the fellow, but was he himself guilty of trying to
fit what scant evidence there was of these crimes around what he knew of
Blackstone? Had he lost the ability to view matters objectively? All his life
he had trusted his gut instinct, his sixth sense; it had saved his life a
number of times. But now that gut instinct kept changing. By law a man was
innocent until proven guilty; and Tanner could prove nothing. Not conclusively,
at any rate.

Tanner sighed. And there was Blackstone's proposal,
too. A few hours before he had been inclined to agree with the CSM's plan, but
that was when the company had been without transport. If the vehicles could be
successfully stolen, it would be better, he was certain, for them to stay
together. But he doubted Blackstone would see it that way. No, the CSM would
regard it as another deliberate act of defiance.
Bloody hell
,
thought Tanner. It was hard enough fighting a war against the Germans without
engaging in another among his own company. Perhaps, it now occurred to him,
Blackstone didn't need to know - not for the time being, at any rate.

Past the sentries and back into the wood. The men were
all awake now, packed up and ready for another long, gruelling day's march.
They were quiet, senses still dulled from sleep, their mood sombre.

'In the nick of time,' muttered Lieutenant Peploe, as
they reported to him. 'The OC wants us to form up by the edge of the wood in
five minutes.'

'Sir,' said Tanner, in a low voice, 'there's enough
transport, but we need to wait another hour.'

'We don't have another hour, Sergeant. We're leaving
now.'

'I've got an idea, sir.'

'Go on.'

'With your permission, I'd like to take Sykes's
section.

You go with the rest of the platoon, and once we've
got the vehicles, we'll catch you up.'

'How will you know where to find us?'

'We'll come with you to the forming-up point and find
out where Captain Barclay intends to lead us. Then we'll slip away.'

Peploe thought for a moment. 'I'm uneasy about it,
Tanner. I've a feeling the OC would be against it, or else he'd want the whole
company involved.'

'That would complicate things, sir. It has to be a
small group acting quickly.'

'I see that, which means doing it behind the OC's
back. Other grounds for concern? Well, I have a horrible feeling that if we
part company in opposite directions in the middle of night, with Jerry lurking
here, there and everywhere, it's the last we'll see of each other, which,
frankly, would be a damn shame.' He took off his cap and tugged at his hair.
'On the other hand, it'd be madness to pass up such a golden opportunity. Does
it have to wait an hour?'

'I was thinking that Jerry might be asleep by then . .
. Sod it, sir. What if we go now? If we pull it off you'll have barely got over
the bridge by the time we're finished. I'm presuming you'll be turning left
down the road that runs alongside the river?'