Darkest Hour (34 page)

'Ammunition isn't critical yet, but food's getting
short. We've only another two and a half days at current rates.'

'It's impossible,' he muttered, then added, 'Let's
hope General Weygand's got a good plan up his sleeve. How are we getting to
Ypres this morning?'

'By car, my lord. I just pray the roads are clear
enough.'

'God willing. I want to meet Weygand. I want to see
whether he's got what it takes and I want to damn well impress upon him the
importance of quick decision-making. I've heard he's good, but he's dashed old
- seventy-odd, isn't he? Like all these French generals.'

'And too rooted in the last war, perhaps.' Pownall
gulped his tepid coffee. 'And what about Frankforce, my lord? Do we cancel the
attack today?'

'No, Henry. No. We've got to be seen to be acting on
our promises. In any case, it might achieve something. I can't say this is a
great surprise. It's why I didn't tell Franklyn we were hoping the French would
join us. He still thinks it's an operation to clear our southern flank.'

'And surely that's what it is, my lord.'

'Yes, that's exactly what it is,' Gort concurred. 'The
threats of evacuation have had no effect at all. Tell me, Henry, am I going to
have to call in the Navy and move the BEF to Dunkirk before the French wake
up?'

Tanner was in a filthy mood. He had stumbled back into
the church and, in the near-darkness, had found a corner and got his head down,
but the cover of night would only delay the inevitable. The men had been up at
first light and, of course, had seen the cut on his cheek, the bloodied,
swollen lip, and he'd been unable to hide the pain in his side. His head
throbbed and his body hurt like hell. What was more, the wound he had received
at the lock a few days ago had opened again and stung sharply every time he
moved.

In many ways, however, the pain was the least of it.
Worse were the comments, the looks, the seemingly endless questions. First
Sykes, then the others. 'What happened to you, Sarge?' 'You look terrible, Sarge.'
And what could he say? That, for no apparent reason, three Frenchmen had jumped
on him and given him a going-over? It was so bloody humiliating. And Blackstone
had let slip that he'd rescued him, saved his life, even. The bastard. Tanner
had known he was making a bad show of hiding his feelings. When Hepworth said,
'I told you old Blackie was a good bloke,' Tanner had nearly knocked him cold
there and then. It had taken much willpower to ignore the comment and walk
away.

If only they could get on with the battle, everyone
would forget about it, but six o'clock came and went, then seven and still they
had received no orders. Lieutenant Bourne-Arton was sent to liaise with
Brigade; soon after he had gone, a swarm of Junkers 88s had flown over and pasted
Vimy, but the lieutenant had returned unscathed a short while later, with news
that they would be forming up at ten a.m., and that the company was to
rendezvous with the rest of the right-hand attack column at eleven a.m. in
Neuville-St-Vaast, a village a mile or so on the far side of Vimy Ridge. That
meant a further two hours of sitting around, re-cleaning weapons, and suffering
the nudges and comments of the men.

'Come on, Sarge,' said Sykes, as they waited out on
the village square. 'Have a tab and cheer up a bit.' He lit Tanner a cigarette
and passed it to him.

Tanner took it and grunted his thanks. He hadn't
really spoken to Sykes about it, but now he felt more inclined to do so. 'It
was Blackstone, Stan.'

'I might have known,' said Sykes. 'What did happen
between you two? In India, I mean.'

'It was a bit like now. Him trying to run the show. He
had everyone in his pocket - not just the platoon but others too.'

'Not you, though?'

Tanner smiled. 'No. I don't know why but I
instinctively mistrusted him. I think he sensed it. Anyway, he went out of his
way to make life difficult.' Tanner paused to draw on his cigarette.

'I see,' said Sykes.

'I began to realize he was a coward,' Tanner
continued. 'Throughout the Loe Agra campaign he'd do anything to avoid a scrap.
Anyway, one day I told him what I thought.'

'And it wasn't appreciated.'

'No. Anyway, he also had this racket going - opium. He
was trading with the Wazirs. I'm not quite sure how he did it, but I think he
was nicking arms and handing them over in return for the stuff, then selling it
on.'

'Jesus - and them guns was being used against our own
chaps?'

'To be fair, I couldn't swear to it. But, yes, I think
so. At any rate, those Wazirs always seemed to have a fair amount of British
kit. Anyway, next thing I know, I'm being accused of trading opium and I'm in
choky awaiting the firing squad.'

'So what happened?'

'I had an alibi. And I'd just been put up for this.'
He touched the ribbon on his battle-blouse. 'My record was pretty good and the
intelligence officer was a decent bloke. He didn't like Blackstone either and
stuck his neck out for me. I got off, but I couldn't nail anything on
Blackstone. The bastard.'

'So that's why you 'ate 'is guts.'

'That's why. And nothing I've seen of him since
joining this mob has made me think he's changed.'

'Blokes like that never do.'

'No.'

He looked up as footsteps approached and saw CQS
Slater. 'Here's trouble,' he muttered.

'Tanner,' said Slater, 'the OC wants you.' He glared
at Sykes. 'Now.'

Tanner followed him in silence to the low brick house
a short distance beyond the church that Barclay had made his company
headquarters. It had been abandoned by its owner, but most of the belongings
were still there, and as Tanner entered he saw pictures on the wall, florid wallpaper
running up the staircase, a crucifix and shelves full of books. To one side of
the entrance there was a living room, to the other a kitchen. It was
startlingly unmilitary in appearance.

'In there,' said Slater.

Tanner entered to find Captain Barclay sitting at the
head of an old pine table. Behind him, leaning against an unlit range, stood
Blackstone. A girl sat beside Barclay at the table. At first, Tanner didn't
recognize her, and then it dawned on him that it was she who had been wailing
in the church the previous evening - the one Blackstone had managed to silence.

Tanner saluted. 'You wanted to see me, sir.'

'Christ, man, look at you!' snapped Barclay. 'You're
an absolute disgrace.'

'I'm sorry, sir,' Tanner replied. 'I was set upon last
night.'

'By three Frenchmen - yes, I've heard, and I'm not
surprised after what you did.'

What's this?
Alarm bells rang. 'I'm sorry, sir, I don't
understand.'

'No? Are you sure?' He indicated the girl. 'Are you
telling me she's lying?'

'I don't know what you're talking about, sir.' He
looked at the girl, who avoided his gaze.

'Mademoiselle Lafoy here claims you raped her last
night.'

'What?
But that's absurd!' Tanner's heart quickened and a
dull veil of intense dread swept over him. His legs felt unsteady.

'It was him,' said the girl, her accent heavy. 'He -
he raped me!'

'I did nothing of the sort,' said Tanner. 'I swear it,
sir. She was crying in the church last night. The CSM calmed her down and then
she left. That is the only time I've ever seen her in my life.'

'And you think a French girl you claim you've never
seen before would make such an allegation if it wasn't true?' said Blackstone.
'Give over, Sergeant.'

Tanner glared at him. 'I don't know what her motives
are, sir,' he said to Barclay, 'but I tell you she's lying.' He turned to
Blackstone again. 'Someone with a grudge against me must have put her up to
it.' And then he saw the girl glance at Blackstone - a brief flicker, but unmistakable.
It was all the proof he needed.
I'll
bloody kill him.

'Well, I'm sorry, Tanner, but I don't believe you,'
said Barclay. 'You're a good soldier, I'll admit that, but you're trouble. You
have been from the moment you joined this company and I can't help having a dim
view of your character.'

'Based on what, sir?'

'Don't answer back, Tanner.'

'This is ridiculous,' snarled Tanner. 'I know who's
behind it, sir.' He nodded at Blackstone. 'And I'll prove it too - one way or
another.' He turned to Mademoiselle Lafoy. 'How much did he pay you, eh?' The
girl flinched, frightened by his anger.

'That will do, Tanner!' shouted Barclay. His face had
reddened, and then, as though recognizing the need to compose himself, he
placed his hands carefully on the table in front of him and said, in a slow,
measured voice, 'You'll have a chance to defend yourself, but for now you're
relieved of your duties. You'll wait here until the MPs arrive.'

Tanner stared at Barclay, barely able to take in what
the OC had said.

'And you're demoted to the ranks,' said Blackstone,
unable to hide the triumph in his voice. He walked to Tanner, took out a clasp
knife and grasped Tanner's arm.

Tanner grabbed the CSM's wrist. 'You'll pay for this,'
he whispered to Blackstone, 'and that's not a warning. It's a statement of
fact.'

'Let go of my hand, Private,' said Blackstone, and
then, out of view of Barclay, he winked. Stitch by stitch, Tanner's sergeant
stripes were unpicked, first on one arm, then the other, until all that was
left were the loose khaki threads still hanging from his serge battle-blouse.

Corporal Sykes was worried about Tanner, but he was
also worried for himself and the rest of the lads. They were about to go into
battle, and Sykes, for one, knew there was no one else he would rather have at
his side than their sergeant. The other lads needed him too - they all did. Yet
Tanner was in a bad way - clouted the previous evening and in a black mood like
he'd never seen before. And that was before Slater had turned up. Something was
wrong, he was sure of it. Tanner had been gone an hour, and they were due to
form up shortly.

Sykes paced up and down the square, the scent of the
lime trees heavy on the morning air, smoked a cigarette, then decided to find
Mr Peploe. They'd barely seen the lieutenant since the previous afternoon -
he'd been found digs in the village where he'd been resting and giving himself
a chance to recover from his wound. Well, to hell with it, thought Sykes. He'd
have to disturb him now.

The house was a short way up the road to Vimy Ridge -
a brick affair with curious limestone blocks along the foundations and at the
corners. Sykes knocked on the door, which was answered by Private Smailes.

'Smiler,' said Sykes, 'is Mr Peploe about?'

'Good morning, Corporal,' he heard the lieutenant say
from inside. He appeared, already wearing his webbing, kitbag and holster.

'How are you feeling, sir?' Sykes asked.

'Better, thank you. Head's still a bit sore, but I
have deep reserves of courage and I think I can now resume full duties as
platoon commander.' He grinned.

'Glad to hear it, sir.'

'Shall we get going, then?' said Peploe.

'Er, sir,' said Sykes, 'it's Sergeant Tanner, sir.'

'What about him?' said Peploe, anxiety clouding his
face. 'What's happened?'

Sykes explained.
'I thought maybe you could check with the OC what's going on,' he added.

'Absolutely,
Corporal,' said Peploe, clapping his damaged tin hat back on his head. 'Come
with me. We'll see him right away.'

It was a
grim-faced Captain Barclay who informed them that Tanner was under arrest on a
charge of rape.

'What absolute rubbish!' said Peploe. 'What proof have
you got? I've never heard such poppycock in all my life.'

'Lieutenant!' said Captain Barclay. 'I will not have
you speak to me like that. Why on earth would the girl make it up? She's
clearly distressed, she has identified Tanner quite specifically and, apart
from anything else, we can't have our troops raping and pillaging our allies.
I'm merely observing the proper procedures.'

Peploe snorted derisively. 'Let me see him, sir. He's
my platoon sergeant. I demand to be allowed to speak to him.'

'I'm not sure that's advisable, sir,' began
Blackstone, but Barclay cut him off.

'Yes, all right, Peploe. Blackstone, take Lieutenant
Peploe to see Tanner.'

Tanner was sitting on a stool in the scullery at the
back of the house. He stood up as Peploe and Sykes entered. 'It's not true,
sir. I don't know that girl at all. I've been put on the peg for nothing.'

'I believe you, Tanner, don't worry,' said Peploe.
Then, seeing his sleeves, he asked, 'What's happened to your stripes?'

'I've been demoted, sir.'

'But that's monstrous!'

'Sir, Blackstone's behind this. He set me up last
night - as much as admitted it - and I'm sure he's paid that girl to make the
charge. But it's rubbish, a lie - he wants me out of the way.'