Darkest Hour (41 page)

They drove on, Tanner's heart
thudding. Beyond the tanks there were more vehicles - several half-tracks and
motorcycles.
Come on
, he thought,
keep going.
As if to stress the point, he jabbed the barrel of
the Luger into 'Timpke's crotch.

Standing in the turret, Timpke
saw they were approaching the heart of the village, the hub into which all
other roads and tracks fed. A slate-roofed house, built in the centre of the
road, stood at this confluence. To the side of it, three of his panzers had
ground to a halt while beyond, and from a track to his left, the vehicles of
Companies 1 and 2 had now converged. The smoke was clearing although it hung
heavy in the air, like a thin filter that made everything seem hazy. Several
houses had been destroyed, rubble spreading onto the street. Up the hill
another burned fiercely.

Seeing his forces take control
of the village made him realize his envelopment had happened as he had planned
- except, of course, for the unexpected ambush by these cursed Tommies.
Scheisse!
he thought. How could it be?
He cursed again - but he couldn't undo what had happened. The important thing
now was to resolve his predicament. A quandary: he could tell Beeck and
Saalbach as he passed them what had happened and order them to rescue him, or
he could do as this man Tanner had told him and continue straight to Warlus. A
rescue attempt, he was sure, would be successful, but at what cost? These
Yorkshire Rangers were, he guessed, some kind of British elite unit - and they
were good, he had to admit. In Tanner, he knew he was up against a hard man,
who would not flinch from carrying out his threat. But he was also certain that
the British were beaten. The Reich's forces would soon overwhelm them so he and
his men would not be held captive for long. In any case, there might be some
better opportunity to escape: they couldn't keep him in this vehicle for ever.

When they reached the house in
the centre of the road, he saw Beeck wave at him from his half-track, then jump
down and run towards the scout car as it slowed to pass the panzers.

'We have the village, boss!'
Beeck called.

'Yes - and I'm going to push
on,' Timpke shouted back. 'Stay here and make sure it's secure.' An idea struck
him. 'Then push on with Company Three in all strength towards Warlus.'

'Is your radio working, Herr
Sturmbannfuhrer?' Beeck asked. 'We've been trying to call you.'

'No - something's up. Follow
soon, understand?'

Beeck saluted, then ran back to
his vehicle.

'Otto,' Tanner shouted, tugging
at Timpke's breeches, 'what was that about? You didn't tell him to mount a
rescue?'

'No,' said Timpke, 'but the
whole weight of two divisions will be on your heels soon. You don't have a
chance.'

Tanner bent down to the vent
again, and saw they were passing tanks and vehicles. Troops were searching the
houses as they pressed on up the hill. Would they notice that British soldiers
were driving past? The disguises hardly bore close examination.
Hold your nerve,
he told himself.
They're not expecting
it. Fortune favours the bold.
They were climbing now, the road snaking out of the
village towards the ridge between the two villages. Still no exclamations of
surprise, no sudden gunfire. He glanced at his watch.
Nearly ten to seven.
Perhaps Otto was playing ball;
perhaps they would get away with it after all.

The armoured car slowed almost
to a standstill.

Tanner tugged at Timpke again.
'What's going on?'

'A bomb crater. We will drive
round it.'

Once they had successfully
negotiated it, they continued their climb until they reached the summit of the
ridge beside the water-tower Tanner had noticed on their way to attack the
copse. Through the vents Tanner saw bodies and detached limbs strewn at either
side of the road - British victims of the Stuka attack they had witnessed half
an hour before.

Timpke lowered himself into the
car. 'Our Stukas had their fill here,' he said, and smirked. 'There are many
dead Tommies.'

Suddenly a surge of anger rose
in Tanner's belly. Too many times in the past fortnight he had been forced to
keep it in check, to take humiliation on the chin and brush it aside.
No more.
He had had enough of this
madman. Calmly he clenched his left hand into a fist then, quick as a dart,
swung it into the side of Timpke's head. The German looked at him curiously,
then fell onto his side. Tanner's anger left him. His ability to hit almost
equally well with both hands had always been one of his strengths as a boxer.
The driver swung round, aghast, but Tanner waved the pistol at him -
just keep going.

Now Tanner climbed into the
turret himself. Behind, he saw Lieutenant Peploe. He heard small-arms fire to
the left and mortars were exploding around Warlus, now just a few hundred yards
on the far side of the ridge. Away to his right, but hidden from view by a
dense wood, he thought he heard the clatter of tank tracks. Directly ahead
there were two more bomb craters. The motorcyclists were slowing to get
through them, and as one looked round, Tanner signalled to them to halt.

'Our boys must still be in the
village, sir,' he called to Peploe.

'I agree,' Peploe replied.
'I'll tell Sykes to drive on in and warn them. Where's your German?'

'Out cold.' Tanner grinned.
'I'm sorry, sir, but he was getting on my nerves.'

Sykes was waved through. He
raised his thumb at Tanner as he passed, mounted the verge, inched past the
craters and headed on down the hill towards Warlus.

Tanner waited a moment,
listening, but to his relief heard no gunfire directed at Sykes's truck. He
climbed back into the car and said to the driver,
'Siegehen.'
A jolt, a jerk, and they
followed Sykes's lead, clambering onto the verge and past the bomb craters.

They halted in the village.
Tanner grabbed Timpke, still unconscious, hoisted him up into the turret and
pushed him out, then ordered the driver to follow. As he pulled himself out, he
saw that they had stopped in the wide turning towards the church, the small
stretch of road they had left barely two hours earlier. It seemed a lifetime
ago. A couple of trucks, several carriers and a few cars were already there. He
spotted Captain Barclay and Blackstone, standing with several other men on the
corner, gazing incredulously at the booty of German vehicles and the prisoners
being ordered to the ground. Tanner watched for a moment, the evening breeze
cool and welcome after the heat of the scout car. The air was heavy with
cordite and smoke but birds were still singing in the trees around the church -
last-minute wooing before they roosted for the night.

Blackstone, with Slater in tow,
now walked over to Corporal Cooper, who was gathering the prisoners together.

Sykes was wandering towards
Tanner, drawing on a cigarette. 'Where's 'e taking them, Sarge?' he asked,
nodding towards Blackstone.

'God knows,' said Tanner, as
several mortars exploded to the west, making him start. Thumps and machine-gun
fire followed. A platoon of Durham Light Infantry hurried across the road by
the church and disappeared behind it. More dull cracks and thuds resounded.

'Come on, Stan,' said Tanner.
'Best help me with Otto here. Then I reckon we ought to find out what the
hell's going on.'

'We're under attack from the
west, I'd say.'

'And soon we'll be under attack
from the south as well,' added Tanner. 'Those SS-wallahs aren't going to hang
around in Berneville for ever.' He sighed. 'What a bloody mess.' He tucked the
Luger into his belt, rifled through Timpke's holster and pockets for any spare
rounds - he found three clips - then called to Captain Barclay, who was talking
feverishly with Peploe under a large copper beech that was just bursting into
full leaf. 'Sir, do you want to question him?'

Barclay looked at him with a
flush of irritation. 'Not at the minute, Tanner. Take him with the others. We
can interrogate him later.'

'Suit your bloody self,'
muttered Tanner.

Blackstone and Slater had taken
the prisoners across the road to a large old-brick barn. By the time Tanner and
Sykes caught up, the SS men had been corralled inside it. It was dry and dusty
in there. A rick of straw was stacked at one end, but otherwise it was empty,
save for a dilapidated cart, an ageing plough, a harrow and a few
broken-spoked wheels.

There were, Tanner reckoned,
more than forty prisoners - all SS but some had been captured earlier. One of
the lance-corporals from Company Headquarters was there, keeping guard with a
Bren. Tanner and Sykes laid Timpke beside the straw then turned to go.

'How's my favourite rapist,
then?' said Blackstone, winking.

Tanner ignored him.

'The women of France should be
quaking now his blood's up,' he continued, grinning. 'A bit of fighting
today and he'll be terrorizing the ladies
tonight.'

Tanner grabbed him by the
throat and rammed him hard against the wooden side of the barn. Behind him, he
heard the prisoners shuffling apprehensively, as though weighing up whether the
time to make a bid for freedom had come. At the same moment, he heard the cock
of the Bren pulled back and clicked into place. The lance- corporal was
pointing the Bren straight at him.

'Shut your sodding mouth,
Blackstone,' Tanner hissed.

'Let go of the CSM,' said a
low, gruff voice. Tanner turned and saw Slater beside him, a Webley in his
hand.

Fanner glared at him, then
loosened his grip.

'Jesus, Jack,' spluttered
Blackstone, 'you never could take a joke.'

'Not from you, you bastard.' He
noticed the MP35 slung over Blackstone's shoulder. 'What gives you the right to
carry that like some bloody trophy?'

'I see you've got another,' he
answered, straightening his battle-blouse.

'Yes, unlike you, I got it the
hard way.'

'It's a perk of my position,
Jack, you know that. And let me tell you something else. It's not clever to go
around threatening warrant officers.' He eyed Tanner carefully. 'You were lucky
this morning - very lucky. But that matter hasn't gone away, you know. Rape is
rape, whoever you are. And now you're showing violent tendencies towards a
superior. It won't look good - it won't look good at all. And I've witnesses.'
He nodded to Slater and Sykes.

'Don't think I'm one of your
lackeys,' said Sykes. 'Come on, Sarge,' he said to Tanner, pushing past the two
men. 'Let's leave them to guard this lot. We've got proper soldiering to do.'

Slater grabbed Sykes's shoulder
and swung him round. 'Watch your lip, son,' he said. 'You and the good sergeant
'ere might 'ave been leading charmed lives but it don't pay to push your luck.'

'Let go of me,' said Sykes,
wriggling free.

'Leave it, Stan,' said Tanner,
ushering Sykes away. He turned back to Blackstone and Slater. 'Trust me,' he
said, 'it's you two who're pushing your luck. Eventually you'll slip up and
I'll be waiting when you do.'

As they walked back towards the
square, they were hailed by Lieutenant Peploe. 'There you are,' he said, as
they hurried over. The air was now heavy with gunfire and the sound of battle -
not only from the south and west of the village but to the north as well. Dull
crumps and faint machine-gun sallies were coming from a few miles away.

'Bloody hell,' said Tanner,
looking northwards, 'that's Duisans, isn't it?'

'And east of there too.' Peploe
rubbed his eyes and cheeks. 'Look, we've got to move into position, back up the
road towards the water-tower. Then we'll dig in around the hedgerows along the
edge of the village.'

'All right, sir, let's go.
Shall we leave the trucks?'

'Yes, they'll be safer here, I
hope.'

Tanner called to the rest of the
platoon, who had been waiting by the vehicles, and they hurried back up the
road that led to Berneville. Past the last of the houses, up ahead, they saw an
anti-tank crew bringing their gun into position against the bank at the side of
the road, men unloading shells from the carrier beside them. Away to their
left, from the direction of the wood, shots rang out, while behind and to the
east, guns continued to boom intermittently.