Darkest Hour (18 page)

Having reassured himself, he glanced at his watch,
then saw Sykes coming towards him. 'How long have we got?'

'Two or three minutes.' He puffed out his cheeks. 'I
hate the wait.'

'Got the grenades ready?'

Sykes patted his haversack - he'd undone the straps.

'Good,' said Tanner. 'There's only one way to do
this.'

'Run?'

'Yes. There's plenty of trees and it's not far. We
should be fine. Let's leave the motorcycles at the back alone, though. I'm
going to make straight for those radio cars. You take the rear turreted one.'

'You don't think by sniping you'll make them realize
we're behind them?'

'No - with the explosions and with Hep opening fire,
they won't be able to tell what the hell's going on.'

The Stuka attack was lessening as aircraft flew away
from the fray. The sound of machine-gun fire slackened. Tanner glanced at his
watch again. 'Damn it, come on!' he muttered. Anxiety was etched across Sykes's
face.

The first time-bomb exploded. Tanner saw the enemy
soldiers flinch and brought his aim to the officer, whose head was still just
visible among the swathe of men around him. He adjusted the distance, breathed
in, held it and squeezed. The shot cracked loud and sharp among the trees, the
butt of the rifle pressing back into his shoulder. The officer dropped,
spraying blood. At that instant, Hepworth opened fire with the Bren. Sykes had
already gone, but Tanner moved his aim to the second officer, who had initially
ducked into the turret but had now poked his head out again. It was the last
movement he made: Tanner pressed the trigger of his Lee-Enfield a second time.

Breathing out heavily, he took the rifle in his left
hand and ran forward. Men were already scattered on the ground. Flitting
between the trees, he sprinted forward. Ahead, Sykes was near the first
armoured car. Movement - a soldier was hurrying back to the motorcycle and now
grabbed the machine-gun. Tanner paused, pulled the rifle to his shoulder, drew
back the bolt and fired as the German was swivelling the weapon towards Sykes.

Tanner sped forward. Sykes had clambered onto the back
of the first armoured car. A crewman poked his head from the turret and Sykes
brought down his rifle butt, jerking the man's head backwards against the
circular steel rim. Then, with his teeth, Sykes pulled the pin from the
grenade, dropped it inside and jumped away.

'Watch out!' yelled Tanner, as another soldier ran
towards them, his pistol pointing from an outstretched arm. The grenade went
off, knocking the German off- balance, and Tanner shot him at almost
point-blank range, then ran on past, smashed another stunned soldier's head
with a short, hard swing of his rifle butt, and leaped onto one of the radio
cars as shells and bullets detonated inside the first vehicle. He dropped a
grenade into the turret, then swung himself off the metal radio frame as the
rear armoured car blew up.

'Bloody hell!' he said, as the blast swept over the
radio car and shards of jagged metal clattered against it. Quickly, he
scrambled to his feet and ran forward as the second grenade detonated, shrapnel
rattling. Ahead, he saw dazed men getting to their feet, so he took another
grenade, pulled the pin, hurled it towards them and leaped onto the next radio
car. A driver raised his head and a pistol but Tanner ducked and the bullets
fizzed uselessly over his head. Cocking his rifle, he stood up and fired,
hitting the man in the neck. He went down amid a fountain of blood. As Tanner
jumped onto the back of the vehicle, another German appeared round the side,
aimed his rifle, then fell backwards with a cry as a rake of bullets from
Hepworth's Bren hit him. Tanner threw another grenade into the car, jumped off
and realized the Bren had stopped firing.

'Hep!' he shouted, as he crouched by the side of the
fourth armoured vehicle. 'Hep! Why have you stopped firing?' With his rifle
ready, pulled into his shoulder, he sprang out in front of the car only to meet
Sykes with a German pistol in his hand. Ammunition inside the vehicle behind
them was going off like fireworks, so they got down, waiting for the next
blast.

'There's no one left to shoot, Sarge,' said Sykes.
'Look.'

Bodies were strewn across the road, blood seeping into
the grit and dust. The smell, mixed with the pungent stench of explosives,
petrol and burning rubber, was sickening, and Tanner's stomach tightened. The
motorcycles were ruined. Two were burning, while the others stood awkwardly,
riddled with bullet holes. Seven stunned Germans staggered in front of them,
their arms raised in surrender. Bullets were still detonating in the armoured
car behind them, whistling and pinging as they ricocheted around.

Tanner got to his feet. 'Right,' he said. 'We need to
move. We can't be sure this lot were the only recce troops around here.'

'What about the prisoners?' asked Sykes, as Hepworth,
eyes wide and disbelieving, came towards them.

Tanner tutted. 'We should probably take them with us.'
The lead armoured car was still untouched, save for a few dents from Hepworth's
bullets. The tyres were also undamaged. 'We could take this. Make them sit on
the outside. One of us can drive, another watch them from the turret and the
other ride one of their motorcycles. Check them for weapons, then get them to
move this lot off the road. And give them some beadies. Poor bastards've just
lost their mates.'

Tanner stepped around the bodies and walked a little
way along the track until he could look down to the canal. A thick pall of
smoke hung heavily over the French positions and was drifting in front of their
own lines, but he could hear vehicles starting up. Then another explosion
ripped through the air and he saw the bridge across the lock disappear in an
eruption of smoke, dust and debris.

'Bollocks,' he muttered. Then he saw that the bridge
at Oisquercq had been blown so that only its stone struts still stood, lonely
columns jutting out of the water. Amid the fury of their small battle, he had
not heard it go up. He reached for his binoculars. A hole had been blown in the
bridge over which they had come; the iron fencing stood bent and twisted. But
the gallery directly beneath it, which stood sentinel over the lock, remained
intact. He realized that the charges under the structure must have failed and
that the crater on the bridge must have been caused by a poorly aimed bomb. He
reckoned that any vehicle would struggle to cross it, but they themselves
would still get over. Now he let his eyes rest on the farm. The roof of the
house had collapsed, rubble and broken tiles heaped in the yard. Behind, a
number of vehicles stood burning and broken. There was no sign of life. He
lowered his binoculars, then brought them back to his eyes. Yes, there could be
no doubting it. Columns of men and vehicles were trailing west. The French were
pulling back.

Tanner hurried to the others. 'Hep, work out how to
drive this thing,' he said, pointing to the armoured car. 'Stan, get the
prisoners onto the front.' He noticed Sykes still held a pistol. 'Got enough
bullets for that?'

'Half a dozen clips, Sarge.'

'Good. I'm going to get the bike and have a quick look
behind us. Then we'll go.'

He strode past the line of wrecked armoured cars and
saw that, despite his intention to save both motorcycles at the back of the
column, the first lay on its side, petrol still leaking from its tank. The
second looked to be all right, so Tanner sat on it, knocked back the stand and
kicked down hard on the starter. The BMW engine roared into life. He gunned the
throttle, put it into gear, wheeled round and sped off.

Soon, he had cleared the wood. The road forked north
and south, but although there was another large wood half a mile to the south,
ahead, looking east, he had a clear line of vision. There was a village a
couple of miles off and beyond it the countryside stretched away, softly
undulating. He paused to peer through the binoculars. Ahead, in the far
distance, he saw a cloud of dust rising. 'The German advance,' he muttered to
himself. How far away was it? Ten miles? Fifteen? If he was right, they would
reach the river in an hour, maybe two.

At the sound of vehicles he turned. Another column of
German armoured cars and motorbikes was emerging from the wood to the south. He
waved at them, turned the bike round and sped back.

Drawing up alongside the armoured car, he was relieved
to hear the engine ticking over. Sykes was standing half out of the turret.
'There's another recce column half a mile away,' he said. 'Has Hep worked out
how to drive that thing?'

'I think so.'

'Good. Head straight down this track - it leads to the
canal - and make a lot of noise. We don't want any of our lot shooting at us.'

Sykes shouted at Hepworth. The gears ground noisily
and then, with a jerk that nearly jolted several prisoners off the front, the
armoured car lurched forward. Slowly -
too slowly,
thought Tanner - they rumbled out of the wood and down the slope towards the
canal. The dust and smoke had now all but gone and Tanner saw ever more clearly
the damage done by the Stukas. Craters dotted the far bank and the fields
behind the farm. The buildings were more wrecked than he had first appreciated.

As they reached the track along the canal, a shot
cracked out from the far bank, then another. Both were wide, but Tanner stopped
and waved his arms frantically above his head. 'Don't shoot!' he shouted.
'We're Rangers!'

Then a burst of machine-gun fire came from behind,
kicking a line of earth between him and the armoured car. Turning, he saw
several motorcycles speeding out of the wood, manned machine-guns in the
sidecars.

'Damn it!' said Tanner, and gunned the throttle as
another burst of ill-directed fire hissed over his head. 'Stan!' he yelled.
'Get Hep to put his bloody foot down!'

Hepworth did so, and the armoured car was suddenly
speeding forward. His steering was wild and as he swerved against the bank of
the track, one of the prisoners fell. Tanner nearly lost control as he dodged
round the man. He glanced back. For the moment, they had lost their pursuers.
Dust and grit were getting into his eyes and he cursed himself for not taking a
set of German goggles. On they sped, round the turning circle in the canal, and
then they were climbing back up the bank towards the lock.

Hurtling past the armoured car, Tanner skidded to a
halt, leaped off the motorcycle and quickly examined the bridge. The damage was
far worse than he had originally thought. An ugly crater lay at one end, while
large cracks ran down the side and across the gallery. Suddenly, he heard the
structure creak as though it might collapse at any moment. If that happened
while they were crossing they would all be dead.

'Stan, get Hep out quick!' he shouted.

Sykes motioned to the prisoners to jump off and, with
his pistol, led them to the damaged bridge. 'Go on,' he said, waving his arms.
'Cross the bridge.
Geht!'

They did as they were ordered, sidling past the
crater, as Hepworth jumped down from the armoured car. The bridge groaned
again, prompting anxious glances from the prisoners. Tanner looked back down
the track. Where were the enemy? Perhaps they feared attack themselves. He
turned to Hepworth. 'Go on, Hep!' he said. 'Bloody get your arse over that
bridge.'

There were shouts now from the far side and Tanner
turned to see Peploe emerge from the trees, urging them to hurry. A moment
later a cannon shell whammed into the ground not ten yards from where Tanner
was crouching.

'Jesus!' Looking round, he saw an armoured car and
several motorcycles on the brow of the hill directly behind them. Another
cannon shell hit the side of the armoured car, then a machine-gun sputtered and
Tanner ran onto the bridge as bullets kicked into the ground.

'Come on, Sarge!' yelled Sykes, as a Bren opened up
from the other bank. Tanner saw him sheltering behind a small brick hut on the
far side of the bridge. The prisoners now ran across the open ground between
the hut and the safety of the trees. Tanner saw one fall. Another burst of
enemy machine-gun fire ripped through the centre of the bridge.
Bloody hell
, he thought, then took a deep breath and
raced over the crater. Immediately another burst chattered, bullets pinging
around him. A second Bren opened fire, and rifle shots cracked from the far
bank too. Bullets whistled overhead and along the bridge, clattering into the
metalwork and concrete and into the murky water in the lock. The bridge groaned
again as he sprinted towards the hut, sliding behind it beside Sykes and
Hepworth. But it was still another thirty yards to the trees.

'Come on, boys,' muttered Tanner, looking towards the
Rangers hidden in the trees, 'keep bloody firing.' He glanced back and saw that
the enemy armoured car and motorcycles were now pulling back.
Thank God.
Several more rifles cracked out and a Bren
clattered.

'Looks like Jerry's had enough,' said Sykes. 'Reckon
it's safe to make a dash for it?'

Tanner nodded. Sykes went first, then Hepworth, and
when he had watched them scurry across the open ground, he made a run for it
himself. As he did so, he felt something sear his side. Grimacing as he ran, he
gazed up and saw Blackstone, kneeling by a tree towards the canal bank,
lowering his rifle.