Darkest Hour (33 page)

Soon after, Rommel swept in and asked the officers to
gather round an old table on which he spread a map of Arras and the surrounding
countryside. Taking off his cap, he followed a few imaginary lines with his
finger.

'My plan, gentlemen, is now to thrust northwards,
towards Lille. The bulk of both our divisions have caught up at long last, we
have received new supplies of fuel and ammunition and we can afford to launch
this next thrust with far more men than we have done so far.' There were a few
amused glances. 'Tomorrow Seventh Panzer, led by Oberst Rothenburg's Twenty-fifth
Panzer Regiment, will push west of Arras and try to capture the bridges over
the river Scarpe at Acq - here.' He pointed to the village, some ten kilometres
north-west of Arras. 'Two rifle regiments, the Sixth and Seventh, will follow,
while the Totenkopf will thrust on our left flank and take the bridges at
Aubigny.' He turned to Timpke. 'I understand you reached Aubigny this
afternoon, Major?'

Ignoring Rommel's use of
Wehrmacht
rank rather than
Waffen-SS,
Timpke cleared his
throat and said, 'Yes, Herr General. We came under some inaccurate machine-gun
fire, followed by a few howitzer shells, but nothing much. The river looked
narrow there, too. Fordable in places, I'd say.'

'In any case,' said Rommel, 'the Scarpe to the northwest
of Arras is far smaller than it is east of the city - and considerably less
well defended. We will encircle the city from the west and sever the British
lines of communication.'

'What about aerial support?' asked Eicke.

'The
Luftwaffe
has been bombing the area and will continue to do so this afternoon and
tomorrow morning.' He stood up. 'Any more questions?' He looked at Eicke.
'Thank you, Brigadefuhrer, for joining us. How you deploy your men is, of
course, entirely up to you.' Briefly, he was silent. 'We have yet to come up
against the British so do not underestimate them. But we have achieved great
things so far. Fortune, momentum and, of course, experience are now with us.
They are formidable attributes, especially when combined.' He smiled and his
face, stern and patrician a moment before, now softened. 'Good luck, gentlemen.
Tomorrow will be an exciting day.'

As Rommel left the bar, Timpke drank from his bottle
of beer. The general's men might not have come up against the British, but
Timpke had - those swine had taken four of his vehicles from under his nose,
and had killed and wounded a number of his men. A renewed flash of anger swept
over him as he recalled the events of the previous night. Well, he would have
his revenge. No
Englander
would enjoy such
success against him or his men again, he promised himself.

D Company, 1st Battalion, the Yorkshire Rangers, had
made it to Vimy, had found the brigade-major and been sent promptly to the
nearby village of Givenchy, near the base of Vimy Ridge, where they were told
to lie up. At dawn the following morning they were to form up back in Vimy,
where they would join the right-hand column attacking south.

It meant the men had a long afternoon and evening to
kill. Tanner had seen they were nervous, jittery, even - Christ, he felt
nervous himself. The feverish atmosphere that consumed the village hadn't
helped. There were apprehensive locals - the parish priest among them - and
exhausted, frightened refugees with their sad collection of worldly belongings,
and not all were pleased to see British soldiers around the church and
mairie,
or to find army trucks parked between the lime
trees in the square. Above, enemy aircraft had buzzed and swirled, prompting
panic among the civilians. When, that evening, several Junkers 88s had swept
over low, dropping their bombs on the village, pandemonium had erupted. No one
had been hurt, but the hysterical sobbing from one young woman in particular
had been unsettling.

'Can't someone shut that silly bitch up?' muttered
McAllister, casting resentful glances in her direction. They were spread out in
a corner of the church, some cleaning their weapons, some playing cards, others
trying to sleep on the hard wooden pews.

'Poor girl's probably lost everything,' said Sykes.
'Come on, Mac, how would you feel if your home was bombed?'

'I'd write the Hun what did it a thank-you note,' said
McAllister. 'Bloody hovel, my place is.'

They laughed.

'Actually, now you mention it, I wouldn't mind them
flattening my old place either,' Sykes grinned.

'I've just remembered, Mac,' said Tanner. 'You're
saving up for that house in Harrogate, aren't you?'

'I am, Sarge. I'm not going back to Bradford. I've got
two pounds six and six so far.'

'You'd better stop playing Stan at cards, then.'

Blackstone was standing beside them. 'All right,
boys?'

'No, Sergeant-Major,' said McAllister. 'That woman
crying - it's getting on our nerves.'

'Leave it to me, Mac,' he said, and walked up to the
front of the church where several other civilians were crouched around her.

'What's he up to?' said McAllister.

Tanner now got up from the pew on which he was lying
and watched Blackstone squat beside the woman. His back was towards them so it
was hard to tell what he was doing, but almost immediately the sobbing stopped,
and a few minutes later the woman, surrounded by several others, stood up and
walked out of the church.

'Well, I'm damned,' muttered Sykes.

"Ere, sir!' McAllister called to Blackstone, who
was following the procession. 'What did you say to her?'

Blackstone came over. 'Told her it was her lucky day
and that I'd see her behind the church in ten minutes.' The men laughed.
'Actually, I gave her a slug of cognac and a few francs. Booze and money, lads
- it's what makes the world go round.' He grinned. 'Ready for some heroics
tomorrow, Jack?'

Tanner said nothing, so Blackstone turned back to the
others, shrugged -
what's his problem?
- winked
and sauntered outside.

'He's a funny bloke, isn't he?' said Hepworth.

Ha bloody ha
, thought Tanner. He wondered where Blackstone had got
the cognac and francs from - knowing him, they'd probably been stolen. He lay
down again on the pew and closed his eyes.

He was awake the moment Hepworth shook his shoulder,
although momentarily disoriented. It was dark now in the church, the only light
cast by several rows of candles beneath the pulpit. He sat up and looked at his
watch-2215. 'What is it?'

'The OC wants to see you, Sarge.'

'Where is he?'

'In the bar across the far side of the square.'

Tanner stood up, slung his rifle over his shoulder,
then went out of the church, round the front of the building and into the
square. It was quiet now. Tanner wondered where all the refugees had gone - he
supposed they had either moved on or taken shelter somewhere in the village; in
the
mairie
, perhaps, or in some of the
abandoned houses.
Christ knows.
He walked across
the road and to the bar. But there was no sign of Captain Barclay so he stepped
back outside and began to walk back across the road towards the trucks.

He was conscious of movement at either side of him,
but before he could react, three men had leaped at him, the first hitting him
hard with a wooden cudgel across the stomach. He gasped as the breath was
knocked out of him and doubled up, only for a second man to knock him to the
ground, where his head was saved from slamming against the gravel by the rim of
his tin hat. He grabbed one man's legs, yanked hard and pulled him over. Then
he swung his fist into the man's jaw, momentarily surprised to see, in the dim
light, that the fellow wore civilian clothes. Hands clasped his neck and hauled
him away. He thrust his arm backwards, heard the man gasp, but the third figure
punched him in the stomach, then again across the face. Tanner tasted blood and
pain coursed through him. His rifle had fallen from his shoulder and now he
kicked out in front of him as, with his left hand, he felt for his sword
bayonet. The man behind still had him tightly by the neck, then a blow
connected with his kidney, making him cry out in pain.

'Oi, stop that!' said a voice, followed by a single
revolver shot into the air. The effect was immediate: his neck was released,
Tanner fell back on to the ground, and two assailants ran off down the street,
their footsteps ringing out in the evening quiet. The third got to his feet
groggily and ran off too.

'Good job I turned up, Jack.'

Tanner's spirits fell further.
Bloody Blackstone.
'Thanks,' he muttered, getting slowly
to his feet. He leaned back against one of the Opels and felt his face. His
cheekbone was cut and his lip was bleeding. His stomach and side were bruised,
too, but the damage might have been worse. He had survived harsher beatings
than this one.

'What the bloody hell was all that about?' asked
Blackstone, now beside him.

'God knows,' muttered Tanner. 'They just jumped on
me.'

'Here,' said Blackstone. 'Have a swig of this.' He
passed Tanner a bottle of cognac and Tanner drank, the liquid stinging his
mouth and burning his throat.

'Thanks,' he said again.

'Don't know what would have happened if I hadn't shown
up,' said Blackstone. 'Three against one. Could have been nasty.' He struck a
match, whistled, then lit a cigarette. 'Whoah! You're a pretty sight, Jack.'

'I'll live,' said Tanner.

'Reckon you owe me one now, though.'

'Oh, here we go,' snapped Tanner. 'What do you want?'

'No need to be so touchy. Christ, I save your bloody
life and you're having a go at me already.'

'Just spit it out.'

Blackstone chuckled. 'It's a simple thing, really,
Jack.' He moved a step closer. Tanner smelt the mixture of tobacco and brandy
on his breath. 'Start being a bit friendly, like. As I said to you the other
night, I run this company, all right? We do things my way, not yours and Mr
Peploe's.'

'Jesus,' said Tanner, 'is that what this is about? You
and your sodding little fiefdom?' He laughed croakily.

'Will you start being a good boy, Jack?' said
Blackstone. 'You're causing me all manner of trouble.'

Tanner's fists clenched and he stiffened. 'You set
this up, didn't you?'

Blackstone moved even closer to him. 'I've tried,
Jack, tried to be nice, tried to be friendly. Offered olive branch after olive
branch. I'm telling you now. Do as I ask, Jack. Life will be better for
everyone if you do.'

Tanner pushed him away. 'Bugger off, Blackstone, will
you?'

'I'm not warning you again.'

Tanner straightened, then pushed past him.

'Very well, Jack,' said Blackstone, after him. 'On
your head be it.'

It was not until around seven the following morning,
Tuesday, 21 May, that General Lord Gort learned that the French would not be
attacking simultaneously with Frankforce. It was Captain de Vogue who rang
Major- General Pownall to break the news. Shortly afterwards the liaison
officer at General Billotte's headquarters, Major Archdale, confirmed the
French decision.

'I'm sorry, my lord, but all they can spare is Third
DLM and a few Somua tanks,' said Pownall, from the uncomfortable wooden chair
in front of the commander- in-chief's desk that he had spent so many hours on
since their move to Wahagnies. He yawned. 'Excuse me,' he muttered. Outside, it
was warm already. The morning mist was lifting, the haze in the garden suffused
with a promising brightness.

'Here,' said Gort, irritation in his voice. 'Have some
coffee.' He stood up and leaned across his desk to the wooden tray on which
stood a coffee pot and the remains of a light breakfast. He poured his
chief-of-staff

a cup, then said, 'So
Altmayer's cracking up, too, is he?'

'Says his men are exhausted and in no position to
fight today. Tomorrow is the earliest they could join us.'

'It'll be too damn late by then. You've read the
latest sitrep?'

Pownall nodded. 'The Germans have reached Abbeville.'

'And Billotte agrees with Blanchard and Altmayer?'

'According to Archdale, Billotte's been spending his
time agonizing over whether a fuel dump should be blown up rather than
organizing any counter-attack. And he's moved his HQ to Bethune, which has
taken time and caused communication problems. Archdale thinks Billotte's losing
his marbles entirely.'

'The devil!' Gort thumped his fist on the table.
'Now's the time to strike - now! It's only the Hun cavalry that's been sending
us reeling. The main bulk of the German Army is still miles behind. A big
effort today and we slice the head of the German advance from the body. Delay,
and the rest will catch up. Then it'll be too late.' He shook his head. 'At
least One and Three Corps are holding their line, but let's face it, Henry, if
the Germans reach the coast, our lines of supply are going to be buggered.
What's the food and ammunition situation?'