'No more walking, then?' said Hepworth.
'No, all things being well.'
'In that case, Sarge . . .'
'Hold on, Hep,' said McAllister, 'we've still got to get it. This is about those Jerries Tinker and the Corp saw, isn't it, Sarge?'
'Yes,' said Tanner. 'A Jerry unit's moved into the village and, more specifically, into the farm. Now there are four vehicles parked up on the side of the road outside. Three look like those Opels we nabbed in Norway. The other's a bit different but it can't be that hard to start. We don't even need to go into the farm itself. We'll head across the fields, then into the orchard and come out at the road by the wall of the farm. I'll creep out and check the coast's clear. Then, Mac, you run forward with Ellis and set up the Bren on the other side of the road facing the archway into the yard. Stan, what have you still got in your bag of tricks? I'm wondering whether we can knock down that archway and block those other Jerry vehicles inside.'
'Not sure, Sarge. Might be tricky to get it in the right place. Could probably manage a trip-wire of some kind. Why don't we just throw some grenades at the vehicles?'
'Possibly. We'll see when we get there.'
'And what if there are guards or troops in the trucks?'
'If there are guards, we'll kill them silently. If there are troops, we'll just have to spray them with the Bren - Mac, make sure you don't fire near the engines. We need the trucks to work, all right?'
McAllister nodded.
'Right,' Tanner continued. 'Who remembers how to drive those Opels?'
'Think so, Sarge,' said Bell.
'I can,' added Kershaw.
'Good,' said Tanner. 'Kay - you take the last truck. Dusty - you go with him and give him cover.' Kershaw and Rhodes nodded. 'I'll take the smaller one with you, Hep. Stan, you're in the one next to the arch with Verity and, 'Tinker, you grab the first with Denning - all right, Dasher?'
'Yes, Sarge,' said Denning.
'Punter,' Tanner continued, turning to Chambers, 'you cover the corp. You'll all need a reamer.' He delved into his haversack and pulled out a set of five, standard issue with a Bren, but which Tanner kept for use on his rifle and as a spare should it be needed. The largest was too big, he remembered, but the rest were fine. He took four from the ring that held them together and handed them out.
'All right, listen. It's going to be dark and speed'll be everything. Remember, you'll be driving on the right, not the left. On the dashboard beside the steering-wheel is the ignition - there's a small metal plate underneath it. If there's no key, put the reamer into the ignition, then bend it upwards slightly to hold it in place. When you do this a red light should come on in the centre of the ignition button. Push the button to start the engine. Left foot clutch, top left for first on the gearstick. Handbrake is an ordinary ratchet lever to the right of the gearstick. Got that?'
The men nodded.
'Good, then let's go. There's a half-moon, but keep close.'
As they reached the orchard, Tanner raised his hand for them to halt. He was relieved to see them all safely there. 'Follow me to the wall,' he whispered. Half crouching, they made their way through the apple trees, then along the wall, Tanner wincing at every chink and audible footfall. At the road, he raised his hand again and stopped. At least the breeze had strengthened, dampening the noise and carrying any sound north-easterly away from the farm. Above, the moon shone palely through the cloud.
'Everyone ready?'
The men nodded silently.
'Good. Stan, cover me, will you?' He drew out his sword bayonet and, keeping to the softer grassy verge between the farm wall and the road, stepped forward towards the first truck. Reaching it, he glanced around and then peered into the cab, breathing a small sigh of relief that it was, as he had thought, an Opel. Slowly, he moved to the end of the truck and, seeing the tailgate was down, peered in. Empty. Good.
Suddenly he heard a cough just ahead and someone spoke. He squatted behind the front wing of the next truck. Two men were talking by the archway. Guards. He heard the strike of a match, then another and another. Struggling to light a beadie in this breeze. Pausing, he wondered what to do. One of the men laughed - lit at last! They spoke some more, then stepped out onto the road. Tanner dropped to his knees and bent his head to look under the truck. Yes, a guard was walking out into the road he could just see the booted feet; a pause, then the man turned left towards the first truck. Where was the other? Tanner looked again. Must be under the arch.
Now was the moment. Deftly, he got to his feet, waited until he heard the guard walk almost level with him on the far side of the Opel, then moved towards the other end. He crouched, listened, then dashed from the last bit of verge to the edge of the arch and clicked his tongue against his teeth.
As he had hoped, he heard movement - boots on stone and, a second later, a guard stepped out of the shadows. Tanner leaped at him, holding his right forearm tight against the front of the man's throat, preventing him making a sound, and with his left plunging the bayonet into the man's side and through his kidney, killing him instantly. He dragged him clear of the archway as the dead man's weapon clattered to the ground. He dropped him and grabbed the short-barrelled weapon, then heard the first guard walk back quickly.
'Hans?' called the guard. 'Sind Sie gut?'
'Ja, ja,' Tanner replied, put the weapon back on the ground, took several quick paces to the end of the truck, waited for the man to pass, then stepped out into the road. The guard had barely time to realize someone was behind him before Tanner had yanked back his head, arm over his throat, and stuck his bayonet into the German's side. Noiselessly, the man went limp, and Tanner carried him to the grass verge and laid him down.
Now he edged back towards the arch and peered round it. The yard and farm seemed still. He waited a moment, straining his eyes. Thicker cloud had covered the moon and it was dark in there. He could only just discern the shape of the vehicles and buildings even though his eyes were fully adjusted to the night light. He wondered if anyone had been posted in the tower, although he guessed the trucks would be almost out of view for someone up there. Surely men would be in the stables and outbuildings, though. Had someone heard anything? It was time to get a move on.
He ran back to the others. 'We're clear for the time being,' he whispered. 'The trucks are empty. Mac and Billy - jump into the tail of the second rather than going to the far side of the road.'
'Sarge,' mouthed McAllister.
'And, Hedley, you come with me and Hepworth,' he whispered, tapping Verity. 'Hep, there's an MG on our vehicle. Get on it right away. All of you, get to your positions as quietly and quickly as possible. Go along the grass verge, not the road. And no one start their engine until I give the signal.' He turned to Sykes. 'What do you think?'
'I've got a packet of Nobels ready,' he murmured.
'All right,' said Tanner. 'Mac and Billy go first, then Kay and Dusty.'
He followed Sykes to the archway. His heart was pounding and his mouth tasted as dry as chalk, but his head was clear. Sykes looked at the doors, and both men pushed themselves back against the outer wall.
Tanner glanced round, saw McAllister and Ellis jumping on to the back of the truck, and Hepworth climbing into the six-wheeler. Christ, the noise. They'll wake the whole sodding lot up.
Sykes was now pulling one of the wooden doors. 'Get the other one, Sarge,' he hissed.
The ageing hinges creaked, causing Tanner's stomach to lurch and his heart to hammer even harder. Sykes now had the packet of explosives in his hands and was pulling out a length of fuse. Tanner watched for a moment, then hurried back to the two bodies. He liked the look of the weapon he had taken and rummaged through the first man's ammunition pouches. He found half a dozen narrow metal magazines. Then he patted the man's pockets, hoping he would feel what he was looking for - cigarettes - but when he tried to take them he realized the man was wearing a smock over his tunic and had to delve inside to reach the breast pocket. As he pulled out the ciga
rettes he noticed an embroidered skull and cross- bones on the right-hand side of the collar. Glancing back, he saw Sykes motioning to him frantically to hurry to the truck.
Nodding, Tanner felt in his pocket for his reamer. Then, with one hand on the spare wheel at the side, he jumped up into the open cab and felt around the dashboard, trying desperately to find the ignition and starter.
Suddenly he heard voices from inside the yard and, at the same moment, as the moon emerged from behind the clouds once more, he found what he was sure was the ignition, down to the left of the steering-wheel. More voices. Damn it, damn it, come on! Fumbling with the reamer, he pushed it into the ignition and pressed the small round button above it. The engine burst into life as shouts rang out inside the yard. A moment later the gates were pushed violently open and several soldiers appeared. In the thin light, Tanner could see their surprise and horror. Behind him, the machine-gun now opened fire, the deafening noise making him jump. Then McAllister's Bren was spitting bullets from the truck in front, small stabs of orange fire blindingly bright in the dark night air. Immediately the men at the gates crumpled to the ground.
'Go!' Tanner shouted. 'Go! Go! Go!'
One engine started, then another. Behind him, he was conscious of Kershaw moving forward in the fourth truck, past his own vehicle. Shots cracked out - where from? Tanner sensed pandemonium now inside the farm as he felt down to his right for the handbrake. Where the hell was it? He fumbled blindly.
'Get moving, Sarge!' Hepworth was shouting. 'Get bloody moving.'
Another shot whizzed past his ear - must be from the stables- and pinged off the metal dashboard. Sod the handbrake, he thought, put his foot on the clutch, rammed the gearstick into first and lurched forward, inching out past Sykes's truck. Why hadn't the explosion gone off? And then he saw Sykes leap out of his cab, engine running, and dash to the gate. Come on, Stan - get out of there - and realized that the first truck hadn't moved.
'Bloody hell,' he muttered, moving alongside. 'What's the problem?' he yelled to Bell.
'I've dropped my reamer,' said Bell.
Damn! Tanner jumped from the cab as McAllister's Bren continued to rattle behind, leaped into Bell's truck and, taking his torch from his trouser pocket, shone it at the floor - there was no need for secrecy now. He saw the reamer almost immediately and, leaning against Bell, pushed it into the ignition, yanked it upwards and pressed the starter, just as Hepworth opened fire once more with the German machine-gun.
'Sarge!' shouted Hepworth. 'We've got to go - now!'
Tanner glanced back and saw Sykes moving out, arms waving, urging them forward.
'Bollocks,' said Tanner, dropped to the ground and, with one bound, leaped back into his stolen truck, thrust it into gear and sped forward. Bell was now moving in his truck too and, swivelling his head backwards, Tanner saw Sykes so close to his rear that the two trucks were almost touching. From the corner of his eye he saw enemy troops emerge from the archway and open fire, arcs of tracer from their machine-gun cutting across the night sky and following them along the road. A split-second later a blast of orange light erupted from the gateway, enveloping the Germans and spewing broken brick, wood and iron. Tanner felt its draught on his neck and looked back to see Hepworth drop into the seat behind. At the same time, above the throaty roar of the truck's engine, he heard falling masonry.
'Hep?' he shouted. 'Are you all right?'
'Just about,' came the reply.
'Can you see anything?'
'I can't now but I could a moment ago. The tower collapsed all right, Sarge.'
Tanner laughed. Perfect.
His plan had worked. The company had its transport.
Chapter 12
Sturmbannfuhrer Otto Timpke had been fast asleep in the farmhouse when he was woken by the commotion. He had flung on his shirt, breeches and boots and had been about to hurry downstairs when the explosion had occurred. The bright glare had lit up the house and yard and he had stopped, frozen momentarily to the spot. Shards of stone, brick and grit peppered the farmhouse, tinkling on the roof and against the walls; a window-pane smashed, then another, while outside in the yard, the deafening thunder of collapsing masonry seemed to engulf the farm, shaking the house to its foundations.
By the time Timpke had grabbed his belt and holster, then run downstairs with a hurricane lamp and out into the yard, a choking cloud of dust filled the air, trapped, so it seemed, by the surrounding buildings and walls. Men were racing from the house and barns; some were coughing and spluttering, others crying out in agony.
It was hard to see what damage had been done or how, but he strode forward, clutching his lamp, and nearly tripped over a damaged motorcycle. Cursing, he stepped aside. Torches - electric and flame - now glowed through the swirling dust. Timpke put a handkerchief to his mouth and, reaching the entrance, paused, aghast. The archway, tower and parts of the adjoining stable blocks had been completely destroyed. All that was left was a jagged pile of rubble, wood and brick. A motorcycle and sidecar lay nearby, bent and skewed, almost completely covered with fallen brickwork.
'Herr Sturmbannfuhrer,' said a voice next to him.
Timpke neither spoke nor moved, his face rigid with fury.
'Herr Sturmbannfuhrer,' said the voice again, and this time Timpke turned towards his adjutant, Hauptsturm-fuhrer Kemmetmuler.
'What happened?' He spoke quietly, slowly.
'Sabotage, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer. And the men who did this stole the trucks left outside the farm. I've radioed to One Company and they'll give chase.'
'Stop them, Kemmetmuler. It's dark and they won't be able to catch them. We don't want to lose any more men or vehicles.'
He punched a fist into the other hand. 'Whose platoon was on guard duty this evening?'
'Untersturmfuhrer Reichmann's, Herr Sturmbann-fuhrer.'
'Bring him to me. We'll do what we can now for the injured, but we'll clear up this mess at first light. I shall be in the farmhouse. And post more guards.'
By the time he was back in his temporary battalion headquarters inside the farmhouse, Timpke was still numb. He sat down at a dark oak dining-table, took out his silver cigarette case and, tapping the end of a Turkish cigarette, realized his hands were shaking - so much so that he struggled to light it. How could this have happened? How? It was not possible: the area was clear of enemy - this part of southern Belgium was in German hands now. And, in any case, there had been guards posted around the farm. How could any saboteurs have got through such a cordon? He smashed his fist on the table.
There was a knock and Kemmetmuler came into the room. He had brought Untersturmfuhrer Reichmann with him. The young platoon commander clicked his boots together and saluted. He looked clean, Timpke thought - too clean. Apart from a smear of dust on one sleeve of his tunic and a smudge of dirt across his cheek, he was unblemished.
Timpke sat back in his chair, leaving Reichmann standing stiffly to attention.
'I've been wondering,' said Timpke slowly, his voice betraying his anger, 'how any saboteurs could get to this farm, steal four trucks, then blow up an entire tower and half of two buildings undetected. How can this be, when I gave express orders for there to be a guard on this entire compound?' He stood up and walked towards Reichmann. 'Perhaps, Reichmann, you could tell me how you had your men deployed.'
Reichmann was shorter than Timpke, a thick-set young man with dark eyebrows and a heavy forehead. His hair was shaved at the sides but slicked back with pomade underneath his field cap. Timpke smelled sour alcohol on his breath.
'I used Unterscharfuhrer Liebmann's group, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.'
'Just one group?'
'Yes, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer. With my approval, he placed two men in the tower, two men by the archway, two men at the front and three others watching elsewhere.'
'Where exactly?' said Timpke.
Reichmann swallowed hard. 'Around the farm, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.'
'Where they cannot have been watching very closely, can t
hey?' He leaned over the table a moment, clutching the edge with both hands. 'One group,' he said, louder now, 'of which I am beginning to think half must have been sleeping.'
'It was dark, sir. The men were watching, but it was night.'
'Not good enough, Reichmann. Good God, your men have ears, do they not?'
'Yes, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer, but—'
'Be quiet, Reichmann! This is the battalion headquarters and, quite apart from the personnel, we have important equipment and vehicles here. Do you have any idea how hard Brigadefuhrer Eicke had to work to get our vehicles? Most of the Wehrmacht troops still use horses and their own two feet. Do you understand how fortunate we are to have these vehicles? And you go and lose not one but four? And that does not include those damaged here.'
He had tried to contain his rage, to speak with a controlled calm, but standing in front of him was this disgrace of an officer - an ugly brute with a bad accent and the stench of wine on his breath. Had all that training, and all those lectures, been for nothing?
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