'Sounds like Jerry's making a play for the bridge,' said Tanner, as they crept to the back of the cottage. 'Stan, get to work on the cottage, will you? We don't want any Germans using it. Hep, come with me.'
They ran, in a crouch, across the lawn to the far corner beside the willow and, lying on the ground, Tanner peered between the hedge and the tree. He could see the road from L'Avenir leading to the bridge but a track went to a farmhouse by the bridge. German troops were scurrying forward, either side of the road and track, using it as cover. At the end of the track, perhaps two hundred yards away, there was a small cottage and a barn. From where he was, Tanner could just see a mortar team and another anti-tank gun behind it.
Pulling the big Boys rifle into position so that it poked through the hedge, he brought the padded shoulderpiece tight against him and lowered the front support. He had already fitted a five-round magazine and, having adjusted the backsight to two hundred yards, pulled back the bolt, lifted the safety catch and aimed straight at the enemy anti-tank gun.
'Hep, you ready with that Bren?'
'Yes, Sarge.'
'Good. The moment I fire, open up on those Jerries advancing towards the bridge, all right?'
'Sarge.'
Tanner squeezed the trigger and felt the big gun kick hard into his shoulder, then immediately fired again. To his relief, he saw both .55 bullets smack into the gun- shield and topple it. He fired another and one of the gunners was almost sheared in half. The mortar team now looked around nervously - where the hell had that come from? - but before they could react, a third bullet had ripped into the weapon. 'That's got you,' muttered Tanner. He jumped up and ran to the other side of the garden while Hepworth continued to fire short, sharp bursts from the Bren.
Peering through the other side of the hedge, Tanner saw the gun that had been firing at the attic. Quickly bringing the Boys into position again, he was conscious of bullets ripping through the hedge, and twigs being spat onto the lawn beside him. He fired several rounds, saw the bullets strike home, then called to Sykes. 'Stan - you nearly done?'
'Yes, Sarge.'
'Good, let's go. Hep, time to call it a day.' More bullets flew through the hedge, so he crawled to the side of the cottage, then turned to see Hepworth make a dash for it. He had not gone two paces before he fell forward with a cry.
'Hep!' called Tanner.
'Bastard's got me in the back of the leg!'
'All right, I'm coming to get you.' Tanner crawled back to him, grabbed his shoulders, then pulled him towards the cover of the cottage. Keeping Hepworth flat on his belly, he pulled out several field dressings, tore open the thin linen casing and wrapped them tightly round Hepworth's bleeding leg. 'We need to get him back quickly,' he said.
'Let me plant some jelly mounds in some of the vehicles, though, Sarge. You think you can carry Hep?'
'I'll have to.'
From the safety of the front of the cottage, Tanner heaved Hepworth over his shoulder and grabbed the Boys in his spare hand while Sykes took the Bren. Hurrying onto the road, praying that no German would see them, he hastened past the line of burned-out trucks to the boat, groaning at the combined weight of Hepworth, the Boys and his webbing.
'Come on, Stan!' he called, as he squatted with Hepworth on the bank.
A moment later, Sykes slid down beside him and got into the boat, which rocked. Passing him the Boys, Tanner said, 'Have you got her steady?'
'I think so.'
Tanner cursed, then almost lost his balance, with one foot in the boat and the other still on the bank. A shell hit the canal thirty yards further towards the bridge and he almost fell over again, but then, with Sykes's help, he lowered himself, Hepworth still over his shoulder, into the dinghy.
On the other side of the canal, Peploe and Ellis were there to help pull Hepworth, crying out with pain and fear, from the boat. Having passed up the weapons, Tanner and Sykes followed, then scuttled the dinghy and ran along the trench to the rear of the farmhouse.
'We knocked out a couple of anti-tank guns and a mortar,' said Tanner breathlessly, 'and Hep got some Jerry infantry but there's so many of them.'
'Like the hydra's head,' said Peploe. 'You chop off one, and more grow in its place.'
'A bit like that, yes, sir.'
Peploe took a swig from his hip-flask and offered it to Tanner. 'Calvados. I just filled up.'
'Thanks,' said Tanner, taking it.
'We've got two more wounded - two men from Ross's section. That's five now. We need to get them out of here and back to the beaches, but I can't think how.'
'Can the others walk?'
'One can.'
'Get a runner to go down to Battalion HQ. Maybe they can send a car up for them.'
'But we're already down to twenty-five men.'
'I know, but all we can do now, sir, is sit in our trenches and wait for enemy troops to appear. We can't do any more about the artillery and mortars apart from pray they don't land directly in any of our trenches.'
'All right. I'll send Ellis.'
Tanner went to see Hepworth. He was laid out with the other wounded men behind the last of the outbuildings, his face drained of colour. Smailes was with them, binding wounds and injecting morphine.
'I'm sorry, Hep,' he said.
'My fault, Sarge,' he croaked. 'Should have crawled like you.'
'At least you'll get away from here. Billy's gone to get some transport to take you to the beaches.'
Hepworth smiled weakly. 'I'd rather have stayed,' he said. 'We've been through a lot together the past few weeks.'
Tanner clasped his shoulder, then went back to the canal.
The enemy's assault on the junction with the bridge was successfully repulsed by the Coldstreams and the Rangers, and for the next few hours the German infantry made no further attempt to attack. There was, however, no let-up from their artillery and mortar teams, and shells rained down on their positions throughout the afternoon. Nonetheless, Ellis successfully reached Battalion Headquarters, and just before three o'clock two carriers made it to the back of the farm and took not only D Company's wounded but A and B Companies' too.
Unpleasant though it was to be crouching in damp, muddy trenches as mortar and artillery shells exploded around him, Tanner knew that in soft ground the enemy ordnance was, for the most part, ineffective. Plumes of water and earth ballooned into the air, but apart from a regular shower of mud, the men were safe, so long as no shell landed directly on top of them. As the afternoon wore on, he and Peploe hurried up and down the trench, making sure the men were all right and that they had enough cigarettes and food.
Most were holding up well, but Tanner was increasingly concerned for Verity, who seemed paralysed with fear in the trench to the right of the farmhouse. His face was ashen and he would accept no food, drink or cigarettes; instead, he clutched his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.
'I don't know what to do about him, sir,' Tanner said to Peploe. 'He's better off out of here, to be honest.'
'It's too late for that. We should have sent him out with the carriers.' He ducked as another shell tore into the upper part of the farmhouse amid a cloud of dust, grit and tumbling masonry. 'Hell. The poor fellow.'
'I didn't think of it then, sir,' said Tanner, 'but I'm worried he's going to be hard to shift. He can't do anything.'
'Well, I don't know what to suggest.' Peploe sighed wearily and took another swig from his flask. 'I never knew it was so exhausting being shelled like this. What do you think will happen? I can't bear the thought of us all ending up in the bag. Such a bloody waste.'
'I don't know, sir. But I'm sure Jerry's preparing for another attack. Maybe we'll hold him again, but we can't keep on doing so for ever. There's simply too many of them and not enough of us.'
The attack, when it came, was every bit as hard as Tanner had known it would be. Just after six o'clock, enemy troops were spotted moving to their front, and soon after, bursts of machine-gun fire were spitting towar
ds them. The battle for the canal had begun once more and time was running out for the defenders. Fast.
Chapter 24
'This is no good, sir,' said Tanner to Lieutenant Peploe as bullets hammered into the mound of earth immediately in front of them. 'I need some height.'
They were in the trench beside the farmhouse and although the barn to the rear was now completely destroyed, Tanner reckoned the main house still offered some decent firing positions. 'Sir,' he continued, 'if it's all right with you, I think it's time to risk going back into the farmhouse. I'll do some sniping from the first-floor windows.'
'What about getting some Brens up there too?' said Peploe.
'Good idea, sir. We've still got some ammo left.'
'Right - use Sykes's section. Get a couple of men up there with the boxes of ammunition and two more on the Brens. I'll stay here with Cooper and Ross's sections.'
As the enemy infantry advanced closer to the canal, the artillery lifted their fire deeper into the perimeter, so that now it was just small-arms and mortars that were directed at the defenders. Even so, as Tanner ran along the trench to the back of the farmhouse, he could hear bullets snapping into the brickwork. Bursting through the back door, he ran to the staircase as another bullet pinged through a broken ground-floor window and ricocheted off the hall wall next to him. Upstairs, the roof and most of the first-floor ceiling had collapsed, but the walls were thick and looked firm. Entering a now open- roofed bedroom, he ran to the window, cleared the worst of the broken glass out of his way with his boot, crouched and drew his rifle to his shoulder, resting the barrel on the window ledge.
Platoons of men were advancing across the ground in front of him, using as cover the young corn in the fields, the lines of poplars and willows and the raised banks at either side of the approach roads. He saw a machine-gun team hurry forward alongside the road on the left that led towards the canal, then drop to the ground beside a poplar and set themselves up to cover their comrades' advance. Immediately, he drew a bead, aiming at the head of the man now feeding a belt into the breech. Even without his scope he could see the figures distinctly, although their features were not clear. The light was still bright, he was looking slightly down at the two men, and the ground between them was level - all factors that could lead to underestimating distance. Taking that into account, he guessed they were around three hundred and twenty yards away. Quickly adjusting the range drum on the scope to three hundred yards, he peered through the lens, fractionally raised the point of aim, let his finger squeeze until it reached the first point of pressure on the trigger. Holding his breath, he gripped the rifle tightly and pressed hard against the second pressure point. A crack, a jolt, and the first man rolled over. Pulling back the bolt, he aimed at the second. The enemy soldier was now twisting his head round in panic - a sniper or a lucky shot? - so Tanner aimed at his body, rather than his head. Aim, breathe out, steady, squeeze the trigger. As the Enfield cracked out shrilly in the narrow room, the second man slumped forward, as dead as his comrade.
He drew back the bolt again, aimed and fired, and again and again, using his scope to spot officers and NCOs. Although he was not entirely certain what the German uniforms and insignia denoted, officers were easy enough to spot, with their leather holsters and baggy twill breeches - he wondered why armies insisted on making their officers so damned obvious. German NCOs wore chevrons on the upper sleeves similar to their own, although on a triangular black patch. He reckoned he'd felled at least seven men with his first magazine, including an officer, one NCO and the machine-gun team.
As he had been firing, the others had joined him, McAllister and Sykes setting down Brens at the windows along the front of the house. Kershaw and Bell were bringing in boxes of ammunition and unloading Bren magazines. Already, the open rooms were heavy with cordite, which irritated the back of their throats.
'Thank God the roof's blown off, Sarge,' said Kershaw. 'Gives us a bit of fresh air.'
'Call that fresh?' said Tanner, pressing two more five- round clips into his magazine. The two Brens were chattering now.
'Watch it, Stan,' warned Tanner. 'Short, sharp bursts, all right? We need to keep those weapons working - can't afford to overheat them.'
'We could do with another bucket of water, Sarge,' said Sykes.
'Do you want me to find one?' asked Bell.
'Yes - but keep your bloody head down back there.'
Now the enemy had located them, so machine-gun and rifle bullets were whacking into the walls. Tanner peered around the edge of his window, then jerked back as a bullet hissed past his shoulder and struck the wall behind him. Then, inching around the window-frame again, he saw more men crouch-running down the track on their left that led to the canal.
'Stan, get a burst over here,' he shouted. 'Those bastards nearing the road, ten o'clock.' He fired, then noticed another stream of Germans scurrying towards the cottage on the far side of the canal, no more than a hundred and thirty yards away. He adjusted his scope. All along the canal to the ruined bridge the Rangers were firing, Brens and rifles cracking out, bullets from both sides whining across the narrow stretch of water. Most, he guessed, were passing high - he could even see a line of German tracer arcing well over the trenches. He had been right to try to gain height; the only danger now, he reckoned, came from a stray bullet or mortars, which had yet to be directed towards them.
He fired again towards the men approaching the cottage, then saw several make a gap in the hedge into the garden, then more hurrying through. 'Go on,' he muttered, then called, 'Stan, they're in the cottage garden.'
Sykes stopped firing and pulled the magazine from the top of the weapon. He crawled across the floor to Tanner. 'I've got to see this.'
A moment later a huge explosion ripped apart the sky and the cottage disappeared behind a livid ball of flame. For a brief moment, the firing along their section of the line stopped as soldiers on both sides, caught off-guard by the detonation, paused to take cover from the debris. Quickly, Tanner brought his rifle to his shoulder and picked off another handful of startled enemy soldiers.
'I reckon that was one of my better ones.' Sykes grinned. 'Nice little bang, that.'
The Germans' assault faltered, as men took cover in the fields and behind buildings further back from the road, towards L'Avenir. It gave the defenders a brief chance of a breather. The Brens cooled, more magazines were loaded, and Tanner sent Ellis and Kershaw downstairs to find some food and drink. They returned a short while later with several tins of bully beef, condensed milk, a tin of jam and some biscuits. Tanner opened one of the cans of milk, drank some, then crushed a handful of biscuits into the remainder and added a large dollop of jam. Stirring it all together, he began to spoon it hungrily into his mouth. 'I needed this,' he said.
Peploe appeared, clutching several bottles of wine. 'You should all have a swig,' he said, then went over to Tanner. 'You all right?'
'Yes, thank you, sir,' said fanner. He sat down against the wall, his helmet on his knee.
'I've some good news. Captain Moresby's been up to see us from Battalion. We're withdrawing tonight.'
Tanner sat up. 'Tonight? When?'
'At ten o'clock.'
'Twenty-two hundred,' repeated Tanner. 'A little under three hours.'
'Yes, and then straight to Dunkirk. Apparently in the east we've already pulled back to the border.'
'Bloody hell - I'd not thought about the rest of the line.'
'It's hard to when there's so much going on in front of us,' said Peploe. Three mortar shells in quick succession burst on the far side of the farm. No one flinched.
'Jerry'll have at least another attack in him, don't you think?' said Tanner, after a gulp of wine. 'How is it down on the canal?'
'We're holding up. Ross has lost three men, though. Direct hit from a mortar. Dempster's been hit in the shoulder.'
'And Verity?'
Peploe shook his head. 'Poor fellow. We've moved him to the back of the house - he's pro
perly bomb-happy.'
'It can happen to anyone, I suppose,' said Fanner. 'So, we're down to the last twenty men.'
'And ammunition's a bit low.' He turned to Sykes. 'That was good work in the cottage, Corporal.'
'Thank you, sir. And we've got a few jelly bombs prepared in the vehicles too.'
'Jelly bombs?'
'Gelignite, sir,' said Sykes. 'The sergeant here takes a pot-shot with a tracer round and boom - up they go.'
Peploe smiled.
Tanner looked at his watch. 'Nineteen twenty,' he said. 'Well, every minute that passes . . .'
'It's going to be tight, though, isn't it?' said Peploe.
'Yes, sir. It is.'
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