"Fall back! Retreat!"
We could not stand against such a barrage at such close range and we grabbed our belongings and we ran. Once again we were the last but we would gun without fear of being caught. There was no one behind us to delay. The German troops would have to throw a bridge over the river if they were going to catch us. They had driven us out and it would just be a matter of time. We stopped running when we out ran the shells that their artillery continued to lob at us. We gathered around Sergeant Jennings and caught our breath. Corporal Higgins said, "Well we held them up for a day."
"Aye we did but we ran away again and that is a bad habit to get into. Best do a roll call."
Pete Smith did not answer the roll call. He had fallen or been hit after we had left the river. Old Jack Jones was the last of the original squad. We were being slowly pared down. We marched west. The Meuse was ahead and that wasn't far from the coast. We were running out of land. The Germans were doing a good job of driving us into the net. We began to run into German patrols and advance units from the north and the south. We heard the fire from the flanks. We had delayed them at the river but the other forces, French, Belgian and British had not. We were in danger of being caught.
Nev Wilkinson had recovered quickly from his wound. He was tough and hardened by his time in Spain. He now marched with a pronounced limp. He had a sixth sense and he suddenly hissed, as we marched down a leafy hedgerow. "I smell German tobacco!"
There were just our squad and we were the last men. We dropped to the ground and peered into the fields to our left. We had no sooner done that than a fusillade ripped through the bushes. I saw, through the thinner lower branches grey legs. I fired five shots rapidly at the legs. I saw blood gushing and Germans fell to the ground. I fired into their bodies. Willy took a grenade and hurled it, from a prone position over the hedgerow. I heard a German shout, "Grenade" and a few seconds late it exploded. They fired again and this time it was lower. I took out a grenade, took out the pin and released the handle. I counted to three and threw it. I covered my face for I knew it would explode in the air. Shrapnel whizzed back on our side of the hedge as my grenade exploded. I heard screams. I jumped to my feet, my ears were still ringing and ran back up the lane until I found a gap in the hedge. I ran into the field and saw the carnage I had caused. Three men were still standing and I knelt and began to fire at them. The first fell without realising that they had been flanked. The second two turned. I fired my second shot and the German was thrown backwards. The last German was taking a bead on me. I forced myself to aim and I squeezed my trigger. I saw his muzzle flash as he fired a millisecond before me and I waited for the bullet which would end my life prematurely. It zipped across my battle dress and tore a hole in the epaulette. My bullet smacked into him between the eyes.
I stood and walked over to them. One or two were not dead but from the blood pumping from their bodies it would not take long. Sergeant Jennings and Willy appeared behind me. "That was a risky thing to do with a grenade, son. It could have killed us all."
"It worked though, Sarge."
Willy reached down and took the Luger and holster from the dead officer. Sergeant Jennings said, "See if they have grenades and food. Nev, get down the road and tell the Lieutenant what has happened. Be sharpish." He limped off down the road.
We gathered what they had and used a German rucksack to carry them. When we reached the other side we saw the others gathered around a body. Jack Jones had been hit in the initial attack. He had been too slow to heed Nev's warning. Corporal Higgins took his dog tags and papers. "Hogan, Carr, you take the Bren."
Nodding, Sergeant Jennings said, "Let's get back to the war. Double time."
We all took one last look at old Jack Jones and then we ran down the lane. We had travelled no more than two miles before we heard firing from our right. We heard .303s in return. That had to be our lads, the rearguard. Sergeant Jennings halted and waved us into the field on our right. Two hundred yards ahead of us we saw a line of Germans; they were setting up mortars and a machine gun.
Corporal Higgins said, "What do we do Sarge? If we fire on them they will turn on us."
"We are the rear guard lad. We'll do our duty." He turned. There was cover from a ditch and overhanging bushes. "Set up the Bren here. Harsker, Holden, do you think you can make your way down the hedge on the left and get a bit closer. Try to pick off the officers."
"Right Sarge."
He smiled, "If owt happens to us then you make your way back to the others right? You are smart lads. You'll be all right."
We crawled to the ditch and began to make our way down. The first of the German heavy machines began to chatter and then I heard the crump as the first of the mortars fired. We reached to within forty yards of them before the Bren fired. They cut a line through the machine crew and two mortar crews. Pandemonium ensued as the Germans turned to face the new enemy. I placed my last hand grenades before me and then took a bead on the officer who was giving orders. I squeezed one bullet off. More would have been a waste as I was just fifty yards from him. Willy fired too but he fired a number of shots. I switched to a Feldwebel and hit him. Then I saw the Germans trying to crew the machine gun again. Three bullets took care of them. I saw grey uniforms rushing towards us and I took out the pin from a grenade, released the handle and then threw it. "Down Willy!"
I pushed my face into the ground. I felt shrapnel whizz over my head. When I looked over I saw that the charging Germans had fallen. The troops who had been attacking our rearguard began to run towards the sergeant and the Bren. I saw them switching the mortars around and I fired as fast as I could at their crews. They were too far away for a grenade. We were now the target of the Germans and it was only the ditch and the camouflaged helmets which saved us. I watched in horror as the first mortar exploded to the right of the Bren and took Mike and George out. Corporal Higgins and Sergeant Jennings crouched and emptied their magazines at the Germans.
"Let's buy them some time, Willy!" I took out the pins from two grenades and half stood to hurl them at the Germans. Willy managed to throw one before a furious fusillade rattled out. We both managed to dive to the ground but I felt the impact as a bullet hit my tin lid. As soon as I heard the explosions I stood with my last hand grenade in my hand and threw it as I had seen Sean McGuire. It arched high and, as I hit the ground, it exploded in the air.
Willy grabbed my arm, "That's it Tom. Time we were going too!"
He half dragged me through the gap at the bottom of the hedge. The thorns tore at my clothes but we made it. Bullets shredded the leaves above our head and, once we were through, we crawled. I heard boots on the road and turned to see Corporal Higgins helping a wounded Sergeant Jennings.
"Help them Willy and give me your last two grenades."
The three of them hobbled down the road. I pulled the pin and hurled one high above the hedge and then I ran after my comrades. I slung my rifle and took out my Luger. I could fire that one handed and it had nine bullets. More bullets came my way and I heard the Germans ordering the mortars to switch targets. I had an idea and I shouted, "Don't shoot this way the English have fled!"
I know my accent was poor but I just needed them to doubt that we were English. I ran as fast as I could. Ahead of me I saw another entrance to the field and grey uniforms emerged. I fired four shots from the Luger and they dived for cover. I pulled the pin from my last grenade and as I approached the gateway I released the handle. I rolled it into the gap. I fired one blind shot and then ran just as fast as I could.
There were two shots in reply before the grenade went off. I reached my three comrades as we passed the dead men of our battalion who had been killed by the German ambush. There were six of them. We could do nothing for them and we kept on running. Night was falling and we still had to reach the rest of our company. There were just four of us left now and we had had ten just a few days ago. I suddenly felt lonely. Every few yards I stopped and turned but my last grenades must have slowed their a
ttack. I was not certain that I had killed that many Germans but my grenades had caused wounds. They would be cautious. We had to stop once to apply a field dressing to Sergeant Jennings' leg. The bullet had broken his tibia from the look of it.
It was almost two o'clock in the morning when we found Lieutenant Ashcroft and the rest of the rear guard. I saw Nev Wilkinson. He was leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette. He looked all in.
"Thank God you made it. Where are the others?"
Sergeant Jennings had passed out and Corporal Higgins said. "This is it, sir."
Sergeant Greely said, "Was it you lot who hit the German ambush?" Corporal Higgins nodded, "Then you saved us again." He turned to his men. "Take the sergeant to the doctor."
The Lieutenant nodded to Corporal Higgins. "You had better take charge of the squad until the Sergeant is recovered."
He nodded, "Any idea where we are headed, sir?"
"The Colonel has been told to head for Arras. The wounded are being taken to Boulogne, Calais and Dunkirk." He shook his head, "I have a feeling that this disaster is almost over. All we have managed to do is to slow down their advance."
"Don't worry sir, we have hurt them more than they expected. What we need is a couple of Matildas and that would stop their Panzers."
"You might as well wish for a squadron of Spitfires to take out their Stukas, Sergeant Greely."
I smiled, "Well on the bright side, sir, we haven't seen them all day have we?"
They all began to laugh, "Well if that isn't optimism I don't know what is. Get some rest. There's little enough food but others can do the watching tonight."
Chapter 8
Sergeant Greely was now in command of our company. We had lost Lieutenant Green from the HQ squad when he had been wounded and our Lieutenant had taken his place. The village we had reached was tiny. We were off the road and behind a row of small houses. The inhabitants had fled but the interiors were being used by the Colonel and his headquarters staff. We could hear, from our new bivouac, the crackle of the radio, our only link with the rest of the British Expeditionary Force.
"Jeffers, go and fetch a jug of tea." The Sergeant lit a cigarette and gave an apologetic shrug. It is little enough lads, but it's better than nowt."
"Things look bad Sarge."
"They do, Holden. Don't worry, that's when Tommy Atkins is at his best. Look at you lads. Most of the officers had given you up for dead except the Lieutenant of course. He knows you. You came through. Look at Wilkinson here. I thought he would have been carted back to Blighty with his wound but he dug in and even told us about your ambush." He nodded towards Nev. "That gave us a little warning about our own attack so don't you lads let this get you down. We are doing fine."
The mugs of hot sweet tea arrived. Jimmy Jeffers said, "Make the most of this lads, we have run out of sugar and there's only a few cans of milk left."
As I drank the tea I realised what we took for granted. I had been ill prepared for this campaign. I had thought that I had brought enough of everything but I hadn't. The tea was welcome. I was so hungry now that I was beyond eating. Whatever food had been left was now gone. The rest of the battalion, thinking us dead had not left any for us. I curled up in my greatcoat and fell asleep behind the tiny Belgian village whose name I did not even know.
We were up before dawn. We used the village tap to wash and to rinse out our mouths. After filling our canteens we watched as the rest of the battalion marched off. No one had suggested replacing us as rearguard and we would have been offended if they had. It was a place of honour. We had endured it for six days now and another two or three would not hurt. At least we knew where we were going; Arras. As we began to trudge down the cobbled Belgian road I remembered the name. Dad and his squadron had been involved up there. I couldn't help glancing, involuntarily, up into the air. He would have seen a brown column snaking its way east. I prayed for the roundels of a Hurricane. Air cover would have been a luxury.
Willy lit the stub of an old cigarette as we marched. "Well Tom, there's not many of us left from the training platoon is there?"
"No Willy but at least some of them were evacuated out. They aren't all dead."
"I know but I thought we might last more than a couple of months. How can we fight these German tanks? Hand grenades and petrol bombs aren't enough."
"We have good tanks it's just they weren't here. Unless I miss my guess there are boffins in England making new weapons. My dad began flying in a pusher aeroplane called the Gunbus. It flew at just eighty miles an hour. The Germans flew rings around them but, by the end of the war, they had the Sopwith Camel which flew at over a hundred and thirty miles an hour and they ruled the skies. The Sarge is right, we British might be slow starters but we are dogged and we don't give up."
The refugees appeared to have fled this particular road but the corpses in the ditches and discarded belongings by the side were a sad testament to the enemy's tactics. Terror. That terror was brought home to us when we heard the noise of Stukas in the distance. "Stukas!"
There were officers' whistles and then shouts of, "Take cover!"
Willy and I were already in the ditch. There was an old tin bath lying at an angle and we sheltered behind that. Our eyes now automatically chose the best and most efficient cover. We both leaned our rifles on the bath and waited until the first Stuka closed with us. Perhaps we had hurt them in the previous days for they all released their bombs early. Their machine guns rattled first and then they pulled up their noses. The bombs struck the roads, creating new potholes but they did little damage to us. Two of the twelve were smoking as they headed east.
As we resumed our retreat I reflected that the terror of the Stuka was aimed at civilians. Resolute soldiers could fight them off. We had done so and there was a spring in our step. We saw, to the north and the south, flights of Heinkels as they continued to bomb the towns and supply lines.
"How come the Royal Air Force aren't up there doing something about them? Where are the Brylcreem boys?"
Dad hated that nickname and I felt honour bound to defend them. "Those who wanted peace and disarmament decided that we didn't need as many fighter air craft. We haven't got enough. You can train a man quickly but a fighter takes a long time to manufacture. The pilots will be as frustrated as us. It was the politicians and those who didn't see the danger in the Nazis." I saw him nod and consider my words. Willy was not well educated but he was not stupid and he began to process my words and to think on them.
I had no idea how far we marched each day but those cadets at the OTC would not have managed half of what we did. When we saw the rest of the battalion halt at the crossroads then we knew we had marched enough for that day.
Lieutenant Ashcroft greeted us. "Sergeant Greely, take the company down the road to the south. This is an important crossroads and we have been ordered to hold it for a few days to allow the rest of the army to get to Arras."
"Yes sir, is there any food? The lads have just had a can of corned dog each and there is nowt left now."
"Sorry Sergeant. If you send a couple of lads to the mess area they can get a jug of tea as of food…" he shrugged, "you will need to forage."
Wearily the sergeant saluted and said, "Right sir." He turned to us. "Harsker, you seem to have an eye for this sort of thing. Take Wilkinson and Holden and see what you can find."
"Right Sarge." We took off our greatcoats and slung our rifles over our shoulders. The two of them looked expectantly at me. The village would have been pillaged by the rest of the battalion. I spied a farm about a mile away across the fields. "Let's try over there."
We clambered over the hedge and walked across the field. The cereal in it was growing but there was nothing there for us. "Is this Belgium or France now, Tom?"
"Not sure, Willy. We are on the border so I am not certain." As we neared the farm I thought I saw a movement. "Best have our guns ready. I think I saw movement there." We swung our rifles from our shoulders and, spreading out, crouched as
we hurried towards the wall. I saw that the movement was an arm, an arm in a brown uniform and it was waving us forward. I began to run. When I was just twenty yards from the wall behind which I could see the arm I slowed. I approached more cautiously. This could be a trap. As I stepped close I could see that the arm belonged to a dead Tommy and it was moving because it was caught on a washing line and as the wind blew the washing it moved his arm back and forth.
Stepping over the stone wall I saw that there had been British soldiers here but, from the crater I could see, they had been attacked by Stukas. It was a squad of the 1st Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers. Nev knelt next to one of the dead soldiers, "I know this one. It's Bert Grimshaw. He lived in the next street to us."
"Best get their dog tags. You do that Nev. Willy let's see if there are any inside the building." We had our guns ready as we entered. The blast from the bomb had covered everything in shards of glass but there had been no fire. There was some food too. There were tins of beef, obviously from the Fusiliers but there was also a cheese and a ham. We stuffed them in our bags. We moved the table but found that the cellar was totally empty. We went out of the front door and found another crater and the dead sergeant and corporal from the Fusiliers. Both had machine gun bullets across their chests. I took their identity discs and papers. "Best take their ammo. I can't see us getting any more soon."
Just then I heard the clucking of a chicken. It was followed a few moments later by another. There was a barn. I waved Willy towards the barn. There were a dozen hens. They had escaped some time ago and they were high in the rafters. They were beyond our reach. "Here Tom, there's some eggs!"
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