‘And what about B Company? Can you contact them too?’
Creer paced again while the wireless operator attempted to make contact. He saw Sowerby glance at his watch.
‘Reply from D Company, sir,’ said the wireless operator. ‘They’re pinned down by wire and mines and coming under mortar attack.’
‘Tell them to work their way towards the centre of the position,’ said Creer, ‘and to await further orders.’
Tanner and his men had crept around the edge of the spur and had now paused in a clearing in the groves overlooking the long, straight stretch of the railway line and towards the Green Howards’ sector. MG tracer was still pouring into the open ground and mortars bursting. Another flare fizzed into the air, showering the cornfields with a bright white magnesium light. Tanner looked back up the slopes, towards Misterbianco and Etna, still towering over them. All he could see was the dark outline of more citrus groves. It was clear to him that the Germans lacked defence in depth. A bit of wire, a handful of mines, some mortars and MG teams were holding up the best part of three battalions. Behind those outer forward defences, there was very little. He imagined that mortar teams and infantry were gathering themselves together somewhere not too far above them, but they were quiet for the moment.
Where the bloody hell were those reinforcements? Now was the time to strike, while the enemy in this part of their line was disorganized and broken. Tanner had hoped men from the other companies would be pouring in through the gap by now and that they would be able to mount a significant attack. Now was clearly the moment to exploit their earlier success – leave it much longer and, chances were, the Germans would regroup and counterattack; their forward positions might be held lightly, but they were not going to leave a gaping hole in the line for long. The problem was, right now he didn’t have enough men or ammunition to achieve very much. He needed those reinforcements. On the other hand, it was clear the Green Howards needed help; so did the Yorks and Lancs, and their own D Company, for that matter, but he thought of Captain Verity and the expression on his face: apprehension, nerves. Fear. It was a big thing, going into battle for the first time, especially when it was at night and your enemy were Germans who knew a thing or two about soldiering.
‘Chalkie,’ he said. ‘Find out what the bloody hell’s going on and where our reinforcements are, will you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said White.
Tanner listened as White called up Battalion. No response. A pause, and then he tried again. Contact.
‘Hello, Sunray, where are reinforcements? Say again, where are reinforcements?’
‘Ask whether they’ve sent A Company forward,’ said Tanner.
‘Has Able been sent forward to 841730?’
Tanner listened, his heart sinking.
‘Wilco, Sunray, wait out.’ White called off. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said White eventually. ‘It seems D Company is still pinned down, B Company have become dispersed, and A Company hasn’t moved.’
‘Bloody hell!’ said Tanner. ‘That man will—’ He stopped, took a deep breath, then said, ‘Chalkie, call them up again, then give the headset to me.’
White did so. Tanner took off his helmet, put the headphones over his ears and the transmitter to his mouth and said, ‘This is Tanner. Is the OC there? … I don’t give a damn about R/T signal procedure, just put him on.’ He sighed, waited, then heard Creer. ‘Sir, I urgently need reinforcements. We’ve broken through and if we can exploit this position we can roll up the entire part of this front. But I need reinforcements now. Send me A Company.’
Tanner listened, then ripped off the headset, cursed, and passed it back to White. Get off the net. That’s an order, had been Creer’s response. A Company would be moving nowhere. The bastard. The bloody stupid bastard. He sighed again, then said, ‘All right. Everyone check their weapons. Keep a sharp look-out. We’ll wait for Spiers, then move.’ He turned to White. ‘Chalkie, try and get hold of B and D Companies, will you? You can find their frequencies, can’t you?’
‘Should be able to, sir.’
‘Good. Just keep trying.’
Spiers reappeared soon after with a further thirty men from C Company, including Captain Dawnay, the company 2 i/c.
‘D Company are way over to the left,’ said Spiers. ‘They must have got disoriented and strayed into the Yorks and Lancs sector.’
‘C Company?’
Spiers shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. Major Ferguson’s wounded. Not badly, but he’s been sent back.’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Dawnay. ‘It was the mines. We lost several men and got pinned down.’
‘Listen, Dawnay,’ said Tanner, ‘did you ever receive a message from Battalion to move through the gap we’d made?’
Dawnay looked at his wireless operator, crouched beside him. ‘Did you, Wilkins?’
‘No, sir. We were asked to give a sitrep. That was all.’
Tanner thumped the ground with his fist. ‘For Christ’s sake,’ he said.
‘Come on, sir,’ said Spiers. ‘Let’s do what we can, eh?’
‘I’ve spent the sodding war being held back by bloody incompetence,’ he muttered. ‘But, yes, you’re right, Tom, let’s get on with it. We’ve got one section still overlooking the railway. We’ll send back two more. Goodridge, you can take those men. The rest of us will move in two groups. Dawnay, you take thirty men and climb a little higher, covering our flank. Wilkins and Chalkie, can you link your nets? Let’s try and keep in contact.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said White.
‘Tom,’ he said to Spiers, ‘you and the rest come with me. And everyone keep up, all right? Jaldi, jaldi.’
They hurried on through the groves until suddenly the citrus plantation gave way to a hundred-yard-wide strip of pasture. From here they could look down on the battle raging in the Green Howards’ sector. Two more flares burst in quick succession, revealing the network of dikes, tracks and the railway line a little way back. Between the Massa Carnazza dike Tanner had seen on the aerial photographs earlier and the railway, he could see several of the enemy, ant-like figures, lugging boxes of ammunition up to a series of four machine-gun nests. Behind the railway were the mortar teams, the nearest only two hundred yards away.
He turned to Spiers and grinned. ‘Pretty good view from here, wouldn’t you say? Let’s set up the three Brens and this Spandau and cause a bit of havoc.’
‘Yes,’ smiled Spiers, ‘let’s.’
‘I’ll let rip with the Spandau first,’ said Tanner, ‘because they’ll know it’s one of theirs. When that’s out of ammo, we’ll open up with the Brens.’
Tanner set down the Spandau and gave it a quick look over. It was hard to see much, but it appeared to be in working order.
‘Got that ammo tin, then, Kernow?’ he asked.
‘Here you go, boss,’ said Trahair, laying it beside him. Tanner opened the bi-pod, steadied the gun, then opened the feed cover. He had used both the German MG34 and the newer MG42 and had always been impressed by the engineering. They were well produced, of that there was no question. Opening the ammunition tin, he pulled out the top of the belt, found the starter tab, then placed it across the feed block and closed the cover. The ammunition belt was now firmly in place.
Lying down, he drew the stock into his shoulder, held onto the grip and pulled back the bolt until it clicked into position. He could see tracer pouring from an MG and the dark shape of two men lying on the embankment of the Massa Carnazza, as well as men carrying another ammunition box.
Tanner aimed and squeezed the trigger. Bullets spat out quicker than he had remembered, the weapon vibrating violently in his hands, and tracer stabbing through the night air. His aim was badly high, but had been enough to make the men with the ammunition box run. He fired again, this time aiming lower and saw the two men tumble and fall. Pausing again, he struggled to spot the MG closest to them on the embankment but, squinting into the shadows, saw a couple of dark shapes and opened fire again. Had he hit them? It
was hard to tell.
‘Kernow,’ he said, ‘go and tell the RSM he can open fire now.’
As Trahair scrambled across to Spiers, Tanner looked for the mortar teams, saw several faintly lit by the light of the flares and squeezed the trigger again. Tracer pumped through the air, the weapon juddered, and several men dived onto the ground, although whether that was because they had been hit or not, he wasn’t sure. He paused a moment to allow the barrel to cool, then fired again, this time lower, raking the area behind the railway until, just a few seconds later, the ammunition belt was empty.
‘Blimey, sir,’ said Trahair, hurrying back beside him, ‘that didn’t take long.’
‘The quicker an MG fires, Kernow, the sooner it runs out of ammo.’
The Brens had now opened up, while others were firing rifle shots. Tanner picked up his own rifle, the Aldis scope still fixed. The flares had died down now, darkness descending once more, so that it was hard to spot targets. Tanner held the rifle tight into his shoulder, watching through the scope, waiting for one of the MGs to open up. There! Pulses of tracer stabbed the sky. Tanner aimed towards the start of the tracer, then a fraction to the left and a little higher, and fired. The MG was silent.
Suddenly there was firing from a little further up the slope, then the familiar thud and hiss of mortars. He heard the faint whistle through the air, then three exploded in quick succession some fifty yards further up the slope. The Brens were still chattering, but now German machine-gun fire was hissing through the groves, twigs snapping, and little beds of tracer hurtled over their heads.
‘Bollocks!’ said Tanner. Turning to White, he said, ‘Tell Dawnay to pull back.’ Jesus. We shouldn’t have to pull back – not now. Not after getting this far. He scurried, crouching, towards Spiers as more mortars exploded, this time closer. Showers of earth and grit, splinters of wood were thrown into the air, as Tanner was tugging at the men and ordering them to disappear back into the groves. Men were scampering, bodies bent low, melting away between the trees. Tanner waited for the last man, then dived flat as another mortar shell landed not thirty yards away. Lifting his head, then getting to his feet, he glanced back at the scene below. The enemy had quietened down, that was something, but whether it would last was another matter. Bloody Creer. Bloody sodding Croaker Creer. A renewed wave of anger coursed through him. This could and should have been a decisive victory, but instead they were running back in full retreat, short on ammunition and men. More bullets overhead and fizzing through the branches. A rifle shot rang out, then a burst from a Bren, but the enemy was not letting up. From somewhere up in the groves above, bullets and mortars were chasing their retreat.
They had broken through the German lines, but now they would have to get back through them again. And that meant getting over the now exposed railway line.
19
Tanner halted his men two hundred yards short of where they had broken through. Wild, inaccurate machine-gun fire scythed overhead, while harassing mortar shells continued to fall. Most landed harmlessly, but then one dropped among a group of men, killing three outright, their torn bodies flung into the air. Several more were wounded; one lost most of his right leg. ‘Help me! Help me! Oh, God, no!’ he screamed.
Tanner hurried over.
‘Christ, Christ, Christ, oh, God, no!’ cried another man, standing there, looking at the carnage and clutching his head in his hands.
‘For God’s sake,’ said Tanner, ‘do you want to be any louder telling them where we are? Get a bloody grip of yourself.’
‘But – Jesus!’
‘Someone get him away from here,’ barked Tanner. He crouched beside the wounded man, and began ripping open packets of field dressings.
‘Help me, oh, my God, help me!’ cried the man.
‘We’re going to help you, Dan,’ said another man, kneeling beside him. ‘We’re going to get you out of here.’
‘That’s exactly what we’re going to do,’ said Tanner. ‘What’s your name, son?’
‘It’s Tredwell, sir,’ said his friend.
Tredwell glanced at his leg. ‘Oh, Christ, look at me! Look at my bloody leg!’ It glistened vilely, a mashed stump of a thigh from which the rest of the leg hung by little more than a few sinews.
‘All right, Tredwell,’ said Tanner. ‘We’ll have you out of here in no time.’ He quickly tied a field dressing tightly round Tredwell’s leg as a tourniquet.
‘What do we do?’ said one of the others. ‘His bloody leg’s just hanging there.’
‘Get a bloody hold of yourselves, that’s what,’ snapped Tanner, reaching into his haversack. He pulled out a syringe of morphine, and emptied it into Tredwell’s arm. ‘There you go, Dan,’ he said. ‘We’ll get you back, don’t you worry.’
Tredwell’s eyelids flickered, then closed.
‘Right,’ said Tanner. ‘He’s not a big bloke. One of you is going to have to pick him up and carry him over your shoulder.’
Three more mortar shells whistled over but exploded wide. Then, moments later, a number of men were rushing towards them, bursting through the trees. Tanner felt his heart lurch, and swung his Beretta around. He was about to fire, then heard Dawnay call, ‘Don’t shoot!’
‘Dawnay – thank God,’ said Tanner.
‘I’m down seven men,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Christ, I had to leave two of the wounded.’
‘Where’s Jerry now?’ asked Tanner.
‘Close. We need to get going. We could hear them.’
‘And we’re all running low on ammo. All right, but we need to get Goodridge back.’ He turned to Spiers. ‘Listen, Tom, I want you and Dawnay to take the men over the railway just below us here. Get over, hug the embankment, then go back into the corn through the gap in the wire.’
‘All right,’ said Spiers, ‘but what about you?’
‘I’ll get Goodridge. Now go!’
Tanner left them and hurried through the groves, crouching low as he went. Nearing the tip of the spur, he slowed, looking for Goodridge and his men. ‘Goodridge!’ he whispered loudly. ‘Goodridge!’
‘Sir?’ came the reply, and a dark figure stepped into the track through the groves.
‘Goodridge?’ said Tanner again.
‘Yes, sir. I’m here, sir. It’s good to see you. We heard lots of firing. To be honest, we were wondering whether we should fall back.’
‘You should,’ said Tanner. ‘Are you all here still?’
‘Yes, sir. We haven’t fired a shot but—’ He stopped. Above them, perhaps fifty yards further up the slopes, between the sounds of battle, they could hear voices and the chink of men moving through the groves.
‘Right, go now,’ said Tanner, in a low whisper. ‘Hug the embankment, but cross a hundred yards back from where I’ve just come, then hug the other side and cross into the open through the gap in the wire. OK? Now go!’
He urged them all away and then, keeping low, moved between the trees. It was dark, with no flares now lighting their part of the battlefield. But there was the light of the moon and the stars and that was enough to see by. Pausing, he listened. Small arms and mortars still punctured the night air away to his left and right, but in the moments of quiet, he could hear low voices. Were they getting closer? It was hard to tell.
He reached into his gas-mask case and pulled out the first of four packets of plastic explosive. The half-pound packets of TNT had come from Sykes, as had the detonators and time pencils he now took from his shirt breast pocket. Carefully, he stuck the detonators into each of the packets of TNT, then pressed in the time pencils.
Where was Jerry now? He paused again and listened, then carefully, using the shadows of the trees, inched up the slope, until he could see them. A number of men, talking in low voices, carrying boxes of ammunition and what appeared to be a mortar barrel and stand. Tanner smiled to himself, snapped the time pencil on the first pack of explosive to thirty seconds, then counted to twenty, threw it towards them and ran, hurrying back through the trees. He’d
gone thirty yards when a loud explosion tore the night apart, a flash of angry orange flame lighting the sky behind him. Immediately, he snapped another time pencil and dropped it on the ground, then ran forward. Another thirty yards, and he snapped the third time pencil, this time at two minutes’ delay.
He could hear shouts and screams on the slopes above him as the second explosion erupted. Glancing back, he saw flames burst around the trees setting several on fire. Good. The flames would give him the cover he needed. Scampering over the railway, he took out the last of the TNT, set the timer for four minutes, lobbed it over to the other side and ran, through the gap in the wire, on into the cornfield and back south, across the open ground. Not a single bullet followed him.
Standing outside the battalion command post, Creer heard the explosions and, glancing back towards the enemy lines, saw the glow of flame flicker once, then twice in the distance. Beside him, Captain Dawnay and RSM Spiers flinched and turned.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Dawnay.
‘Those weren’t mortars,’ said Spiers.
Another flash of light, followed moments later by the rumble of a further explosion.
‘We left Tanner there to find Goodridge,’ said Dawnay. ‘Christ, I hope they’re all right.’
‘Yes,’ said Creer, stroking his chin, ‘although those are quite big explosions.’
‘For God’s sake,’ muttered Spiers. ‘We needed reinforcements, sir. Where was A Company?’
‘Watch your tone, Spiers,’ said Creer. ‘Any decision made was done with the information I had available. The attack was stalling. D Company were floundering, so too was B Company, and it seemed foolhardy in the extreme to send good after bad.’
‘But you were here, sir, a thousand yards back. We were on those slopes, behind the enemy forward positions. We could see everything.’
‘I’m not prepared to argue with you, Spiers,’ Creer snapped. ‘I made the right decision. It’s been a difficult night, I understand that, and we’ve lost a lot of men, but I don’t want to have my decisions challenged by my RSM, is that clear?’
The Devil's Pact (2013) Page 26
