Darkest Hour sjt-2

by James Holland

  Sykes was wandering towards Tanner, drawing on a cigarette. 'Where's 'e taking them, Sarge?' he asked, nodding towards Blackstone.

  'God knows,' said Tanner, as several mortars exploded to the west, making him start. Thumps and machine-gun fire followed. A platoon of Durham Light Infantry hurried across the road by the church and disappeared behind it. More dull cracks and thuds resounded.

  'Come on, Stan,' said Tanner. 'Best help me with Otto here. Then I reckon we ought to find out what the hell's going on.'

  'We're under attack from the west, I'd say.'

  'And soon we'll be under attack from the south as well,' added Tanner. 'Those SS-wallahs aren't going to hang around in Berneville for ever.' He sighed. 'What a bloody mess.' He tucked the Luger into his belt, rifled through Timpke's holster and pockets for any spare rounds - he found three clips - then called to Captain Barclay, who was talking feverishly with Peploe under a large copper beech that was just bursting into full leaf. 'Sir, do you want to question him?'

  Barclay looked at him with a flush of irritation. 'Not at the minute, Tanner. Take him with the others. We can interrogate him later.'

  'Suit your bloody self,' muttered Tanner.

  Blackstone and Slater had taken the prisoners across the road to a large old-brick barn. By the time Tanner and Sykes caught up, the SS men had been corralled inside it. It was dry and dusty in there. A rick of straw was stacked at one end, but otherwise it was empty, save for a dilapidated cart, an ageing plough, a harrow and a few broken-spoked wheels.

  There were, Tanner reckoned, more than forty prisoners - all SS but some had been captured earlier. One of the lance-corporals from Company Headquarters was there, keeping guard with a Bren. Tanner and Sykes laid Timpke beside the straw then turned to go.

  'How's my favourite rapist, then?' said Blackstone, winking.

  Tanner ignored him.

  'The women of France should be quaking now his blood's up,' he continued, grinning. 'A bit of fighting today and he'll be terrorizing the ladies tonight.'

  Tanner grabbed him by the throat and rammed him hard against the wooden side of the barn. Behind him, he heard the prisoners shuffling apprehensively, as though weighing up whether the time to make a bid for freedom had come. At the same moment, he heard the cock of the Bren pulled back and clicked into place. The lance- corporal was pointing the Bren straight at him.

  'Shut your sodding mouth, Blackstone,' Tanner hissed.

  'Let go of the CSM,' said a low, gruff voice. Tanner turned and saw Slater beside him, a Webley in his hand.

  Fanner glared at him, then loosened his grip.

  'Jesus, Jack,' spluttered Blackstone, 'you never could take a joke.'

  'Not from you, you bastard.' He noticed the MP35 slung over Blackstone's shoulder. 'What gives you the right to carry that like some bloody trophy?'

  'I see you've got another,' he answered, straightening his battle-blouse.

  'Yes, unlike you, I got it the hard way.'

  'It's a perk of my position, Jack, you know that. And let me tell you something else. It's not clever to go around threatening warrant officers.' He eyed Tanner carefully. 'You were lucky this morning - very lucky. But that matter hasn't gone away, you know. Rape is rape, whoever you are. And now you're showing violent tendencies towards a superior. It won't look good - it won't look good at all. And I've witnesses.' He nodded to Slater and Sykes.

  'Don't think I'm one of your lackeys,' said Sykes. 'Come on, Sarge,' he said to Tanner, pushing past the two men. 'Let's leave them to guard this lot. We've got proper soldiering to do.'

  Slater grabbed Sykes's shoulder and swung him round. 'Watch your lip, son,' he said. 'You and the good sergeant 'ere might 'ave been leading charmed lives but it don't pay to push your luck.'

  'Let go of me,' said Sykes, wriggling free.

  'Leave it, Stan,' said Tanner, ushering Sykes away. He turned back to Blackstone and Slater. 'Trust me,' he said, 'it's you two who're pushing your luck. Eventually you'll slip up and I'll be waiting when you do.'

  As they walked back towards the square, they were hailed by Lieutenant Peploe. 'There you are,' he said, as they hurried over. The air was now heavy with gunfire and the sound of battle - not only from the south and west of the village but to the north as well. Dull crumps and faint machine-gun sallies were coming from a few miles away.

  'Bloody hell,' said Tanner, looking northwards, 'that's Duisans, isn't it?'

  'And east of there too.' Peploe rubbed his eyes and cheeks. 'Look, we've got to move into position, back up the road towards the water-tower. Then we'll dig in around the hedgerows along the edge of the village.'

  'All right, sir, let's go. Shall we leave the trucks?'

  'Yes, they'll be safer here, I hope.'

  Tanner called to the rest of the platoon, who had been waiting by the vehicles, and they hurried back up the road that led to Berneville. Past the last of the houses, up ahead, they saw an anti-tank crew bringing their gun into position against the bank at the side of the road, men unloading shells from the carrier beside them. Away to their left, from the direction of the wood, shots rang out, while behind and to the east, guns continued to boom intermittently.

  A short way forward from the anti-tank crew, a hedge extended either side of the road.

  'Is anyone dug in along here?' Peploe asked one of the DLI gunners.

  'No, sir. We've got forward posts in the wood but that's

  it.'

  'All right,' said Peploe. 'Cooper, take your section and position them to the left of the road, behind the hedge. Ross and Sykes, your boys take the right. We're missing a few men now so we'll have to spread out a bit - five or six yards apart. I want one Bren by the road here opposite the gun and the other two at the end of our defensive lines giving covering fire across the whole of our front. Sykes, your section can be at the end. Ross, I want you a dozen yards in from the road. We need to watch out for any enemy infiltrating from the west but our primary task is to defend the village from the south.' He cleared his throat, then turned to Tanner. 'Happy with those dispositions, Sergeant?'

  'Yes, sir.' The lieutenant's learning fast.

  'Good - all clear? Then let's go.'

  As the men shuffled along the hedgerows, the drone of aircraft thrummed away to the east. Tanner counted a dozen black crosses against the pale evening sky. In no time they were directly overhead, and then they were gone, this time to bomb some other target. To the north, fighting continued, but at Warlus, although desultory mortars continued to hit the village, it was suddenly quieter to the south and east. Tanner moved along the line, checking the men were in position correctly and that those manning the Brens had enough ammunition.

  They had lost four men during the attack on the battery, all killed, leaving Sykes's section only eight men strong and the other two with nine each. The shortfall had been made up by men from Company Headquarters, which left himself, Peploe and Smailes.

  'All right, Mac?' he said, as he reached McAllister, manning the Bren at the end of their small line.

  'No, Sarge. I'm bloody hungry.'

  'Me an' all,' agreed Bell.

  'And me,' said Tanner. He'd barely thought about food all day but now he remembered they hadn't eaten since morning. His stomach immediately began to grumble. 'Try not to think about it,' he said, to himself as much as to them.

  And he was tired. For the past few hours he had barely had time to think of anything but the task in hand. Now, as the battle appeared to have died down and they lay waiting patiently, his remaining energy was ebbing. He found Peploe by the road, took out one of Timpke's cigarettes and lit it, inhaling the smoke deeply. Dew was falling. The day's warmth was seeping away as rapidly as his energy.

  'Where's the rest of the platoon, sir?' he asked.

  'I'm not quite sure,' Peploe admitted. 'Somewhere to the east of the village. I'm afraid we're a bit of a scratch force here. Two companies of the Eighth DLI never left Duisans - there were some enemy forces to the north-west o
f there - so it's only A and D Companies here, plus a carrier platoon and a few mortars, and they've lost a fair few during the day. Lieutenant Bourne-Arton is missing and we're down a dozen men so far today - and that's not including the four from this platoon. The Durhams have had it worse - half their number are gone.'

  Tanner shook his head. 'Mostly to dive-bombers?'

  'You would have thought so, but no. Only about ten went in that. The worst casualties happened when they tried to push forward earlier, and since then there have been others - mortars, small arms and so on.'

  'Not good. How long are we expected to stay here, sir?'

  Peploe shrugged. 'Colonel Beart's missing too, and so is Captain Dixon. One of the advance-guard motorcycles went back to Duisans to try and get information but hasn't been seen since.'

  'It's ridiculous, sir, trying to fight mobile battles with no radio. These SS-wallahs we picked up today, you should've seen their kit. Sykes disabled a beauty in the scout car.'

  'I know. I'm beginning to think we're not really prepared for this war. That gun was something, wasn't it?'

  'Actually, sir, I found out what it was. An ack-ack gun, all right, but it seems they use them in an anti-tank role. It's something called a Flak 36, 88mm calibre. I think we should take a leaf out of their book and start using our ack-ack guns in that way.'

  'Beasts to move around but they certainly make our little twenty-pounders look a bit feeble.'

  'The twenty-pounder's all right, sir, just so long as you use it over short distances. If anything comes over that ridge tonight, I'd back those boys to see it off, but over longer distances - well, that 88 caused mayhem, and we were firing more than two miles.'

  'And the pair of them saw off our tank attack,' added Peploe.

  They were silent for a moment, and then Peploe said, 'I know we did what we were asked to do today, but that it was all for nothing sticks in my gut. Four good men lost. To think they were eating and breathing and living their lives this morning and now they're lying beside some copse on a French hill.' He sighed. 'I can't help feeling responsible for them - guilty, even. It wasn't something I ever considered when I was at OCTU.'

  'You might have lost more men if we'd stayed here, sir. And we learned a lot from that attack. Do you remember our conversation when we first got to Manston, about experience being the best training? Don't you feel a better soldier now than you did this morning?'

  'You're right.' Peploe smiled. 'But another thing they don't teach you at OCTU is how confusing battle is. Most of today I haven't had the faintest idea what's going on. I still don't.'

  Tanner grinned. 'I don't think anyone does. You just do what you can in your own part of the battlefield. Try to deal with whatever's flung your way.'

  It was quiet now on their front, although to their rear gunfire still thumped intermittently.

  'Did you see the CSM?' asked Peploe.

  'He's looking after the prisoners. He had Slater with him and another lad from Company Headquarters.'

  'Dangerous job.'

  Tanner smiled wryly. 'Like I said, he's a coward. All bullies are,' he said. 'He won't get in the firing line unless he absolutely has to.'

  'Did he say anything to you?'

  'Not really.'

  'Tanner, I'll make sure this rape charge is forgotten, you know.'

  'Thank you, sir,' said Tanner, 'but we've got to get out of this mess first. If Jerry doesn't attack in the next hour, I reckon he'll wait until morning. He doesn't like attacking at night. But the fact is, sir, I think we're more or less surrounded. If we don't pull out tonight, we'll be in the bag tomorrow.'

  'We've been ordered to hold the village, though. What else can we do?'

  Tanner sighed. 'That's what's worrying me, sir, because it's a lost cause.'

  Chapter 18

  When Sturmbannfuhrer Timpke came round he couldn't understand where he was or how he'd got there. He was lying on straw and it was dark - not completely but enough for him to realize he must have been out for several hours. His head was pounding with a sharp, throbbing pain.

  He saw that he was in a large old barn. Aged, dusty beams, hewn and fitted together centuries before, hung above him. He could smell dust and straw, but something else too - something sweet and cloying. For a moment he couldn't think where he had come across it before. Then, pushing himself up on his elbows, he gasped. Bodies - lots of them. Totenkopf men. His mind raced. Not ten yards from him Schultz lay on his back in a large dark pool of blood. And there were others he recognized too. No, he thought. They've shot my men.

  Suddenly he heard voices - English ones - and saw two men standing in shadows by the open door. Soundlessly, he lay down again and closed his eyes.

  'It's Tanner, all right,' said one of the men.

  'Sergeant Tanner,' said the other. 'And Corporal Sykes. They've murdered the lot of them. And look.' The man kicked something - a weapon. 'Tanner was carrying one of these earlier.'

  'Tanner,' said the first man. 'How could he do this?'

  Timpke heard them leave, but waited where he was for a few minutes. His brain reeled. He had overseen a number of executions in Poland but the victims had been partisans, resisters and Jews. That was one thing, but to kill fellow soldiers in cold blood - it was incredible, horrifying, beyond comprehension. And it had been Tanner, the piece of scum who had sat with him so coolly in his scout car. He had recognized then that Tanner was a hard man, but now he had done this. Him and that small, wiry man who had disabled the radio. Sykes. When he dared to get up, he staggered as he saw the dead. Some stared up at him, their eyes still open; others lay on top of their comrades. Flies buzzed around, gorging on the blood. Timpke clutched his head, staggered again, then turned towards the entrance. A sub-machine-gun lay on the dirt floor. He bent down and picked it up to examine the markings. Yes, there could be no doubt. Two circles and a square inside, with the letters W-SS, engraved on the breech. A Bergmann MP35 Mark I. Exactly like the one Tanner had taken from him.

  Leaving it where it was, he reached the door, looked around, saw no one, and ran across the yard to the farm's main entrance. Carefully peering around the gateway, he saw the end of his scout car parked across the road. To his surprise, no one was around. For a moment, he crouched in the shadows, thinking. It was almost dark; above him, the first stars were twinkling. He could hear occasional gunfire from the north, but he was certain the Tommies still held the village. He wondered why the rest of the battalion hadn't followed and attacked as he had ordered Beeck. But then, of course, they would have realized that he and the bulk of Company 3 had been taken prisoner. Units of Regiments 2 and 3 would have caught up; any orders Beeck tried to implement would have been overruled. They would have probed forward this evening, would send out patrols tonight and then, having made sure a sufficient weight of fire was in place, would attack the following morning. Yes. That's what's happened. If the Tommies remained where they were, they would have no chance.

  And then a plan took shape. All he had to do was disable the vehicles. If he did that, they would struggle to get away. And he wanted them to stay. He wanted them to stay so that he could exact his revenge on this Unteroffizier, Tanner.

  So long as Tanner and Sykes were not killed, they would almost certainly end up as prisoners of war. Then he would take personal charge of them. There would be no simple bullet to the head - no, Timpke was already planning something far more drawn out than that. He allowed himself a thin smile. The mere thought of it helped lift his spirits.

  It was around ten o'clock when Sykes heard movement. He lay stock still until he heard a chink about fifteen yards in front. He hissed at McAllister to hold his fire, then carefully pulled a grenade from his haversack, drew out the pin and lobbed it over the hedge. The night air was so still that he heard it land with a dull thud among the young shoots of corn and a few seconds later it exploded with a blinding crack of light. A man cried out and fell backwards. Then McAllister opened up with the Bren.

  A moment late
r a German machine-gun fired from just below the ridge. Bullets whizzed above them, splintering the tops of the hedge, then mortars were falling, but exploding some distance behind them.

  More small-arms fire came from the direction of the wood to the south-east, then mortars.

  'Give them another burst,' Sykes told McAllister, 'just in case.'

  Tanner joined them, crouching beside Sykes.

  'I think it's only patrols, Sarge,' said Sykes.

  'Maybe. Sounds to me like they're trying to clear that wood of our posts, though.' More mortar shells fell and a tree now caught fire. They could hear the spit and crackle of burning timber. A flickering orange glow shone from the southern end of the wood and shouts rang out, followed by yet more mortars and small arms. Then, from the village, they heard an engine and the sound of a vehicle driving away.