Darkest Hour sjt-2

by James Holland

  Blackstone? He darted after him, stumbling over Slater's prostrate body. He gasped, recovered, and sped up the steps. In the brighter first chamber he saw Blackstone hurtle up the staircase to the ground floor. Tanner followed, kicking another man as he tried too quickly to dodge between the mass of soldiers. 'Sorry,' he called back, 'but I've got to catch that man!' Up the staircase, into the corridor, and there was Blackstone by the door. Tanner saw Sykes step into the doorway, but

  Blackstone was running hard at him and knocked him out of the way. Tanner ran on, then tripped again, sprawling on the pavement next to Sykes. 'Get up! Get up!' shouted Tanner and, scrambling to his feet, saw Blackstone race across the road and down onto the beach, running like a madman towards the sea.

  Tanner followed, unslinging his rifle as he tore after him. At the edge of the beach, he stopped and raised his weapon. Blackstone was sixty yards away now, nearing the water. Tanner aimed, then a group of soldiers walked in front of his view. He cursed, but realized what Blackstone was thinking. A short way out to sea a small whaler was turning away from a line of men on the beach and being rowed to a waiting tramp steamer further out. But as it broke away from the line of men, it moved initially almost parallel to the shore. Blackstone was now in the water, wading out towards the wooden vessel. Tanner followed, Sykes beside him, a clean, clear shot now out of the question. Men were shouting at Blackstone from the beach, but he waded on undeterred.

  'He'll get pushed back, Sarge,' said Sykes, now standing breathlessly beside Tanner, the sea lapping at their feet. 'There's a system here, of sorts. Queue-barging ain't allowed.'

  'Don't you believe it, Stan.'

  Blackstone was now at the whaler, a lone arm raised and gripping the gunwale. Tanner and Sykes saw the Royal Navy officer at the tiller shouting at him to let go, but then he seemed to change his mind because two Tommies began to heave Blackstone aboard - Oh, let him on, then.

  'Bloody hell,' said Sykes.

  'The bastard,' muttered Tanner.

  They watched as Blackstone sat up in the boat and looked towards them.

  'Cheers, boys!' he shouted. 'It's been good knowing you, Jack!'

  Tanner watched a moment, then turned away. 'Come on, Stan,' he said. 'Let's get back to Captain Hillary.' Slowly, they trudged off the beach, neither man speaking as they wove through exhausted waiting soldiers and past the debris of a broken army. But then, as they climbed off the beach and walked back along the seafront, they heard two aircraft roar overhead. Looking up, Tanner glimpsed two Junkers 88s as they flashed through the smoke and low cloud. Then bombs were whistling through the air, evidently aimed at the tramp steamer, for the first exploded in a mountain of spray just to her stern. The second and third fell near her port side, but the fourth fell further away, some forty yards from the vessel.

  'My God, Stan,' said Tanner, 'the whaler.'

  More bombs fell beyond the steamer, detonating harmlessly in the water, but as the spray subsided there was no longer any sign of the small boat, or of the twenty- odd men crammed into it. For a minute, Tanner and Sykes stared at the disturbed sea. Of the men and the whaler there was almost no sign, just a few bits of wood. Tanner took out his German binoculars. A few bodies bobbed on the surface but he knew that most of the men, if not blown to bits, would have sunk; their lack of life- jackets, heavy uniforms and webbing would have seen to that. Seagulls were circling like vultures, then swooping towards the water.

  'Damn,' muttered Tanner.

  'But he's dead, Sarge. I'm sorry for those other poor buggers, but to Blackstone, good bloody riddance.'

  Tanner grunted and continued to peer through his binoculars.

  'Sarge?' said Sykes.

  'I'd like to see a body.'

  'There's no way he could have survived that. Look - the bloody thing was obliterated.'

  It was true. Tanner could see no sign of life - except the seagulls. 'I suppose you're right, Stan,' he said, lowering the binoculars.

  'He's not going to trouble us anymore,' said Sykes. 'On that you can rest easy.'

  Tanner nodded.

  'And Slater?' said Sykes.

  Tanner told him. 'Useful thing, a Tommy helmet,' he said.

  'So that's it, then, Sarge? Blackstone and Slater?'

  'Yes, Stan.'

  Captain Hillary was waiting for them by the car. 'Find anyone?' he asked.

  'Not really, sir,' muttered Tanner.

  'Nor me. Still, no use crying over spilt milk. We tried, eh? Now we need to go back and get on with it. Make the best of what we've got.'

  Tanner pulled out a cigarette, exhaustion seeping over him. Just a few minutes' kip. Blackstone and Slater might be dead, but there was still an enemy to fight, and he knew that if he was ever to see England again he'd need all his wits about him for the battle to come.

  Chapter 23

  Wednesday passed into Thursday, 30 May, and still the enemy did not come, but all along the canal that marked the Dunkirk perimeter, the men made the most of the respite, strengthening defences and preparing for the battle. D Company had occupied an abandoned farm four hundred yards from the bridge. The main house, a solid old brick building with a typically Flemish high- gabled tile roof, overlooked the canal. It had not only a first floor with good views to the south but also an empty attic with a gabled window to the rear. Behind it was a large barn, also with a second storey, offering views both east and west along the canal, and some outbuildings. A track led out of the farm then dog-legged back to the road between the bridge and Krommenhouck.

  The men had been digging hard. As Tanner had guessed, the soil was rich and soft, and between them they had soon created a trench system that ran back from the farm and extended along the canal front as far as A and B Companies to either side of them. As the hours passed, it was widened, deepened and strengthened. The sluices all along this drained section of Flanders had been opened in an effort to slow the German advance, and by the morning of the thirtieth, the fields on either side of the road to Krommenhouck lay beneath shallow water. Even so, by using the excavated soil as a makeshift dyke, the Rangers managed to hold at bay most of the rising water along their front; although the trenches were soggy underfoot, they were by no means flooded.

  More importantly, the wait had allowed them to stockpile ammunition and supplies. From the abandoned vehicles along the road in front of their position, D Company had requisitioned another fifteen Bren guns, one Lewis gun, two Boys anti-tank rifles, eight wooden boxes of twelve No. 36 grenades, numerous spare rifles and some twenty-five thousand rounds of .303 ammunition. In addition, Sykes had scouted out some more explosives.

  'If I'm honest, Sarge,' he confessed to Tanner, 'I didn't look all that hard for those C Company lads in Dunkirk. I got a bit distracted, you see, by some sapper boys who showed me an abandoned truck of theirs a bit further down on the beach. Anyway, they had a wooden box of Nobels and all the gear, so I 'elped meself. I managed to stuff in five cartons of 808, plus detonators and safety fuse.' He grinned. 'You never know when it might come in handy.'

  However, it was not only weapons and ammunition they had found but food and other supplies too. The larder in the farmhouse was soon stacked high with tins of bully beef, condensed milk, fruit, vegetables, biscuits, beer, wine and cigarettes. The men would no longer be expected to fight on empty stomachs. Tanner found a new battle-blouse, and also a compass - something he had rarely used before because he had generally relied on the sun and the stars and his own sense of direction, yet he now vowed never to be without one again. Lieutenant Peploe and Kershaw, meanwhile, recovered a No. 9 wireless set from an abandoned carrier. Setting it up in Company Headquarters in one of the outbuildings at the back of the farmhouse, they soon managed to pick up the BBC and, for the first time since they'd arrived in France, were able to hear the news from home. They also discovered some of what was happening in France. The evacuation, it seemed, was going better than had been expected.

  That Thursday was a glorious day - warm, sunny,
with a deep blue sky and just a few summery white clouds. Late in the morning, stripped to his shirtsleeves, Tanner led a six-man patrol across the canal, partly to see if there was any sign of the approaching enemy but also to scrounge yet more supplies. At L'Avenir, a hamlet a mile or so to the south, they struck gold when they found two abandoned Royal Engineers eight-hundredweight Humber trucks. In the back of the first, sitting there waiting for the enemy to help themselves, were two wooden crates of Nobels as well as an intact fifty-cap blasting machine.

  'Blimey, Sarge!' exclaimed Sykes. 'Just look at all those lovely explosives!'

  'But we've already got more than enough, haven't we?' said Tanner.

  'Sarge, you can never have enough gelignite.'

  'Actually, Stan, you're right. I've just had an idea - with all this we can blow the approach roads, can't we? A few big craters'll annoy Jerry something rotten because he won't get too many vehicles over the fields, will he?' The water had not risen as high to the south as to the north of the canal, but the ground either side of the raised roads and tracks was wet and waterlogged. 'He'll have to send his infantry forward on foot,' Tanner added. 'That means no tanks and no artillery pieces until he's mended the roads. And that'll take time.'

  'True enough.'

  'So let's fetch some of the others and get to it.'

  Four roads fed into L'Avenir, two from the south and two from the north. Heading south first, they stopped two hundred yards beyond the hamlet and Sykes got to work. He laid a packet of five cartridges of gelignite on the road, placed a detonator at one end, then crimped a four-foot length of safety fuse and lit it. That done, he ran back to the others waiting some hundred yards away. Two minutes later, the gelignite blasted rock, tarmacadam and dust high into the air. They watched the debris clatter to the ground and waited for the dust to settle. A hole had opened across the width of the road. Sykes grinned. 'One down,' he said. 'Dr Nobel does the trick again.'

  'Nice job, Stan,' said Tanner. A lone shell screamed over and they ducked. It exploded harmlessly in the fields several hundred yards to their right. 'Someone's getting twitchy. Tinker,' he said to Bell, 'you'd better go back to Battalion HQ and tell them what we're doing. And iggery, all right?'

  They paused while Bell trotted off, scrounging some more tins of food and cigarettes from another abandoned truck, and waited some more while a newly arrived column of fifty or so troops trudged past on their way to the perimeter. An almost constant stream of men, both

  British and French, had poured through the day before. The previous evening, one column of French infantry had thrown all their weapons in the canal as they had crossed over into the perimeter. The Rangers had watched them, appalled, from their part of the line. 'Sergeant,' Peploe had said, 'I take back what I said earlier about the French. That was a bloody disgrace.'

  Since then, however, the stream had petered out so now there was just a trickle of stragglers.

  Tanner watched the men stagger down the road, their uniforms torn and filthy, their faces haggard and drawn. 'Which lot are you?' he asked.

  'DLI,' came the reply.

  'Which battalion?' Tanner asked them. 'Eighth.'

  'We were with you lot at Arras,' said Tanner.

  'Arras?' muttered one bloodied sergeant. 'That was a lifetime ago.'

  'Here, have some beadies,' said Tanner, handing him a packet of French cigarettes.

  'Cheers, pal,' said the sergeant, pausing to open the packet and light one.

  'How far back's Jerry?' Tanner asked him.

  'Not far. Must have crossed the Yser, I reckon, and that's eight or ten miles away. He'll be here by nightfall, that's for sure.'

  'Cheers,' said Tanner. 'Good luck.'

  'Good luck yerself.'

  'Right,' said Tanner, turning back to the others. 'We'd better get a move on.'

  By midday, they had blown the three approach roads and those leading into L'Avenir in at least two places and were crossing back over the bridge when they saw, parked just on the north side, a large staff car. A British general was standing beside it, talking with the colonel of the Coldstreams, their own OC and a captain. He wore a distinctive high-peaked cap, breeches and immaculately clean cavalry boots, while above his top lip was a neat moustache.

  Tanner recognized him at once - Brigadier Alexander, as he had been last time they had met. 'Better look sharp, boys,' he said, and as he neared the general he saluted as crisply as he could.

  The general acknowledged him, then said, 'Excuse me, Sergeant, we've met before, haven't we?'

  Tanner brought his men to a halt and stood to attention before him. 'Yes, sir, in Waziristan.'

  Alexander smiled. 'Of course - Tanner. And a sergeant now.' He stepped forward and tapped on the ribbon of Tanner's military medal. 'He's a brave man, this one,' he said, to the officers beside him. 'Should have got a DCM for what he did at Muzi Kor.'

  Tanner reddened. 'There were others a lot braver than me, sir.'

  'Well, it's jolly good to see you fit and well, Sergeant. Do you think we can hold the Hun for a bit?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Are you the chaps who've been blowing the approaches?' said Colonel Corner.

  'Yes, sir,' said Tanner.

  'Well done - that was smart thinking.'

  'Thank you, sir. Hopefully it'll take Jerry time to bring the bulk of his heavy fire-power to bear. I can't speak about his indirect fire but our boys are well dug in, we've got a good OP, and we can certainly deal with the infantry for a while.'

  'Good gracious, Sergeant Tanner,' laughed Alexander. 'I rather think I ought to have you on my staff, although I can see you're needed here. Anyway, well done, and good luck, all of you.' He saluted, and Tanner responded, then marched his men back towards their positions.

  'Blimey, Sarge,' said Sykes, once they were out of earshot. 'I've never seen a general before. He certainly looked the part, didn't he?'

  'He was a damned good brigadier, I'll say that for him.'

  'What did you do then, Sarge,' asked Ellis, 'to get your MM?'

  'Nothing much, Billy.'

  'I'd love to have a ribbon on my chest,' Ellis went on. 'Sets you apart, doesn't it?'

  'Trust me, Billy, you don't want to worry too much about gongs. Lots of people get ribbons they don't deserve and many more don't get the ones they should've got. It's a bloody lottery. Just concentrate on doing your job and keeping alive. Much more important than glory-hunting.'

  Bren teams had been placed all along D Company's front and there were two in the attic of the house. Tiles had been knocked out of the roof in several places and two tables, one from downstairs and one hastily knocked together in a shed at the back, brought up for the Brens to rest on. An old wooden bucket had been filled with water for cooling the Bren barrels. Meanwhile, the Lewis gun had been set up on the first floor of the barn behind the farmhouse. Stockpiles of ammunition were left beside the weapons or in freshly dug cavities beside the trenches. Along the canal, the abandoned vehicles were set on fire. Each charred chassis still offered decent cover for the enemy, Tanner thought, but less so than before. At around six o'clock that evening, once the last of the stragglers appeared to have passed through, the bridge was blown.

  A couple of hours later Tanner stood with Lieutenant Peploe in the attic of the farmhouse. Gunfire sounded to the east, dull and persistent. Behind, black smoke still rolled high above Dunkirk. Tanner had been watching a dogfight from the dormer window to the rear, high above the town where the sky was clear, blue and free of smoke; he had seen a German fighter plunge into the sea. It had been the first enemy plane he had seen come down in France. Perhaps the RAF boys were learning.

  Now he and Peploe were at the front of the farmhouse, peering through binoculars at a calm summer's evening. Long lines of poplars were bursting into leaf and the evening sun shone on the watery fields, casting dramatic reflections.

  'We're ready, aren't we?' said Peploe.

  'I think so, sir,' said Tanner.

  'I
just wish they'd get on with it. All this waiting - it's getting on my nerves, rather.'

  'I can live with it. I want those bastards to leave it as long as they can. With every hour that passes, we can get more men away. The more that get away, the better the chance we have of making it home.'

  'You're right, but you have to admit the waiting's the worst part.' He bent and pulled a bottle of French white wine from the Bren cooling bucket and offered it to Tanner. 'It's tres rustique, I'm afraid, but serves its purpose.'

  Tanner smiled. 'Thanks.' He took a glug, and then, as he passed it back, he saw something glint in the distance. Immediately he brought his binoculars to his eyes again. Ahead, several miles away, he spotted movement - vehicles - and wished now that he and Sykes had blown the roads even further back.