‘I have taken over,’ Fergus told him. ‘Where are you?’
‘We’re just outside Walschoutem, sir. I know our orders were to be further west by this time, but frankly, we haven’t been able to make the progress anticipated.’
Walschoutem was a village some fifteen miles north-east of Namur, and the same distance west of Bassenge. It was thus now some five miles north-east of the lancers.
‘Who have you got with you?’
‘Macalee’s hussars.’
‘Where are the Westerns?’
‘I’m afraid they’re still further back, sir. I left them to form the rearguard. I don’t suppose they’re more than five miles this side of Bassenge by now.’
‘Hallelujah!’ Fergus shouted. ‘Have they reported any enemy activity north or west of the river?’
‘Not as yet, sir.’
‘All right, Conant. Turn yourself round and make for Bassenge.’
‘For Bassenge, sir? But we only evacuated it yesterday morning.’
‘So now we’re going to reoccupy it. Move it, Conant. Try to contact Division and tell them that I am concentrating the Brigade on Bassenge, and will attempt to counter-attack the enemy by means of the bridge at Vise. Then get through to the Westerns and tell them to stay put, and to expect me for lunch.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Conant sounded a little dazed.
‘How the hell are you going to reach the dragoons for lunch?’ Harding asked him. ‘On these roads?’
Fergus pointed at the farmhouse about half a mile away; a quick inspection through his binoculars had established that the farmer had so far not evacuated; there was smoke coming out of the chimney. ‘Don’t let’s ever forget that we really were once a cavalry regiment, Billy,’ he said.
*
He put out a call for volunteers who could ride, thinking what a strange message to be sending to cavalrymen, and got six men. They sloshed through the snow to the farmhouse, and found, as Fergus had surmised, that the family had determined to sit it out, and that there were actually four horses still in the stable. The farmer was willing to rent three, and provided saddles and harnesses; in ten minutes Fergus and two of the troopers were mounted. ‘Tell Colonel Harding I hope to see him in Bassenge by tonight,’ he told the others, and led his escort across the field.
Progress was slow where the snow was heavy, but it was much quicker than on the road; even at a walk the horses were capable of making more speed than a bumper to bumper truck. But soon Fergus took to the road himself, able to thread his mount in and out of the blocked vehicles. He and his escort attracted a good deal of comment, the general opinion seeming to be that he was mad. As the cold began to strike through his greatcoat, he wondered if he wasn’t.
Most of the troops and the refugees seemed to be obsessed only with getting out of the path of the German juggernaut, but in the middle of the afternoon Fergus encountered an American Major commanding a withdrawing infantry battalion, who seemed to be keeping his head, and showed a good deal of interest when he discovered that Fergus was reconcentrating in the face of the enemy onslaught.
‘Fucking awful show,’ he remarked. ‘You seriously going to try to stop them, sir?’
‘You’re damn right,’ Fergus told him. ‘We know they haven’t crossed the river yet. That means they’re advancing on a very narrow front, and relying on the effect of surprise. That has to leave their lines of communication vulnerable. Now tell me about the bridges over the river.’
‘Well, we have engineers standing by to blow them the moment the Germans appear.’
‘But they’re still intact.’
‘Sure, at the moment. We need them for withdrawing our people.’
‘That includes the one at Vise?’
‘As far as I know. But according to the last report I had, that’s well back behind the panzers’ present position. Luckily they’re moving west all the time, and not north.’
‘That’s the point. That’s where they’re going to be thin on the ground. So that’s where I’m going to hit them.’
‘Gee, I sure wish I was coming with you,’ the Major said. ‘But we got orders to pull back twenty miles.’
‘I think you should ignore those orders,’ Fergus suggested. ‘I could do with some infantry support. Your fellows have bazookas, haven’t they?’
‘Sure we have, but hell...you trying to get me cashiered?’
‘We’ll be cashiered together, if we fail, Major. But maybe they’ll pat us on the back if we succeed?’
‘That would sure be something.’ He brooded for a few seconds. Then he said, ‘Okay, you’re on, Colonel. It’ll take a little while to get these trucks turned around.’
‘Then start now. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.’
‘Schmidt, sir.’
‘Schmidt?’
Major Schmidt grinned. ‘I was actually born in Milwaukee, sir.’
‘If you say so, Major. My name is Mackinder.’
‘Say, I’ve read about you.’
‘No,’ Fergus corrected him. ‘You have probably read about my father. There’s just one more thing: have you got any dynamite?’
‘I reckon so. We have our own engineer squad.’
‘Lend it to me.’
‘Lend it?’
Fergus grinned. ‘Call it lend lease, Major Schmidt.’
‘You gonna take it on that horse? What the hell for?’
‘Major, right now I don’t know who’s actually on our side or not. I propose to be able to handle any situation which may crop up.’
The dynamite was fetched, and carefully packed in a saddlebag. Fergus shook hands. ‘I’ll see you in Bassenge, Major, just as quickly as possible.’
He was accumulating himself a small division, he thought. Mackinder’s last charge. It would certainly be that if he acted without orders and got himself chopped up.
It was half past one that afternoon when he and his two lancers rode their exhausted horses in .0 the midst of the Royal Western Dragoon Guards.
*
‘There is one hell of a flap going on,’ Smithie told him. ‘I was never so happy as when I received your orders to stand fast. What the devil is happening?’
Fergus sat at the area map in his old ACV. ‘So far as I can make out, the enemy are launching an all-out drive south-west from the vicinity of Cologne. They have definitely taken Eupen, followed by Malmedy. That indicates a south-westerly direction. Now, they must have an objective; they simply do not have the men or the materiel to take on the entire combined Allied armies in a pitched battle. But if you follow the line of their advance, a pattern begins to develop. You have pulled back five miles from the river. Has the bridge at Vise been blown yet?’
‘I don’t think so. A sapper party turned up just as we were leaving, and said they had orders to blow the bridge the moment the Germans approached. But I think we would have heard the bang if they had.’
‘Correct. None of the other bridges this side of Namur have had to be blown either, yet. That means the Germans are sticking to the south of the Meuse, just. Now why are they doing that? It has to be because the river is the dividing line between the British and American forces. They know that at that point there will be some lack of clarity in command. And they’ve been proved right. They have also planned, and are carrying out, the most disruptive fifth-column work I have ever heard of. Now, my guess is that they are driving straight for Namur, the hinge of the two Allied groups as it were. Their idea is that the Yanks will fall away to the south-west, and the British will naturally recoil to the north-west. If they swing up towards Antwerp, after getting across at Namur, they could split the two halves of the Allied army right open, and perhaps hope to defeat each one in detail.’
‘Can they possibly do that, sir?’ Mather asked. All the squadron commanders had by now accumulated.
‘I doubt it. But if they’re allowed to try hard enough they could keep the war going for one hell of a long time yet. It’s all working out for them, right now. Bu
t let’s think about it logically. Firstly they are creating a big salient, relying on the withdrawal of all our forces to protect their flanks until their reserves can secure them. Secondly, they have to have a large reserve available, to throw at whichever wing of our forces they intend to roll up. We can’t do anything about the south and the Americans, but we sure as hell can do something about up here. If we cross at Vise and strike south, we’ll not only cut the German line of communications, but we’ll possibly check the advance of their second strike. So that’s our target. I’ve ordered the entire brigade to re-concentrate on Massenge by tonight, and I also have some hopes of at least one American infantry regiment joining us. I want every one of you to understand that we are taking on what could be vastly superior enemy forces, and that I am acting without orders. I am trying to contact General Manton, however, and I am sure he will support our intentions, hopefully with the rest of the division. For the time being, however, we are on our own. Are you with me?’
‘Yes, sir!’ they chorused.
‘Right. So now I want the regiment to head back to Bassenge as quickly as possible. There we’ll prepare our crossing. But I also want a reconnaissance sent out towards the Vise bridge.’
‘Yes, sir!’ Smithie said, and gave the necessary orders.
*
The roads east were now clear; as Conant had said, the regiment had formed the rearguard, and there was nothing left between them and the river. Yet it took time for the tanks and trucks to be turned round and headed ‘the other way, and it was already close to dusk when they once more rolled into Bassenge. But Bassenge was also deserted save for a few stray dogs which set up a mournful wailing as the tanks clanked into the village square.
‘I have Division, sir,’ said the telegrapher.
Murdoch took the handset.
‘Report your position,’ came the command.
‘Royal Western Dragoons are in Bassenge,’ Fergus said. ‘Brigade will concentrate here tonight, and I will attempt to cross the Meuse tomorrow morning and attack the German right.’
‘Have you orders to do that?’ The Staff Major was clearly astonished.
‘I have received no orders to do anything.’
‘Well, really, I say, Brigadier...’
‘Is Major-General Manton with you?’
‘Why, yes, sir.’
‘Let me speak with him.’
Manton came on the air. ‘I was told your people were out of there, Fergus.’
‘Did you give that order, sir?’
‘No, I did not. I was in Brussels on Friday. I came back here yesterday to find everyone moving west. Apparently on orders from GHQ. I’ve tried to contact Monty, but he’s in high-level conference. You say you’re concentrating on Bassenge. Are the bridges still intact?’
‘I’m trying to ascertain that now,’ Fergus said. ‘But I’ll get across somewhere.’
‘I would prefer it if you held on for a while. Complete your concentration, but take no further action unless the bridge at Vise is actually attacked. If you cross in brigade strength you are likely to be chopped up. On the other hand, Jerry has to widen his salient some time, and it’s most likely that he will attempt to do so to the north, in which case you will be in the right place to stop him; he’s far more likely to make his crossing at Vise than risk getting his armour bogged down in Liege or Maastricht. So your first business is to prevent any German irruption north or west of the Meuse. I’m going to try to get support up to you. But I’m not promising anything for twenty-four hours, given the state of the roads. Now Fergus, I want you to remember that you’re up against some fanatics, from what we can gather; reports have been coming in that SS detachments have been shooting American prisoners.’
‘Just so long as you’re coming,’ Fergus told him.
*
The troop which had gone out on reconnaissance came back just on dark.
‘Not a thing, sir,’ said Lieutenant Charters. ‘Not a soul in sight on the south bank. And the sappers say there’s been no movement either.’
Fergus frowned at him. ‘Not even the sounds of movement?’
‘No, sir.’
‘But the bridge is still intact?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did you tell the sappers we were coming?’
‘Yes, sir. They didn’t look too happy.’
‘I imagine they’re just longing to blow that bridge,’ Smithie suggested.
‘I wish to hell I knew what was going on south of the river,’ Fergus growled. ‘And now we’ve been ordered to stay here. Damnation. I want a patrol up there all night, Jimmy.’
‘It’ll be there,’ Smithie promised.
Fergus went off to see if the three horses, which had walked patiently along with the tanks on the return march, had been looked after, and found them in the care of the Sergeant-Major.
‘Some foul-up,’ Bert commented.
‘A gambler’s throw,’ Fergus assured him. ‘In a week’s time this will be history. Have you heard from Annaliese yet?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Well, I imagine the mails have been snarled up by this little mess. What about your application for a commission?’
‘Nothing there yet, either, sir.’
‘It’ll be along. I suspect you have a long career ahead of you. And a successful one.’
Bert grinned. ‘If we survive this one, sir.’
‘Oh, indeed. That goes for all of us.’
He climbed into his old bunk in the tiny sleeping cabin of the ACV, which Smithie had willingly evacuated. He was dog tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week. But at the same time he was feeling the exhilaration of impending battle, on top of the exhilaration of having held Monique in his arms. As he was going to do for the rest of his life. When he had nipped this little German plan in the bud.
*
He was awakened just before dawn by an apologetic Trooper Waterman. ‘Division is on the air, sir.’
Fergus hurried into the back of the vehicle, where the telegrapher was hunched over his set.
‘This is General Manton,’ the General said. ‘You’ll be pleased to know, Fergus, that Monty has been appointed commander of all Allied forces north of the “bulge”, as they’re calling it. He has the First and Ninth US armies under him, as well as our own people.’
‘Hallelujah,’ Fergus said. Now at last we may get something done.’
‘You bet. You’ll also be pleased to know that he entirely approves your action. You anticipated his own dispositions, in fact, to come in on the German lines of communication. He is therefore concentrating on you just as rapidly as he can. Is your brigade with you, yet?’
Fergus looked at Smithie, who had just got into the truck. The Colonel shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
‘Not yet, sir,’ Fergus said.
‘Well, see if you can hurry them up. Your orders are to hold that bridge. Maintain it intact as long as you can, but should German armour commence to cross it in such force that you cannot stop them, it is to be blown. We can always make another.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Fergus said. He let the General off the air, then thumbed the mike again. ‘Conant,’ he said. ‘Conant, where the devil are you?’
‘Ten miles away, sir. It’s not been possible to make any quicker time. These roads are so chopped about they’re damn near impossible even for tanks.’
Fergus knew he was right. ‘Well, keep coming as fast as you can,’ he told him. ‘Any word from Colonel Harding?’
‘I’m right behind the hussars, sir,’ Harding replied.
‘Major Schmidt?’
‘Behind your lancers, Brigadier.’
‘That’s fine. Keep coming.’
‘Brigade,’ said an urgent voice. ‘Brigade. B Troop, A Squadron, calling Brigade.’
‘That’s our reccy unit,’ Smithie said.
‘Come in, B Troop, this is Brigade.’
‘Enemy armour approaching the Vise bridge, sir. In strength.’
‘Es
timate the strength.’
‘At least a division, sir, but it could be more.’
‘That’s it,’ Fergus said. ‘We can’t stop them with just the regiment. Tell the sappers to blow, Lieutenant.’
‘The sappers aren’t here, sir,’ the Lieutenant said. ‘Say again?’
‘There’s no one about at all, sir.’
‘Oh, Jesus Christ,’ Smithie commented.
‘He isn’t here, either,’ Fergus said.
‘But how...’
‘They’ve done us again. Those weren’t our sappers at all. They were Jerries dressed up. They were there to protect the bridge just in case any genuine sappers turned up. God damn. I had a feeling about that. Thank God I did something about it. Tell your men to start up, Jimmy. We have to get down to that bridge.’
‘You said we couldn’t stop them with one regiment?’
‘We don’t have any choice. Lieutenant Masters, I want you to stay put.’
‘You want me to try to destroy the bridge with gunfire, sir?’
‘You won’t do that, with a seventy-five millimetre, and you’ll just give your position away. No, Lieutenant, I want you to hold on, and if the enemy armour starts to cross before we can get to you, stop them.’
There was a moment’s silence, then Masters said, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good man,’ Fergus said. ‘Shouldn’t be too long. Brigade out.’ Fergus replaced the handset and looked at Smithie.
‘You’ve just told him to commit suicide,’ the Colonel said.
‘Yes,’ Fergus said. ‘So let’s get down there to pick up the pieces.’ He summoned Bert. ‘I want you on this one, Sergeant-Major,’ he said. ‘Have you any experience with dynamite?’
‘A little, sir.’
Fergus gave him the saddlebag. ‘You’ll ride with Colonel Smithie and me.’
Bert gazed at him. ‘You want me to blow the bridge, sir?’
‘Somebody has to do it, Bert. I’ll be there with you.’
*
The engines were started, the carbon dioxide fumes rising and hanging on the still, cold air, and then the tanks rolled out of the village and down the road, behind a screening troop.
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