by Colin Forbes
'Your idea about the car is good,' said Mandel. 'If they ask to see Jacques' papers they will see that he comes from Lemont and may wonder why he is here - so take him with you when you hide and I will get him to move the car at once.'
An hour later they were making tremendous progress, encouraged by the sight of the tank sinking lower and lower behind the walls of hay. The work had been considerably speeded up by Ederme who had now completed dismantling three quarters of the haystack and was using his power-grab to transport the loose bales right up to the walls, so that all the others had to do was to manoeuvre the 'bricks' into position. Soon the end walls were finished and within another half-hour the rear wall was over five feet high: even at the back only the turret still protruded, looking rather like the conning tower of an invisible submarine submerged in a sea of hay. They were all working in a frenzy now, standing on the rear wall, on the hull of the tank as they wrestled the, bales into position, never stopping for a moment. The unspoken thought that they might just fail for the sake of a few bales gave added impetus to their efforts and now Mandel and Reynolds worked stripped to the waist, their bodies running with sweat in the warm sunshine. It was going to be another lovely day - for the Germans.
There had been no traffic along the main road since they had started, not even a farm cart, and this puzzled Barnes until he mentioned it to Mandel who laughed grimly.
'No one comes this way at the moment because they know that the Panzers use the highway, so what happens? My neighbours go miles out of their way along side roads when they could use this road easily, but they will not risk the Panzers.'
'What happens when the Panzers meet something?'
'If they meet a vehicle or catch it up they tip it into the ditch. Nothing must stop the progress of the Panzers. That is why people are keeping away from here. You see, Sergeant Barnes, soon we shall be finished.'
With the four walls completed they turned to the final task - the roofing-in of the new structure. Putting the icing on the cake, as Mandel called it. From this stage Barnes and Reynolds stood on top of the walls while Etienne handed up bales with the power-grab. It proved to be a more difficult stage than they had anticipated, because first they had to fill in the area round the turret, dropping bales down on to the hull and tracks and fitting these in round the gun. The gun was a nuisance because they had to wedge in bales round the long barrel and it slowed them down, but they persisted and then suddenly they had done the job. The drawback was that they ended up with an irregular roof which looked strange; once again Mandel came up with the solution, telling Etienne to use the power-grab in a certain way. Standing back on the road Barnes watched as the machine moved forward, the grab hoisted to its highest elevation. When it stopped Etienne brought the shovel down full force again and again, hammering the roof of hay flat. When he had completed the job even Barnes had to agree that from the road the haystack looked perfectly normal and he could hardly believe that Bert nestled inside the new structure. Then his eyes dropped to the ground in front of the stack and his mouth tightened. The earth was littered with hay relics and flattened dead grass which described a neat rectangle clearly locating the original site of the stack.
'Mandel - the Germans will see that. 'It's a dead give-away.' 'All has been prepared. Do not worry. You will see!' Reynolds and Etienne were now walking slowly back from the farm and between them they carried an enormous tarpaulin which they proceeded to spread over the marked area under Mandel's guidance. When it was in place the farmer began pulling hay from underneath the sheet and throwing it at random over the top.
'Now it means nothing. Perfect camouflage! This cover could have slipped off the haystack or been pulled off to let the sun dry the stack out. So now we can go inside and wait for them.'
'I still think you ought to hide in the fields with us.' 'No, we shall stay here to welcome them. More camouflage! So long as we line up on the roadside acknowledging their achievements they are quite happy. You will come in for some wine?'
'No, I'll wait here and relieve Penn. Why is Etienne dumping those spare bales in your yard?'
'To create a diversion. If something exciting is happening when they arrive it will take their minds off other things -including that haystack. Leave this to me and do not worry if you see signs of fire when the Boche comes. Marianne will bring a glass of wine to you and inside we shall drink a toast. To the tank!'
Barnes went into the middle of the road and waited alone as he watched the deserted hill crest. Supposing that after all their troubles the Panzers didn't come? But they were halted on this side of Beaucaire and he remembered that apart from one or two country lanes there had been no major road leading off this one. Could they possibly get away with it? He looked at the stack again, amazed by its appearance of normality. Just so long as they didn't start pushing bayonets into it, although it would need a pretty long bayonet to reach Bert through those walls. And this, he thought, is a method of camouflage you won't find in the textbooks.
Frequently he looked behind him along the road towards Cambrai and then he looked up into the brilliantly blue morning sky. Not a cloud anywhere, but more important still, not a plane either. Again it was hard to believe there was a war on. A few minutes later, at 7.15 am, he was running at top speed towards the house when he met Marianne on her way out with a glass of wine, a glass he knew that he would never drink. He had just seen the first German tank coming over the hill crest.
They lay full length in a ditch some distance from the house but at a point where Barnes could still see it. The ditch was dry and disused and thick with tall weeds. A German would have to be on top of them before there was the remotest chance of' their being spotted, and the ditch was a long way from anywhere. A long way from the road and a long way from the outhouse where the Renault was now hidden. Penn, Jacques, and Reynolds were sprawled out along the ditch behind him and the machine-pistol rested in front of his chest. Barnes had deliberately placed Jacques between the two men because he was fairly sure that they would have to lie there for two or three hours and he had no knowledge of the lad's endurance. When he had taken Reynolds aside his instructions had been quite precise.
'If he gets panicky and there's no other way out - knock him on the head with your revolver butt.'
Through a clump of weeds Barnes could see the farmhouse and a section of the road. The view looked incredibly peaceful, a pastoral scene with not a soul in sight. His eye fell on the haystack, an innocent piece of furniture one might expect to find anywhere out in the country. For the second time in twelve hours Bert was all on his own. He stiffened. From the road beyond the house he heard the high-pitched engine sound of a motor-cycle: a patrol must have overtaken the leading tank and roared on ahead. A cycle with a side-car came into view, turned, and drove out of sight into the farmyard. Penn kept his own voice down as he spoke, although it wasn't necessary.
'Have they arrived?'
'Just a motor-bike and side-car. They've gone into the yard.'
'Let's hope Mandel can handle them.'
'He'll handle them all right just so long as they don't start investigating that haystack.'
'Something's smoking - look, just beyond the roof.' Penn rested his chin on the edge of the ditch. 'They can't have set the place on fire already.'
'Got it! The artful old devil set fire to those spare bales Etienne dumped in the yard. That's his diversion to keep them occupied.'
For the first time Barnes wondered what rank Mandel had attained during the First World War.
'Any sign of the two Jerries?' inquired Penn.
'No, they must still be at the house ... keep your head down! Tell the others.'
Along the road from behind the house the first German heavy tank appeared, its commander erect in the turret. The machine seemed to glide along the highway and across the field they could hear the low grumble of its revolving tracks. He estimated the vehicle's speed at fifteen miles an hour and the gun barrel was elevated at an angle of about ten degrees
. Another tank moved into view, then another and another. They were certainly in a hurry to get somewhere and he was surprised that they were not spaced farther apart. The column's commander was either foolhardy or else he had very good reason to know that they risked no danger of air attack.
Grimly he watched the enemy tanks and then thought of the Mandels again.
What on earth was happening at the farm? There had been no sign of the Mandels and the motor-cycle patrol was still on the premises. Gradually, the smoke from the fire died down until only a thin wisp rose above the rooftop. By the side of the : machine-pistol lay Barnes' field-glasses but he was reluctant to use them except in an emergency - the sun could so easily reflect off the lenses and if one of those commanders in the turrets spotted it the fat would be in the fire. He settled himself down to a long wait. Providing all went well at the farm there wasn't a great deal of risk to fear: it was largely a matter of patience, of waiting for the enemy to go away. This comfortable thought had just passed through his mind when he heard the plane.
Instantly he was reminded of the machine which had spied out the ground for the Panzers crossing the country south of Fontaine. He would always remember that place as Fontaine. His body tensed, his nerves twanged as he realized the implications, and he could have kicked himself for his complacency. The element of comparative safety had now been turned into one of maximum danger. He could tell that the plane was flying very low, and from the way its engine sound faded, and then grew louder he guessed that it was travelling in a circle. It was the one hazard which he should have foreseen, the one which had completely escaped him. Turning on his side he spoke rapidly over his shoulder.
'It's a spotter plane, probably flying very low. From now on no one moves a whisker. Pass it on.'
'I'm the only one with a whisker to move,' said Penn.
From observation on land they were completely concealed but aerial observation was quite a different matter. There were four of them stretched but close together and the machine sounded to be only a few hundred feet up. They should still escape detection so long as they remained motionless, but in that still empty countryside only a small movement at the wrong moment could easily locate them. Pressing his body into the ditch, Barnes slowly turned his head to one side until he could see a narrow oblong of pure blue sky. The plane was very close now, almost on top of them from the sound, then it flashed into view. It was barely two hundred feet up, so low that he could see the outline of the pilot's helmet, a helmet which was tilted downwards. Then it vanished. Barnes wet his lips and then stiffened again. The plane was turning to come back again. Surely they couldn't have been spotted so quickly? Unless someone had moved. Jacques flashed into his mind and he stifled a groan. If he had moved Reynolds could hardly have warned the lad in time, the damage would have been done. Yes, it was definitely turning back, coming closer. What on earth could have attracted the pilot's attention? Suddenly he went ice-cold as the reason for the pilot's return flashed through his brain. He was coming back to examine the haystack.
With an awful clarity Barnes saw their fatal mistake. He had personally checked the appearance of the stack from the road which had seemed the obvious danger point. But he had forgotten the air! In his mind he relived the final stages of the camouflage operation. The roof of the stack had looked bumpy so Etienne had used the power-grab shovel to flatten the top. Supposing some of the bales had sunk into the hollow, perhaps falling down into a space between the tank and the hay walls? It could easily have happened and this meant that from the air Bert was now exposed to view. Penn's finger tapped him on the shoulder.
'Anything wrong? I saw your hand grip the pistol.'
'No,' said Barnes firmly, 'but keep absolutely still. That plane's coming back.'
Even though he couldn't see it yet he could hear it quite clearly now. The machine was describing another circle, but this time it was a smaller circle, a circle whose centre could well be the farmhouse - or the haystack. Very slowly, inch by inch, he raised his head above ditch level, taking care not to disturb the weeds. The Mandels, all three of them, were out standing by the roadside as a self-propelled gun rolled past. There was no sign of the motor-cycle patrol which must have driven off while his head was buried in the ditch. He studied the Mandels, trying to tell something from the way they stood. Then between the weeds the plane darted into view, flying straight towards him across the road. He kept perfectly still, resisting the temptation to duck. As it went over, the Mandels looked up and then dutifully turned their gaze back to the road as another heavy tank rolled past. The commander's head was turned towards them. Had he made some remark? The spotter plane swooped even lower and roared over their heads. What had caught his attention?
He tried to put himself in the position of the pilot. What would he do? At his first sight of the tank inside its huge box of hay he would hardly believe his eyes, so he would circle in again for a closer look, which could well be the operation he had just completed. Then he would circle again and come in for a third and final look before he wirelessed the commander of the column. At least that's the way I'd handle it, Barnes told himself grimly. Had the plane gone away? He strained his ears for the sound of its engine. His wound was throbbing badly this morning and lying in that fixed position he could feel his right knee stiffening, the knee which had struck the underwater rock. No, the bloody plane hadn't gone away - it was coming back now for the third time round. It flew directly over the haystack and headed straight for him, waggling its wings from side to side. Why the waggle? Was it a signal? He felt stiff, clammy and sweat-soaked. They were trapped and all they could do was to wait inside the trap, hoping that these alarming manoeuvres of the plane had some other explanation. It passed directly over them and turned back to follow its familiar course. Still counting, he watched the endless column of vehicles move past to the west.
It was only ten minutes later when he was still waiting for a plane that never reappeared that he grasped the fact that Bert had not been spotted. For over an hour he refused to accept the idea completely, expecting that at any moment the haystack would be surrounded, but still the column rolled past and still the Mandels patiently witnessed its progress. Just how . many Panzers did the Germans possess? He made a rough-and-ready estimate of what they had seen since leaving Etreux and then doubled it, arriving at the conclusion that the German High Command must be deploying three or four full-equipped Panzer division in northern France.* The BEF complement was one tank brigade and one tank regiment. A tap on his back told him that Penn wanted to speak.
'I thought you might like to know, Sergeant, that I've got ants crawling all over me and cramp in my leg. It's nothing to worry about, mind you, but I knew you'd want to know.'
'Good of you to keep me informed, Penn.'
'I'll be issuing regular bulletins from now on.'
The ants were crawling over Barnes, too, crawling inside his uniform. He had first felt the tickle of their tiny bodies when the plane was flying over, at the very moment when they had to lie as still as death. Since then he had been constantly aware of this minute enemy. Lying full length in the ditch there was no way of ejecting them and by now the tickling sensation had invaded the lower part of his body, crawling over his stomach and his groin until he thought that he would go mad if this went on much longer. Penn tapped him on the shoulder again.
'I haven't heard anything recently ... what's that?'
'The end of the column's gone, I think. A staff car's just stopped...'
'It's probably the general - they always ride at the rear of the column!'
'The officer's just gone into the house with the Mandels. It shouldn't be long now - the driver's stayed with the car.'
Fortunately, Barnes was too far away to hear the conversation which had preceded the Mandels' return to their home, otherwise his mind might have been racked with anxiety.
* Barnes underestimated. General von Rundstedt's Army Group A deployed seven Panzer divisions - over two thousand armoured vehi
cles.
Outwardly Mandel showed no traces of alarm as the staff car slowed down and then stopped. His expression was sleepy, the hands by his sides limp, but he sensed that just at the moment when he had thought all would be well fate had dealt him a bad hand. The major who sat by his driver's side was immaculately dressed, his uniform newly pressed, the peaked cap resting squarely on his head. He stared down the road after the tail of the Panzer column when he first spoke, presenting them a profile which might have been carved out of stone. His French was highly guttural.
'I trust that you are now convinced of the invincibility of the German Army after what you have seen?'
'We could hardly fail to be,' Mandel replied quietly.
'Good, good.' The major stood up, got out of his car, closed the door, and stared down at Mandel from his great height. 'You still have plenty to eat?'
'We have sufficient for the moment, but as to later ...' He spread his hands and dropped them.
'And to drink?'
'For the moment, just enough.'