Tramp in Armour

by Colin Forbes

  'Good, good. Aren't you going to ask me inside? I may even furnish you with a certificate saying you are reliable citizens. That would come in useful when the next column arrives. There have been cases of French civilians firing on German troops and some commanders are a trifle hasty in their judgement.'

  Without a word Mandel turned and led the way into the farmyard, his face still expressionless. When he reached the front door he stopped to let his wife and Etienne enter first and then waited for lie German officer. The major had stopped in the middle of the yard to take a cigarette from a gold case. While he lit it he looked towards the remnants of burnt hay.

  'I see that you have had a fire here very recently.'

  'It started just before your column arrived - two of your men very kindly helped us to put it out.'

  'That does not surprise me - in spite of what the lying British propagandists say the German soldier is always chivalrous. Now you will be able to tell your friends the truth in future.'

  Mandel made no reply and the officer stood for a minute looking round him while he smoked. Gazing at the haystack he pointed with the cigarette.

  'It is a good thing something like that didn't catch fire -that would be a tragedy for you, I'm sure.'

  'We take care not to smoke near it,' said Mandel, feeling it wiser to make some reply.

  'Ah well, we must not keep your good lady waiting. And I'm sure she dislikes smoking inside her house.'

  He threw down his smoking cigarette among some pieces of straw which began to burn almost at once. Seeing that there was no danger of the fire spreading Mandel walked after the German and found him standing in the kitchen looking at the framed decoration above the mantelpiece.

  'The Croix de Guerre! I am in the presence of an old soldier then. I imagine you earned this fighting in the last war?'

  'Probably at the same time as you obtained the Iron Cross on your tunic,' Mandel replied politely.

  The officer glanced at him quickly, fingering the cross. Marianne stood by the table, her arms folded over her chest as she stared out of the window across the fields. Mandel wished that she had gone upstairs but he was aware that she was staying in the hope of keeping down the temperature. By her side Etienne gazed into the fireplace. The major spoke abruptly, his voice harsh.

  'You said you had plenty to drink. Since my men so kindly helped you to put out the fire I think they should be suitably rewarded. Would you not agree? Two or three bottles of cognac would be acceptable, I'm sure.'

  So that's it, Mandel thought, he's after loot. And they make a man like this an officer. Since he's a heavy cognac drinker his temper is probably uncertain. I'll have to watch this carefully.

  'I have no cognac, Major, but possibly a bottle of wine or two? Would your men prefer red or white, do you think?'

  'They would prefer cognac.' His voice was a whiplash now. He stood very erect, his nostrils flared, his eyes glowing. 'Since you say you are running short we will give them three bottles only, which is a meagre enough reward. Had the fire spread this house might have been burnt down. And understand this, my men are here to fight a war - not to help profiteering French farmers save their capital!'

  'I'm sorry - you can search the place. We have wine but no cognac. Not a single bottle.'

  The German eyed him grimly. 'You hid it when the first column came through here. I have little doubt of that.'

  Casually, he unbuttoned the flap of his leather hip holster and withdrew the pistol, holding it sideways in one hand, the muzzle pointing towards Marianne. Mandel moved quickly in front of her, while behind him his wife slipped a hand towards her throat. He saw Etienne's eyes on the heavy poker in the fireplace and almost imperceptibly he frowned, giving a little shake of his head. Knowing that at any moment there might be a tragedy he took the initiative quickly.

  'Major, the cupboard in that corner is full of wine - may I show you and then you can make your choice?'

  Slowly he moved towards the cupboard and the pistol turned away from Marianne to point at the wall. Without further hesitation Mandel threw open both doors and started lifting out bottles on to the table. The German waited until a dozen stood in a row and then he put away his gun.

  'That will have to do if you persist in being obstinate. You and the boy - bring all the bottles on the table out to my car.'

  They hurried out across the yard, three bottles under each arm, while the officer followed slowly. The driver snapped something at them, indicating that they should store the bottles on the back seat. When they had emptied their arms he leaned over and pulled a greatcoat across the bottles to conceal them. The major had left the yard now and strolled along the road to stand close to the haystack. He looked at it with interest while he extracted a fresh cigarette and lit it in a leisurely fashion. Mandel sent Etienne away to the farmhouse and waited tensely, feeling quite sure that their ordeal was not ended yet. From the direction of Beaucaire a motor-cycle patrol drove up, slowing down arid then speeding away as the officer waved them on. The driver had started the engine of the staff car but the major seemed in no hurry to depart: in fact, the haystack appeared to fascinate him and he began to walk round it as he took short puffs at his cigarette.

  Nothing shows, Mandel told himself, nothing shows at all. He cannot possibly suspect anything so why is he taking such a great interest in it? With a tremendous effort he compelled himself to assume an attitude of complete indifference, even going so far as to clasp his hands over his stomach while he looked up at the sky as though checking the weather situation. The major had walked right round the haystack now and he made a small gesture with his free hand. Driving forward, the car pulled up close to the officer who now stood with his back to the road facing the haystack. Again he spoke without looking at Mandel.

  'I do fear that the cognac you so stubbornly concealed is going to prove a most expensive proposition.'

  Raising his right hand he aimed with great care, tossing the burning cigarette high in the air so that when it fell it landed out of sight on top of the stack. Then he stood and waited, one hand close to his holster flap, studying Mandel's face closely. Appalled, the Frenchman showed only the reaction expected. Hanging his shoulders, he gazed at the stack in glum despair, then very slowly he turned away and walked back to the farmhouse, forcing himself not to hurry, hoping that by removing himself from the scene of the conflagration the German would lose interest and go away.

  The officer stood watching the top of the stack which was now crackling and sputtering, suddenly flaring up until the entire roof was a crown of flames. Satisfied, he got back into his seat and the car drove off at a high speed.

  Only by exerting his will-power far beyond its normal limits was Barnes able to keep himself pressed down inside the ditch. He had seen the German officer studying the stack, he had even seen that he was smoking because now he risked using his field-glasses. But as if some telepathic intuition had been transmitted between them he had understood Mandel's action when he slowly trailed back to the house. Seen from this great distance the burning stack presented an even more alarming spectacle as grey-black smoke billowed in a huge cloud above the road, and from where he lay Barnes could see red tongues of flame licking their way along the full length of the roof of hay. He felt Penn stirring as Mandel walked away.

  'We'd better get moving - we've got to try and put that lot out. We can shoot those two while we're about it.'

  'Keep yourself down,' Barnes rasped. 'We're not moving till that staff car is well on its way.'

  'You've got the machine-pistol,' Penn protested. 'And we've got our revolvers.'

  'And they've got their car, you idiot. As soon as they see us coming they'll drive off and then be back with half that column.'

  It wasn't only the unit he was thinking of. More important still he had no intention of putting the Mandels into further danger, no matter what the cost. And the cost could be very high.

  'You're just going to let Bert burn?' Penn protested again.

 
; 'The car's off now. No one gets up till I give the word.'

  Lifting himself cautiously only a few feet, his body still well-concealed behind the weeds, he watched the car racing away. When it reached the next hill crest and vanished he started running, running as he had never run before, keeping easily ahead of the others in spite of his smallness. The stack was roofed with flames, flames which drove the smoke several feet above the top of the stack. He was drawing close to the conflagration when he heard the power-grab coming across the field, moving forward so fast that the elevated arm was swaying wildly. They were all arriving at once - Etienne with the power-grab, Barnes, Mandel hauling and heaving desperately at a huge coil of hosepipe.

  'Give Reynolds the grab,' Barnes shouted. 'I'll take that hose. Leave this to us - the tank is full of diesel and it may blow at any minute. Get back inside the house.'

  'No!' Mandel shouted back. 'Etienne knows how to use the grab. Help me with this hose. It will take all of us to save it. The tank, I mean - the stack is gone.'

  Marianne came running forward with several pitch-forks and Mandel told her to drop them and go straight back to the house. It was developing into a horrible muddle until Barnes took charge. Pitch-forks for Reynolds and Jacques. Etienne was left to work the grab. Barnes began to unloop the hose while Mandel fixed the other end to an outlet pipe from a small pump-house. While he worked Barnes was shouting instructions for Mandel to pass on to Etienne.

  'Get Etienne to scoop the burning bales off the top - he's to drop them well clear of the stack so the men with forks can carry them to the road. But the grab must be used to clear off the burning hay. I'll hose down the lower walls - we'll never save the top.'

  They worked like demons. As Barnes directed the powerful jet of water on the lower walls he tried to keep an eye on the spread of the fire, scared stiff that at any moment the fuel tanks would go up, wondering whether there had been a blow-back of fire from the top down into the hollow interior, a disaster which might not be seen until the whole stack suddenly burst into flames. And there was high-explosive inside that inferno - seventy rounds of two-pounder shells and ten boxes of Besa ammunition. He was close to the front wall now, spraying his jet in a steady arc, while nearby the grab was scooping up burning masses of hay above his head and throwing them clear. As the scorching bales hit the ground they crackled and spat angrily like live things. The heat was almost unbearable and Barnes was shielding his face with one hand while he held the bucking hose in the other, hardly able to see what was happening as acrid smoke filled his lungs and blinded his eyes. Behind him the men with pitch-forks were skewering the burning bales and carrying them over to the road where they dumped them and then ran back for more. Each bale was so heavy and unmanageable that it took two men to spear one bale and then lift it between them, and unknown to Barnes his corporal had seized a fork and formed a team with Mandel, holding the fork low down because he found it impossible to lift his right arm.

  The turret of the tank was visible now, again protruding strangely like the conning tower of a submarine, but this time like a submarine trapped in a sea of burning oil. It gave Barnes a pang to see it standing there and for a moment he moved back out of the smoke to assess the position. It looked quite hopeless. They had removed the greater part of the upper walls and the roof but the haystack still seethed with smoke and from inside it he could hear that horrid flame crackle working farther down. He saw Penn helping Mandel to carry away another bale and he opened his mouth to stop him, then closed it again without saying anything as he directed the water jet on to the hull of the tank. The temperature inside there must be ferocious, and never for a second could he forget that Bert was bloated - bloated with fuel, with shells, with ammunition - a state of affairs which only a few hours ago he had congratulated himself on but which might now bring about the death of the tank and several of its would-be rescuers. They were working at such a frenzied pitch that they hardly realized the injuries they were suffering from the scorching heat, but Barnes had already noticed that Reynolds' 'right forearm was an ugly mass of blisters. As he began hosing down the outer walls again Barnes himself narrowly escaped the most appalling injuries. He was directing the jet low down when he heard a shout from Etienne above him. Instinctively he jumped sideways. A mass of burning hay which had been balancing precariously in the power-grab shovel smothered the spot where he had stood a moment before. He swivelled the jet and drenched the hay, but it took several minutes to put the fire out and afterwards he couldn't understand why it hadn't set light to the main wall low down.

  Some time later he again stepped well back from the stack to see how much progress they were making, almost bumping into Reynolds who was carrying a blazing mass of hay towards the road when suddenly it disintegrated, almost collapsing in the driver's face. He just had time to jump clear but a shower of red-hot sparks sprayed over his already badly-blistered arm. Wiping his hand over his sweating forehead, Reynolds headed back to the stack while Jacques who had been leaning on his own fork, joined him.

  'We've nearly done it,' said Mandel.

  'Have we?'

  Barnes was astonished. Once he had emerged from the clouds of smoke the stack looked far quieter than he could ever have dared to hope. Bert was now exposed to halfway down his hull at the front, and although the turret was only occasionally visible behind the pall of smoke the vicious redness of the flames had died away. He paused to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief and then ran forward, switching on the hose: a line of flame had appeared along the top of the front wall and was growing with alarming speed. They'd never get the thing out. And close to the tank the temperature was still incredible, so fiercely concentrated that it seemed to come towards him in an invisible glow from the metal plates. It would happen so suddenly that they would probably have no warning - fuel first, one blasting outward thump, then the series of sharp explosions,as the ammunition started to burn, but they would probably never hear that second sound being as close to the tank as they were. It's like being on top of a ruddy great bomb, he thought. Through the smoke he could see figures moving without knowing who they were. Then, some time later, he thought, they at last had the inferno finally under control. It should only be a matter of dousing with water until even the smoke faded away. At that moment he heard a frenzied shout from Reynolds.

  'A burning bale's just dropped down Bert's side - it's flaring up close to the fuel tank.'

  Barnes tried to run forward through the smoke and was jerked backwards. The hose was trapped round the wheel of the power-grab. He lost precious seconds releasing it and then jumped up on to the front wall. The flaring bale had fallen down over the far side but. someone had got there first. Reynolds. He lifted his pitch-fork behind him to the fullest extent and then rammed it down like a bayonet, plunging the fork deep into the huge bale which was trapped between the hull and the rear wall of hay. Twisting it to tighten the fork's grip, he began to lift. From behind him Barnes could see the veins standing out on his left arm under the frightful strain. Two men had been handling these intact bales and now Reynolds was trying to hoist one by himself, to hoist it upwards from a position below him. Incredibly the bale began to come loose, edging upwards as flames danced round the buried fork. Reynolds went on lifting, his legs splayed wide on the hull, his broad back arching. The bale came up suddenly with a rush, but Reynolds was ready for that and he regained his balance by leaning back against the turret. He must have seen Barnes waiting with the hose because as he turned he shouted, 'Get out of my way!'

  Without the least idea of what the driver was going to do Barnes leapt back to the ground. Reynolds began to swing the bale in a slow arc through a hundred and eighty degrees, holding the massive weight at arm's length as the fire spread towards him along the fork. Stepping down off the wall he nearly lost his balance, but again he recovered as flames burst out all over the bale. Then he calmly walked across the grass to the road, still holding the flaming mass at arm's length. He had almost reached the road when it ig
nited into a small inferno, burning back and enveloping Reynolds. Barnes saw him hurl the bale forward, pitch-fork and all. It landed in the road and burst as Reynolds turned round to face the stack, both arms badly burned now, his hair singed, his face a brick-red colour. Ten minutes later Barnes was moving the hose over hay which barely smoked and the fire was out, but he still played the hose over the remaining walls and across the huh*. He had sent the others back to the house and now only Mandel wandered round the relic of the stack, holding a pitch-fork and finding nothing to do with it. Leaning over the wall Barnes touched the hull and quickly snatched his hand away.

  'You. think it's safe now?' asked Mandel. 'The petrol, I mean.'

  'If it was going up it should have gone up by now. Can you get Etienne to use his grab to shift the hay in front of the tank? When it cools down I'll have another go at the engine, but that won't be for a while yet. You'll be damned glad to see the back of us, Mandel.'

  'This is our war effort. Who knows - your tank may strike a decisive blow at the enemy.'

  A decisive blow? It seemed a little unlikely to Barnes at that moment and even less likely when later he followed them into the house to assess the damage to his crew. The kitchen had all the appearances of a casualty clearing station. Jacques who was now outside watching the road, and Etienne, had escaped with only minor burns, but Perm and Reynolds had borne the brunt of the injuries. Reynolds seemed to be in the worst state: he was sitting in a chair with his arms stretched out across the table and both arms had been bandaged by Marianne from wrist to just below the shoulder. As Barnes came in the driver stood up swaying slightly, and Mandel began to help him on with his shirt while Marianne attended to Perm who was flopped in the armchair. She had just finished applying a bandage which covered the whole of his left forearm and he winced as she tied the knot. But when he saw Barnes he managed a grin.