by Colin Forbes
Barnes reduced his speed close to zero. He remembered this bend and it was the worst one they would have to negotiate. The route they were following had been so simple that he had known exactly where they were ever since leaving the farm building. Once they had entered the village the way had led straight forward down the first street, across the square, continuing along the street beyond up to the first left-handed turn down the hill. At the bottom of the hill they turned right and then it was straight on again by the side road at the foot of the canal embankment. If they could only manage this corner ... They were almost round the sharp turn when it happened. They were moving slowly forward and then there was a terrific jolt and the tank stopped, its engines still ticking over. Barnes had jammed on the brake, warned by the impact and the scraping sound he had heard just before the jarring crash which rammed the detonator box savagely against his shoulder. He struggled against an overwhelming desire to be sick, too shaken to try and thrust the box back while his hands were free. Then he heard Colburn.
'Track's jammed against the left wall. Sorry - my fault. We'll have to get out of here quickly - that-sentry has started to walk down the hill. Reverse slowly. We can't go forward.'
Inside the hull Barnes heard the harsh grind of metal plate along immovable wall as he reversed carefully. Then the tank stuck. He grimaced and thought for a few seconds. If they weren't very lucky he could immobilize them. He remembered once seeing a track split and come apart, so that the tank hull moved for a few yards while it splayed out track like unrolling a metal carpet. If that happened they were done for, and there was that little matter of the sentry coming down the hill to investigate. They couldn't go forward so they'd have-to go back. Gritting his teeth, he reversed, hearing, feeling, the agonized grind of metal over stone. Then they were free again. And still intact. Colburn guided him round without haste and then they were moving along the next street, the headlights probing its emptiness and desolation. Barnes glanced at his watch, the one he had borrowed from Colburn. 3.30 am.
Up in the turret Colburn put the revolver back on the ledge next to the plunger box and wiped both his hands dry. The revolver had seemed a more appropriate weapon for one sentry. Taking a last look back at the dangerous corner he concentrated on observing the view ahead, issuing occasional instructions to keep Barnes in the dead centre of the street, his mind chilled. On his right a row of two-storey houses ran down the side of the street as a continuous wall, the upper-floor windows just above the level of his turret. To his left ran the high embankment of the unseen canal, a steep-sloped embankment at least twenty feet high which closed off the view across open fields. Ahead lay the street, a canyon of shadow, apparently deserted, the forward movement of the beams exposing only empty road. It seemed quite uncanny and as the tank ground forward Colburn found his nerves screwing up to an almost unbearable pitch of tension. Within the next few minutes they were bound to run into something very big.
Barnes was experiencing the same emotion, as far as he could experience anything beyond the mounting pain which gripped bis whole body. The tenderness of the shoulder wound was almost unendurable now as the side of the detonator box sagged against him, a relentless pain which should have obscured all others, but he could still feel the aching bruise on top of bis head where the German sentry had knocked him out and the back of his burnt left hand felt strangely disembodied, as though it might float off the end of his arm. And over it all flooded a tidal wave of fatigue which threatened to drown his mind, a wave held back more by pain than by any effort of will.
Another part of his mind mechanically operated the steering levers and the two control pedals - the gear-box clutch pedal on the left and the accelerator on the right. There was a hill in front of them, a hill which rose almost level with the embankment then a steady drop with a side turning off to the right, then another hill beyond that...
Colburn's voice was taut. 'We're running alongside the canal embankment now - there's a line of houses on the right. Still no sign of trouble.'
Which was exactly how Barnes was visualizing it. Had they got away with it? Already they were driving along this road at the very edge of Lemont - the village ended abruptly at the embankment and beyond there was open country. Jacques had told him that it was very much of a side road, which was why they had reconnoitred along this route. And now they had left behind what Barnes had anticipated might well be the grimmest part of their journey - the dash through the village. What lay ahead didn't bear thinking about but it almost looked as though they might reach the airfield. In his mind's eye he saw the lie of the land ahead. They had come in one way, along this road to the empty house of Jacques' father, and then for safety's sake they had come back across the fields on the far side of the embankment... He heard the shot, one single report. Then another.
Colburn had been striving to watch all ways at once - the road ahead, the road behind, the line of two-storey houses to his right and the silhouette of the high embankment which showed more clearly now against a faint glow. Dawn was on the way. He looked for his watch and remembered that he had loaned it to Barnes. The line of the embankment was dropping now as they began to move uphill. He knew that soon he would be able to see across it and he kept reminding himself to keep a sharp eye on those houses. There was no reason to suspect any danger from their darkened windows but they worried him because they were so close and the upper windows looked down on the tank. He picked up the revolver and the weapon gave him a sense of security.
The emergency happened so unexpectedly that it almost took his breath away. A window on an upper floor was flung open and the curtain must have been attached to it: a pool of light flooded out and illuminated the tank below. Colburn looked up and saw a German soldier, his pudding-shaped helmet clearly visible, staring down. He heard him shout, saw him reach back into the room and then lift a machine-pistol. Colburn reacted instantly, raising his revolver, he fired twice. As the tank moved on the German toppled into the garden below.
'Barnes, a Jerry opened a window and spotted us. He was going to shoot but I got in first.' Colburn wished that the damned intercom wasn't simply one-way. It was like talking to a ghost. 'If they've got a phone in the house they'll be all over us soon now. Unless he was alone with a girl. He had his helmet on,' he added with unconscious humour.
Barnes thought of the joke and smiled grimly. He hoped that the German had been with a girl: if that were the case she'd probably try and get a neighbour to dump the body into the convenient canal. Not that it was likely if the village had been evacuated, so they'd better assume a warning was going out. They must be close to the top of this hill now, and close to where he had crossed the canal with Jacques over that huge barge. Was there something wrong? He could have sworn he had heard Colburn suck in his breath. Colburn had sucked in his breath and now he was no longer looking at the houses or at the embankment. He was gazing straight ahead and as they moved over the hill-top his mouth was dry with fear such as he had not known since they started their fateful journey through Lemont.
From his vantage point at the hill crest he could see over the summit of the hill beyond where a chain of headlights moved towards him, an endless chain which threw up a great glow of light behind the next hill summit. He had no doubt at all that he was looking at a column of armoured vehicles advancing down the road they were moving along, probably a column sent for the express purpose of intercepting them. My God, he thought, and I was kidding myself up that we might have got away with it. We're finished now, finished.
'Barnes! There's a whole stream of traffic on the road ahead. It's still some distance off but it's coming towards us and we'll meet it in the next few minutes. They're on-to us - it must be Panzers, a helluva lot of them.'
Barnes' reaction staggered him. He felt the tank pick up speed as it moved down the hill, the tracks grinding round "faster and faster as they rumbled forward at ever-increasing pace as though Barnes couldn't wait to meet the oncoming column in head-on collision. For a moment he thou
ght he had gone mad and then they reached the bottom of the hill and stopped. The headlights went out and Barnes rolled back the hood. He paused for a second while he heaved the detonator box back into position, using both hands to push the case firmly against the side of the hull. Then he jacked up the seat so that when he sat down his head would be above the hatch. He called up to the anxious Colburn.
'How far away are those vehicles?'
'Half a mile, I'd guess. I can't be certain.'
'Maybe only a quarter?'
'No, at least half a mile. Barnes, our lights have gone.'
'I put them out. I don't want to risk them seeing us go up the embankment.'
'Up there?'
Colburn stared in horror up the steep slope which rose twenty feet above them. Had Barnes lost his judgement? He must have decided to make a last stand from the top of the embankment, if they ever got up there. He couldn't have realized the strength of the column which was moving against them. He called down from the turret.
'There must be at least twenty or thirty vehicles heading towards us.'
'Listen, Colburn.' Barnes' voice was urgent. 'We're not going to fight them - we're trying to dodge them. I came back over this canal with Jacques dead opposite this road behind us which leads back into Lemont. We came over a huge barge with a deck like an aircraft carrier - it almost fills the canal. We're going to reverse into this side street until Bert's nose is pointed up that embankment - then up there is where we go.'
'Will the tank make it?'
'I don't know till we try it but it's our only chance. It's close to dawn, so if we don't make it now we never will. When we reach the top there'll he a split second for you to see whether we're driving on to the centre of the barge. I'll be ready to brake, but I can't do that till we're off the slope. You'll have to react damned quickly. Got it?'
'If it's OK to go on, I'll say OK. If it isn't I'll say stop.'
The side road which led off at right-angles to the embankment was wide enough to give ample room for Barnes to reverse into quickly. Then he paused briefly to flex his fingers. Without thinking about the chances against success he went forward, guessing that Colburn thought it was a maniac's last throw, and up in the turret confidence was the last of the emotions which inspired Colburn. He would have liked to look two ways at once - up to the bill crest behind which the armoured column was advancing and straight ahead where the slope loomed like the side of a mountain. Beneath him the tracks began to claw and grind up the gradient as though finding it difficult to hold on to the lower slope and Colburn found himself tilted backwards against the rear of the turret. Barnes seemed to be going up at a fantastic pace. Supposing the barge wasn't in the right position to act as a bridge? Supposing the enemy column poured over the hill crest when they were halfway up the embankment? Grimly he recalled his remark to Barnes just before they had started out. Were there, after all, too many 'supposings' in this equation? I don't think we'll make this one, Colburn told himself.
Barnes had decided, and now he never asked himself whether or not they could make it. His pain-battered mind was concentrated on one idea only - get Bert over the top. Because the tilt of the tank was longitudinal rather than sideways the detonator boxes were holding their position well, but could they stand up to this sort of treatment? The tank rocked badly as the forward tracks moved into a depression and then climbed out of it, the engines revving madly as Barnes fought to take the tank higher. Very unstable, Colburn had called British detonators, the Germans use Trotyl. The left-hand track sank alarmingly into another depression and the box slipped again, slamming hard against his shoulder, grating its weight into the sensitive wound. He stiffened abruptly, swearing that he would throw out that box if they ever reached the other side, and, knowing that he was approaching the summit, he accelerated.
Colburn was standing upright in the turret now, holding himself erect by grasping the front rim with both hands, because it was vital to see instantly whether they were correctly placed to move across that barge, a barge he couldn't even see yet. But he felt the acceleration and knew that Barnes was going to rush it. Anxiously he leaned farther forward. They reached the top.
'OK, Barnes! OK! OK!'
There it was - the barge. They were going to hit it dead centre. The tank paused, its forward tracks in the air briefly, then dropped level to the tow-path. It moved forward again across a few inches of water and landed in the middle of the flat deck. The barge shuddered under the impact of its immense visitor and the tank moved on until it was halfway across the deck. Then the engines stalled.
Colburn forced himself to say nothing. They were now trapped on top of the embankment in full view of the approaching column once it breasted the summit of the hill. He heard Barnes trying again and again to start the engine. Instinctively his eyes swept over the summit of the hill behind which the column was advancing. Nothing yet, but the front of the column must be very close now. He could imagine the scene so clearly - the first heavy tank cresting the hill, spotting them clearly silhouetted against the pale light, wirelessing back to the column, continuing down the hill as more vehicles followed, the barrage of shells aimed point-blank ... He found he was holding his revolver tightly and forced himself to relax his grip. His eyes rested on the plunger below him and then he looked again at the glow of light behind the hill, a glow which seemed to grow stronger every second as Barnes repeated his efforts to start the engines without success. Colburn glanced back the way they had come and the street was still deserted.
Who had summoned the armoured column? Probably the owners of the second motor-cycle and side-car in the square they had crossed. Then the engines fired, the tank jerked forward, left the barge and plunged down the far slope at speed. At the bottom Barnes turned in a wide curve and halted the tank facing along the canal. He switched off the engines, rolled back the hood and climbed out quickly.
'I thought we'd stall at the top,' he remarked. 'No sign of that column? Good. Colburn, could you come down and give me a hand to dump this bloody box?'
He checked his watch. 3.40 am. Twenty minutes to zero hour.
The field below the embankment was firm hard earth and there were no hidden quagmires to hold up their advance, although not so far off to the left was a vague glimmer of flooded areas. The tank rumbled forward as Barnes gazed through the slit window from his lowered seat, following the same course he had taken when he had returned from the reconnaissance with Jacques. The next twenty minutes would decide the whole issue, would decide whether the 14th Panzer Division would advance across the waterline to spring on an unsuspecting Dunkirk, or whether they could muddle things so drastically that the Panzers would be delayed, perhaps fatally. Colburn was talking now.
'I think I can see the archway under the embankment.' That archway was the end of the line, a phrase Colburn had spoken just before Barnes had set off on the reconnaissance which had deprived them of Reynolds, but without that reconnaissance they would never have reached this point. Through the archway lay an open field with the aerodrome beyond - the site of a huge ammunition dump and the laager of the waiting Panzers. Tight-lipped, Barnes peered through the slit window as the tank rolled forward in the early morning light.
He found that he had increased speed without realizing it and he wondered about that archway. Would it be wide enough? He had paced out its width, immediately thinking of Bert when he had crept under it with Jacques, and he had estimated that in an emergency they should just be able to manage it. They had to manage it - the archway was the only means of approaching the target from this side of the canal. The growing light was apparent even through his narrow window and he prayed that the defences had not been reinforced since they had left the place, but there was always the chance that the Germans would confidently rely on the heavy column they had sent along the road to investigate the intruders. He wondered how Colburn was feeling, knowing that these might be his last few minutes of life.
In the turret Colburn kept looking to the east wh
ere the pale glow of dawn was spreading across the horizon. If they had been half an hour later they would never have passed through the village successfully - and even if they had got through the 14th Panzer Division would already have been on the move. Would they really manage it? He glanced down at the plunger again with a feeling of wonderment, suddenly conscious of the fact that he might be dead within the hour, or sooner. It was an odd sensation and involuntarily he shivered. There was a sharp chill in the air now and white mist was rising off the fields. He had seen the same mist rising off the early morning fields near Manston. Then he saw the archway clearly and Manston faded.
The archway looked far too narrow to allow the passage of the tank, its stone walls so close together that Colburn thought they could let through nothing larger than a farm wagon. A feeling of bitter disappointment swept through him - they were going to be stopped at the last moment because of a single archway. There was no question of driving the tank up the embankment a second time - the slope here was even more
steeply-angled, to say nothing of the fact that if they reached the top their advance would be stopped by the canal itself. A sense of overwhelming frustration was in his voice when he spoke.
'Barnes, this archway's too narrow to get through - I'm sure of it.'