Darkest Hour (57 page)

Gort took a sip of his wine. He didn't much like Monty
- he was an irritating, conceited little man - but he knew his stuff, and when
it came to organization there was no one to beat him. The way he had moved 3rd
Division overnight to cover the gap left by the Belgians had been stunning. And
Monty wasn't a bad judge of character either - as he watched the man in front
of him, he felt certain his remaining troops within the bridgehead were in the
safest possible hands.

Even so, he hardly envied Alexander the task. After
lunch he handed him handwritten notes of the orders he had given him earlier.
Alexander was to remain under the command of the French Admiral Abrial, whom
Gort believed to be out of his depth physically and metaphorically; he knew
the admiral hadn't emerged from his bunkers in Bastion 32 since the crisis had
begun. Furthermore, it had been agreed by the French and British governments
that French troops should share the chance for evacuation, an order with which
Gort instinctively disagreed. Not for the first time, he had cursed the French
as he had written those instructions. Only one French general had agreed to fight
on at Dunkirk - de la Laurencie with his III Corps; that damned fool Blanchard
had sacrificed his entire army at Lille. He couldn't help feeling that the war
would be a lot more straightforward once the French were out of the fight.

Gort led Alexander into the palace drawing room; for
the past couple of days it had been his office. He offered him a cigar and
brandy. Then, as they puffed out clouds of smoke, he said, 'There's far too
much politicking going on, Alex, with London trying to placate Paris and so on.
HMG thinks it's essential that we're seen to be helping the French to the last.
You'll find Abrial's a decent enough fellow but, like so many French
commanders, not really in touch with the reality of what's going on here. You
must be respectful but firm with him. Yes, we'll help the French escape, but
your prime task is to defend the bridgehead for as long as possible in order to
allow the most men to get away. We've done well so far - more than I'd ever
hoped - but we mustn't throw in the towel now.'

'I understand,' said Alexander. 'How long should I
hold the perimeter? I've toured First Division's sector and the men are keen
and reasonably well stocked, but they won't be able to hold out for long.
Thankfully, the Hun seems only to be attacking in any kind of strength from the
east, but that won't last.'

'That's for you to judge, Alex. Only you can make that
call now.'

Near by, several bombs exploded, shaking the palace.
From the drawing room, Gort saw high plumes of sand thrust into the air. Alexander
barely flinched.

'Good luck,' said Gort, holding out his hand. 'May God
be with you and I pray you may return safely to Britain.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Alexander. 'I'll do my best.'

Dawn, Saturday, 1 June. Tanner had done no more than
catnap and at three a.m. had woken for good. He helped himself to some
breakfast in the farmhouse kitchen, then roused the rest of the slumbering men
and told them to get some food inside them. Half an hour later, with the first
hint of dawn streaking the horizon to their left, he walked up and down their
line, making sure the men were awake, alert and at their posts. Enemy troops
had been spotted moving into position the previous evening and long-range
artillery had opened fire soon after. Desultory shellfire had continued ever
since, screaming over their heads towards the coast.

Now he accompanied Lieutenant Peploe to the attic
where McAllister and Chambers were waiting beside their Brens. Ahead, the
fields beyond the canal were shrouded in mist. A row of poplars half a mile to
the south rose spectrally above it against the pink and pale orange
early-morning sky.

'Another beautiful day,' said Peploe.

'Those bastards are out there, though,' said Tanner.
'If they've got any bloody sense they'll attack now, while they've got some
cover. This'll burn off soon enough.'

But, apart from continued artillery fire, the enemy
did not attack and when, at around eight o'clock, the mist lifted, they saw, to
their amazement, large numbers of German infantry standing several hundred yards
away in the waterlogged fields of young corn.

'Bloody hell,' said Tanner, bringing his binoculars to
his eyes. 'They're digging in. They've got spades, not rifles. Mac, Punter,
five hundred yards - get firing!'

Both Brens opened, spewing bursts of bullets. To begin
with, they fell short, cutting into the corn in front of the startled enemy,
but both men adjusted them and Tanner watched as German troops were mown down.
Men fell to the ground, some hit, others desperate to find cover in the corn,
but Tanner kept the two machine-guns firing until he could see no further
movement.

Cordite from the Brens filled the attic, and several
empty magazines now lay on the bare wooden floor. Tanner delved into his
haversack, took out his Aldis scope and fixed it to his rifle.

'I can see Germans moving into those cottages six
hundred yards in front of us,' said Peploe, his binoculars held to his eyes. He
turned to Tanner. 'Time for some sniping?'

'Absolutely, sir.' Tanner was already poking the
barrel of his rifle through a hole in the roof. He could see two small guns
being brought up, infantry scampering behind them, most with rifles but others
with machine-guns. He aimed at one of the gunners, pulled back the bolt, made
adjustment for the range and squeezed the trigger. The man fell back, and the
others threw themselves onto the ground. Tanner pulled back the bolt again, saw
a machine-gunner run forward, and pulled the trigger again. He, too, stumbled
to the ground. 'Mac,' he said, 'wait for my word but get a bead on the approach
to that cottage ahead, all right? I reckon it's six hundred yards, but the
moment I give the word, open fire.'

'Yes, Sarge.'

Tanner peered through his sight, waiting for the enemy
soldiers to get up and move again. Sure enough, before long anxious helmeted
heads lifted and then, when no sniper's bullet arrived, the men got to their
feet.

'Fire!' said Tanner, and McAllister sent out another
withering burst. More enemy troops tumbled.

For the next two hours, Tanner sniped while the Brens
and the Lewis gun in the barn kept up their harassing fire. Despite their best
efforts, however, it was clear that enemy troops had reached and occupied the
half-dozen cottages and buildings that dotted the open fields in front of them.
The attackers were using the elevated camber of the roads as cover, and
although from the attic the Rangers could see glimpses of half-hidden moving
enemy troops, their fire could only slow their progress, not prevent it
entirely. By mid-morning enemy guns were in place all along the
Hondschoote-Bergues road, which ran parallel to the canal some two miles in
front of them. Shells began to hurtle over and gradually found their range.
Mortars were also in action, and shortly after eleven, several hit the road on
the other side of the canal. Then a flurry landed in and around their
positions.

'We're not going to be able to stay up here much
longer, sir,' said Tanner. 'One shell in the right place and we'll be lying
under a pile of rubble.'

'What do you suggest?'

'I'm not sure. This and the barn are the only place
where we can really see the enemy, but the buildings stand out like a sore
thumb. If only those damned vehicles weren't in front of us we might have a
better line of fire.'

No sooner had he said this than two large shells
screamed over in quick succession and hit the barn. Someone yelled, and then
there was a grinding crack of breaking timbers, tiles and brick.

'Oh, Christ,' said Peploe, his face ashen. He stared
at Tanner, then sped down the stairs. Tanner ran to the rear window and saw
that half of the barn had collapsed.
Jesus,
he
thought,
how many were in there? Half a dozen?

McAllister and Chambers were firing again, the burst
of bullets deafening in the narrow confines of the attic. Suddenly McAllister's
Bren stopped and he cursed. 'Sarge, I think the firing pin's melted. Bastard
won't fire anymore.'

'Go and get another. How are we doing for ammo?'

'Running quite low, Sarge,' said Chambers.

'Mac, get another MG and send someone up here with
more mags.'

'Sarge,' said McAllister, hurrying downstairs.

Tanner now stood at the embrasure in the roof once
more and, raising his rifle, saw several German artillerymen running down the
road from the cottage towards the canal, towing a small anti-tank gun. Quickly,
he drew back the bolt, adjusted his aim and fired, hitting the first man clean
in the chest. The other three ducked, but he hit them, too, with his next four
shots, then saw one man, evidently wounded in the leg, hobbling off the road.
He aimed again, fired, and saw him trip over the edge of the road and into the
ditch. Already, though, another antitank gun was being run off the road and
into the cover of some poplars.

'Did you see that, Punter?' called fanner. 'Get some
fire over there - quickly!'

Chambers gave out a burst but not before the antitank
gun, some three hundred yards away, had opened. Tanner saw the flash of the
muzzle and a split-second later a shell shot past one end of the house.

'Quick, Punter, time to go!' said Tanner, and then a
second shell burst through the roof to hit the central beam. It bounced off and
landed on the floor. 'It's an anti-tank incendiary!' yelled Tanner, almost
pushing Chambers down the stairs. 'Out! Out!' he shouted, to Hepworth and
Ellis, who were still manning a Bren on the first floor. Together they raced
down the stairs as two more shells hit the roof. Hurrying to the back of the
building they saw Peploe running from the barn with Sykes. Half of the building
still stood, including part of the first floor. A ladder had already been leaned
up against it and Tanner saw Corporal Cooper climbing it with another Bren.

'Four dead from Cooper's section and another two badly
wounded,' said Peploe.

'I'm sorry,' said Tanner, 'and now the attic's been
hit.' He looked up and saw smoke wisping from the damaged roof, but there had
been no blast.

'Hold on,' he said, ran back inside the house, up the
stairs and cautiously to the attic. Three shells were smouldering on the floor,
apparently spent, so he ran across to the bucket, poured water over them liberally,
then dashed back downstairs again. 'I think we might be all right up there,' he
said, as he rejoined Peploe at the back of the house, 'but the bastards have
got guns on it now, so the moment we start using it again we'll be in trouble.'

Another mortar crashed behind them, hitting one of the
sheds, and causing them to dive to the ground.

'The problem is that we can't see them clearly
enough,' said Tanner, as they got to their feet again. 'If only we could get
across to the other side of the canal we could use that cottage fifty yards up
the road and get stuck into them from there.'

'There's that dinghy, Sarge,' said Sykes, 'by the woodpile
the other side of the farmhouse.'

'Don't be mad,' said Peploe. 'You can't use that.'

'Why not, sir?' said Tanner. 'We can take a couple of Brens
and the Boys. If we get a move on we can occupy that cottage before Jerry does,
let rip, then come back again. It might just delay him a bit more.'

'I'm not sure - it seems horribly risky to me.'

'No more so than staying here,' he said, gesturing to
the remains of the barn.

'I'll rig up something for Jerry to remember us by in
the house as well, sir.' Sykes grinned. 'Maybe put something interesting in
those vehicles too. Don't know why I didn't think of it before.'

'I suppose there's something to be said for that,'
agreed Peploe.

'Good,' said Tanner, taking that as his cue. He turned
to Hepworth. 'You can come too, Hep.'

'Why do you always pick on me, Sarge?' said Hepworth.

'I'm doing you a favour, Hep. It's better to be doing
something than sitting here getting stonked.'

Having picked up the Boys anti-tank rifle, a Bren and
some spare magazines, they found the dinghy, ran to the front of the farmhouse
and lowered it into the water. They rowed the short distance across, scrambled
onto the far bank, secured the boat and hurried, crouching, along the road to
the cottage. It was only a one-storey building, but had a small, neat garden
and a hedge that ran round the back, protecting it from the fields beyond, and
a willow tree in the far corner.

Intermittent shells and mortars continued to rain on
their positions along the canal, but now, from the direction of the destroyed
bridge, there came a sudden escalation of small-arms fire from both sides.

'Sounds like Jerry's making a play for the bridge,'
said Tanner, as they crept to the back of the cottage. 'Stan, get to work on
the cottage, will you? We don't want any Germans using it. Hep, come with me.'

They ran, in a crouch, across the lawn to the far
corner beside the willow and, lying on the ground, Tanner peered between the
hedge and the tree. He could see the road from L'Avenir leading to the bridge
but a track went to a farmhouse by the bridge. German troops were scurrying
forward, either side of the road and track, using it as cover. At the end of
the track, perhaps two hundred yards away, there was a small cottage and a
barn. From where he was, Tanner could just see a mortar team and another
anti-tank gun behind it.