Tramp in Armour (14 page)

'You were right about this rat, then.' Penn levelled his
machine-pistol at Pierre's stomach.

'Strange behaviour for a Belgian patriot,' said Barnes. 'Very
strange behaviour. He sees a German soldier come over the top
and instead of calling me he runs up to him.'

Penn held the butt of the pistol under his arm, one hand still
round the trigger guard while he used the other to undo the top
button of his German greatcoat.

'This thing chokes me. As you were saying - I thought he'd never react. So we've trapped ourselves a dirty little
spy.'

'He didn't react at once because he thought a whole infantry
platoon would be coming over the ridge behind you. My
appearance on the scene jolted him into action. You made
several mistakes, Pierre.'

'What mistakes? I do not make mistakes.' Pierre drew himself up, a sneer on his young face, making no
attempt to deny the charges. He even ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it.

'That, for one thing - you've an obsession with your personal appearance. After we'd shot up that truck yesterday you arrived on the scene with your hair neatly combed - and you'd just been sprawling in a ditch. No normal lad of seventeen would react like that. But a trained soldier who was fantastically conceited about his good looks might do that automatically - providing he was very tough and a bit of a bastard into the bargain. It was your lot we shot up, remember.'

Pierre's eyes blazed and he stood very erect. 'It was not possible to take any action at the time.'

'No, you were biding your time till you could hand over a Matilda tank intact for inspection by your own people. And
another thing - your reaction to that cemetery round the
wrecked truck wasn't right either, not for your supposed age.'

'The German soldier is not trained to hide under bridges
from the enemy.'

Penn took a step forward but Barnes restrained him with a
look, his voice still mild when he spoke again.

'Let him spit away - he's going to be shot in a minute unless
he gives us some information.'

For the first time Barnes thought he detected a flicker of
fear in the staring blue eyes, eyes which looked quickly over
Penn's shoulder and then back at Barnes. He tried to speak
indignantly but bis voice couldn't quite manage it.

'That would be murder, Barnes.'

'You'll address me as Sergeant, and I would remind you
that since you are not wearing uniform this puts you into the
category of a spy who can be shot out of hand. What is your
unit, Pierre?'

'I don't have to answer your questions.'

'No, that's right, you don't. You can be shot instead.'

'I might be prepared to answer certain questions.'

'That's better. How old are you?'

'Twenty.'

'And still with fluff on his cheeks.' Barnes looked at Penn. 'Maybe they wean them late in Germany.'

Pierre clenched his hands and stood rigidly, his feet close together, a pink spot on either cheek.

'What's your real name, Pierre?'

'Gerhard Seft. Sergeant Gerhard Seft.'

'And your unit?'

Silence. Seft's mouth was a tight line and he looked quickly
over Penn's shoulder again.

'You haven't seen any real war, then?' Barnes goaded him.

Seft's voice changed. He stiffened his shoulders and almost
barked his reply as he glared at Barnes.

'I served with the Wehrmacht in the Polish campaign. I was at Warsaw. We cut the Poles to pieces, smashed them - and I
was there!'

'Well, you really know the position of a soldier caught in civilian clothes, then.'

The German's eyes flickered and he changed the subject
quickly. 'How did Corporal Penn get away from the bridge
without me seeing him?'

'He slipped off up the river bed while Reynolds was handing
over the guard to you.' Barnes waited for a reaction but the German said nothing, gazing back blankly as though waiting
for something. 'Seft, why did they push you out on a limb -send you in civilian clothes behind enemy lines? I want to
know. Why?'

'Because I speak perfect English and French. My mother
was French.'

Had he put that last bit in to arouse sympathy, to remind
his captors that he, too, was human? Barnes suspected as much;
his hostility towards Seft grew. His voice was harsher now.

'Where does this road lead to?'

'Towards Arras - I told you.'

'You told me a lot of bloody lies, my lad. And while we're
on the subject where have we come from?'
'From Fontaine, of course.'

Seft's manner was growing more confident again, a trace of the arrogance returning as he realized that he wasn't going to be shot out of hand. 'From Fontaine?' queried Barnes. 'Try that one again, too.'

'But he's right there,' protested Penn in surprise.

'Is he? Did anyone in the village except Seft tell you that it
was Fontaine? I thought not. The road we were supposed to
have taken from Fontaine runs south-west on the map, but this
road ran due south for miles before it turned south-west. And we should have passed through at least a dozen villages - in
stead we came across four towns and not a single village any
where. Seft's game was to lead us deeper into German-held
territory until he got the chance to hand over Bert intact - and
that would have been a feather in his cap. The German High Command would love to have one undamaged tank so they
know exactly what they're up against. He must have been
doing his nut when Reynolds held a revolver on him while a
whole Panzer division rolled by overhead. And that, Seft, was
a further mistake. You were just a little too anxious to come
out from cover when your lot arrived. Now, what is the name
of the village you called Fontaine?'

He stood looking up at the German, his eyes half-closed.
This was his first encounter with a fanatical young Nazi and
he found the attitude of sneering arrogance an interesting re
action under the circumstances. It neither startled nor im
pressed Barnes, he simply thought that it amounted to sheer bloody stupidity. Seft spoke loudly, his voice clipped.

'I am not permitted to reveal information which may be of
assistance to the enemy. You are my enemy. Heil Hitler!'

Penn hit him across the side of the face, hit him hard
with the back of his hand and the blow left a red weal across
the German's pink flesh. He took a step back as Penn snapped at him.

'You've been told once, Seft, and you won't be told again.
When you address Sergeant Barnes you address him as Sergeant. Next time you forget, you'll be minus a few teeth.'

Seft looked carefully at Penn as though memorizing his
face. Then he deliberately rotated his cheeks and with
an expression of supreme contempt spat on the ground. Again, Barnes' look restrained Penn.

'Don't waste your strength on the lad. He's hardly out of his diapers.'

Whether he understood the word or not the insult galvanized Seft. He stood very erect, his chin thrust forward, his voice rasping like a drill sergeant's as he stepped forward.

'The German Army will be here very shortly. You are
standing in German-occupied territory and you are now my
prisoners-of-war. Sergeant Barnes, surrender your pistol.'

Taking two more steps forward, his face flushed with uncontrollable fury, he reached out to grab at Barnes' hand. The effrontery, the blind insanity of the manoeuvre, momentarily stunned Penn but Barnes reacted as though he had been expecting just such an attempt. Stepping backwards,.he brought up the revolver from his side and swung it in a vicious arc. The barrel smashed against Seft's left temple and the blow was so powerful that the revolver almost leapt out of his hand. He took another step sideways as the German fell forward and slumped to the ground, his arms stretched out beyond his head, his
fair
hair all over the place. Barnes bent forward, felt the neck artery, and then looked up at Penn.

'The fool's dead. Just as well - we can't afford to be
lumbered with prisoners at this stage.'

'He must have been stark raving bonkers.'

'He's a fanatic who thought he could get away with anything, but not completely bonkers. Take a look over your shoulder. I think Seft must have spotted them earlier than I did.'

A long way off to the south, where the road was now clearly
visible in the early morning sunlight, Penn saw a thin trail of toy-like vehicles moving up the road towards them. The rear
of the column was hidden behind a rise in the ground but more
and more vehicles were appearing as the column advanced steadily forward. Barnes spoke grimly.

'I'll check with my glasses but that's another Panzer column
on .the way, bet your life on it. So that route's barred. And if
we head back to so-called Fontaine we'll run into the other
lot.'

'What the hell are we going to do? We'll never get away
with it a second time.'

'Get out of here with Bert as fast as we can by the only route still open to us.'

FOUR

Friday, May 24th

At 4.30 AM they were fleeing for their lives. Moving at five
miles an hour lie tank emerged from under the bridge and
drove along the river bed between the high bramble-covered banks like a monster metal barge sailing downstream. Stand
ing up in the turret, Barnes was enormously relieved to find
that he couldn't see over the tops of the banks which were two
or three feet above his head, so that meant the enemy couldn't see them either. As they left the bridge behind he looked back
to make sure that the tracks weren't leaving traces of their
passage, but apart from a muddying of the water there were no traces to give them away. Ahead, the river ran almost straight for about a hundred yards and then it disappeared
round a bend. They had to reach that bend and get round it
before the advance elements of the Panzer column reached the
bridge. He rated the chances of success a good deal less than
fifty-fifty, but it was their only hope of survival.

About halfway from the bridge to the bend a line of trees
covered the banks on both sides, their branches spanning the
river to form a tunnel of foliage which roofed in the water
below, and it was so dark inside the tunnel that he couldn't see
the river clearly. If it suddenly went deeper, they'd be finished
anyway. Behind him the fording flap was closed down over the
rear air outlets so now Bert was amphibious - amphibious,
that was, in up to three foot six of water. He looked down at the grisly load roped on the back of the tank and hoped that they hadn't left their departure too late.

Their departure from the bridge had been held up by the necessity of disposing of the two bodies - the sentry's and Seft's - and since he was determined to leave nothing near the bridge which might arouse suspicion and provoke a search, he
decided that the only safe thing to do was to bring the bodies with them. The bodies were now lying, on the engine covers at the rear of the hull, attached to the turret by separate ropes.