Колин Форбс - Tramp in Armour

Barnes looked up at the lad, his voice polite but firm.

‘Pierre, would you mind going outside and staying with Trooper Reynolds for a few minutes?’

He saw Pierre’s face drop and Penn frowned. When the lad had gone out and shut the door Penn protested.

‘I wish you hadn’t done that – we may need him. You don’t know the position here.’

‘And I won’t until you tell me.’ Barnes dropped the blanket and laid the machine-pistol on its side.

‘What did you want that for?’ asked Penn.

‘I’d no idea what was happening when I woke up – a couple of Jerries might have walked through that door. Now, what’s the position?’

Penn paused and then burst out with it. ‘We’re a helluva long way behind the German lines. Maybe twenty miles or more.’

‘We can’t be…’

‘The Germans have broken through along the whole front. They’ve torn a tremendous gap in the lines and it’s a bloody great mess – just how great it’s hard to tell because there are so many rumours…’

‘It could be a rumour that they’ve broken through, then.’

‘No chance of that – I heard this morning that the Panzers have reached Arras. The Luftwaffe has the whole show to itself – our lot and the French Air Force were shot out of the sky in the first few days. The Germans have hundreds of tanks and thousands of planes. You’ve got to face it – we’re miles and miles behind the German lines.’

‘Today is Thursday, then?’

‘Yes, Thursday, May the twenty-third.’

‘And where exactly are we?’

‘Just outside a place called Fontaine. We’re fairly close to the French frontier.’

‘What?’

For the second time in five minutes Barnes was staggered, but this time he simply stared at bis corporal grimly as he climbed to his feet. He felt his legs giving way at once, but sheer will-power stiffened the nagging muscles. Leaning a hand against the nearby wall, feeling the sweat trickling down his back with the effort of staying upright, he smiled wintrily.

‘Penn, if I haven’t gone potty I seem to recall that when the ammo train went up we were a good forty miles from the French frontier.’

Penn’s moustache quivered and then his sense of humour got the upper hand and he spoke lightly.

‘Sergeant Barnes, you have been away from this wonderful world of ours for four days – in other words you’ve been out cold, so it was up to me to see you home safe and sound, if you can call this home, although personally I’ve known better ones. Supposing you just let me tell you what’s happened and then you’ll feel a lot happier. You won’t,’ he added with a grin, ‘but you know I always phrase things in the most tactful way.’

‘The floor is yours.’

‘When the train blew up we were attacked by a Messerschmitt and you collected one in the shoulder. You managed to smash your head good and hard at the same time. On the way down you did get the lid shut and that’s why I’m talking to you now -I heard half a beltful of bullets rattling on the turret before Jerry pushed off. When I checked the state of your health you were dead to the world and bleeding like a stuck pig, but I managed to get a dressing on.’ He took a deep exaggerated breath to illustrate the drama of it all. ‘For the next few hours, till well after dark, we were dodging Jerries. It was a sheer fluke that we got away with it – mostly by driving across open country. Eventually, hours later, we ended up here and here we’ve been ever since.’

‘You drove through the night?’

‘Yes, there was a moon which helped, considering we daren’t use the headlights. When we got here I hadn’t the slightest idea where we were. And before you blow my head off about that, you can’t read a map at night when you’re travelling across country, keeping an eye open for Jerry, and popping down to see whether your tank commander is still in the land of the living. At least,’ he ended with a grin, ‘I can’t.’

‘You did damn well, Penn. Thanks. What made you stay in this place?’

‘I found a Belgian doctor who was willing to look after you without letting anyone know we were here. These buildings are outside Fontaine and the village still don’t know about us. The doctor’s a nice old boy called Lepin and the last time he called he said it was just a matter of changing your dressing and waiting till you came round. I doubt if he’ll be back again – he could be shot by the Germans for treating you. The main thing is we haven’t been spotted yet…’

‘Pierre has spotted us.’

‘I’ll come to him in a minute. How are you doing?’

While they had been talking Barnes was testing himself, walking slowly round the floor and keeping close to the wall as he forced his reluctant legs forward. The wound was thumping him good and proper how but the dizziness was receding.

‘Fine,’ he said quickly. ‘Go on.’

‘Lepin was a godsend. You probably don’t remember it -and that’s your good luck – but while you were drugged he took out the bullet. He said you’d need at least ten days’ rest -that’s a week starting from yesterday.’

‘Arras – where did you get that news about Arras?’

‘It came through on the radio bulletin. I go into Fontaine once a day to listen in. Lepin’s house backs on to a field and he leaves the wireless set in a shed for me.’

‘The French radio may not be reliable.’

‘I’m talking about the BBC.’

- A chill ran down Barnes’ spine. Arras was halfway to the sea. He still found it difficult to grasp the extent of the catastrophe and he still held on to the hope that the reports were wildly exaggerated.

‘We must have some idea of how far behind the German lines we are,’ he said sharply.

‘I’ve no idea at all.’

Barnes paused to hold himself up against the wall. ‘Look, Penn, there must be a front line somewhere. Don’t the radio bulletins give any indication at all?’

‘Sergeant, you still haven’t grasped it. The French to the south of Etreux took an awful bashing. The whole weight of the German armour was thrown against them from what I can make out, and there isn’t a front line down here any more. Everything’s all over the place. Jerry has torn a bloody great gap in the line and it’s getting bigger every day. And the BEF is a long way west of Brussels now.’

‘There are no Germans in Fontaine?’

‘Not up to this morning. A column of tanks went through two days ago but that’s the way they seem to be operating -they didn’t leave a single soldier behind.’

Barnes found that interesting. He thought about it while he picked up his clothes and started dressing with difficulty. At least he was still wearing his battledress trousers so he wouldn’t have to struggle with them. Then he resumed his cross-examination.

‘The tank’s next door, you said. In what condition?’

‘Engines are in full working order. The Besa’s OK. So is the two-pounder. The Wireless is still US but the intercom’s OK. We can talk to each other but we’re cut off from the outside world. Reynolds and I have spent most of our time on maintenance while you were playing Rip Van Winkle.’

‘One thing bothers me, Penn. This lad, Pierre. How does he come into the picture?’

‘He’s helped us enormously. He saw us coming into this place when we first arrived and he’s been around ever since.

He knew we were here so I thought the best thing was to make friends with him – and the fact that he speaks English as well as his native French is a godsend…’

‘He’s Belgian?’

‘Yes, his parents come from the north and he’s lost touch with them. He was visiting an uncle in Fontaine when the war started.’

Barnes asked a lot more questions while he finished dressing and among other things he learnt that it was now two o’clock in the afternoon. At the end of the conversation he returned to the subject of Pierre.