Колин Форбс - Tramp in Armour

He only had to wait a few minutes before Penn was fast asleep, dead to the world, lying on his left side to take the weight off his wound. He gave Reynolds his orders.

‘You go down as well. I’ll do two and a half hours and then wake you at one-thirty. After I’ve gone down you’re to wake me at four – we must be away very early tomorrow. While you’re on guard it’s just a matter of keeping a sharp eye along the road in both directions. Down you go.’

A few minutes later and with some trepidation he watched Jacques drive away towards Beaucaire in his four-seater green Renault, still unable to rid himself of the feeling that this was the fly in the ointment. Physically, he was having an awful time keeping on his feet and he walked up and down the moonlit road to take his mind off his gently throbbing wound, realizing now that it would have probably been wiser to change the dressing, but his brain went on racing round. They’d have to head north for the Boulogne-Calais area, not so far from where Jacques came from. It would mean the devil of a right-hand sweep, west and then north, and he doubted whether they’d ever make it, but at least on the way they might meet some really worthwhile objective. The search for some massive objective against which they could deal the Germans a hammer-blow was now looming larger in Barnes’ mind than finding a way back to the Allied lines. The position was becoming terribly serious, the news bulletin proved that. It was a warm muggy night and this-didn’t help to keep him on the alert. He’d be glad when morning came, and then they could get on with it. As he paced up and down Barnes had a strong feeling that this was the last haven of peace they would find, that from tomorrow they would be in the thick of it all the way.

Shortly after midnight the lights in the farmhouse went out and he heard a window open and then close. It was probably Mandel listening to him pacing up and down. In the distance he could still hear the mutter of those guns, but just before it was time to wake Reynolds the guns stopped, and this disturbed Barnes greatly as though it were an omen of disaster. He woke up Reynolds and settled down to sleep under the stars, which seemed far bigger than usual. An hour later he was still awake, his mind twitching with anxiety, then without knowing it he fell asleep. The emergency he had feared came just after dawn.

The tank emerged from the outhouse into the eerie light of the false dawn. It seemed to kick up the devil of a row as it moved slowly down the stony track, following the beams of the headlights which made the pale grey gloom even weirder. Across the fields coils of mist floated above the ground and a curtain of vapour fogged the beams.,

They had risen at four like ghosts in a half-world, bleary-eyed, thick-tongued, thirsty, hardly able to carry their bedrolls along the stony track, but they had the world to themselves, a world which was dark and chilly. They had brewed-up, drunk their tea and, at Barnes’ insistence, had a shave. After the tea and the shave they had begun to revive sufficiently to eat some of the remaining bully beef and a packet of biscuits which Reynolds had quietly kept for an emergency. There was general agreement that the morning qualified. The horizon was a faint line against a bleak glow when they drove out of the building and along the track. Barnes already realized that Penn had not benefited from his night’s rest to anything like the extent he had hoped and the corporal’s peevishness had confirmed this.

‘What about the Mandels?’ he had asked. ‘Are you running off and leaving them without a word of thanks?’

‘Of course not. We’ll park Bert by the road and then I’ll pop back to see them.’

As they moved down the track he saw that lights had appeared in the upper windows of the farmhouse. Mandel must have heard them coming. It seemed ungrateful not to warn him the night before of their plans for a very early start but Jacques had been there until they had left the farmhouse. Rubbing his arm to get the chill out of his bones Barnes looked both ways along the road and saw nothing. It would be an enormous relief when they had left the Mandels in peace. Within ten minutes they would be on their way towards Abbeville. He had chosen that route because it was the only one they had heard to be clear of traffic. They were very close to the farmhouse when he stiffened, swore, and gave the order.

‘Halt! Lights off!’

From the direction of Beaucaire tiny headlights glowed in the distance, just one pair. They’d have to let the vehicle go past without seeing them. He issued more orders and the tank moved across the field until it was completely hidden by the dim bulk of the haystack, when he ordered a halt. Standing in the turret behind the stack he saw that the top was at least six feet above his head and when he leant far out from the rim his fingers touched the edges of projecting hay. Jumping down, he checked the front and rear: there was at least four feet of stack which concealed the tank from the road at either end. It was just a question of letting this early bird drive past before he went to see Mandel. He might even be able to buy some food off the farmer.

Going down on one knee behind the rear track he waited, feeling the early morning dew soak through his trousers, gripping the revolver in his right hand. His brain was becoming very alert now as he watched the headlights growing larger, a sense of alarm beginning to sting his nerves: this could be trouble, but at least there was only one car. Pull yourself together, Barnes – one car could contain four Germans armed with machine-pistols. Climbing up on the hull he told Penn to hand him up a machine-pistol, then he assumed his position behind the track. The car was very close now, moving at a tremendous speed, probably well over sixty. Tension built up inside him like the crackle of electricity. Thank God he had got them up early. With a scream of brakes the car turned off the road, headlights sweeping over the rear of the tank, then it stopped.

Had they seen the tank? The headlights had continued in their ninety-degree turn without a quiver, but a strong-willed driver might manage that. The slam of the car door. Footsteps. A solitary figure reached the front door and hammered on it like a German.drill-sergeant demanding entry. Barnes lifted the gun as the front door opened, shedding a pool of light into the yard and then closing again. Could it be Jacques? The parked car looked like a Renault although in this weird light it was difficult to tell. He wasn’t at all sure that there weren’t other people inside the darkened car. He’d better check this.

He ran, racing forward until he reached the side of the house out of sight of the car, creeping along the wall to a window which showed light behind curtains. He couldn’t see through the material but faintly he heard voices, one of them excited. This voice was doing most of the talking. Cautiously he crept towards the front of the house and as he reached the corner he heard the front, door open. Footsteps came into the yard. He froze.

‘Sergeant Barnes, it’s only Jacques. He’s brought some news, some alarming news. Barnes!’

‘Here, Mandel.’

He stepped out into the courtyard, lowering his machine-pistol, and when Mandel saw it he must have recognized the gun since he looked at it in surprise but without comment. Beside him stood Jacques, his chin unshaven and his collar open, while Etienne waited in the floodlit doorway. Mandel hurried forward, his shirt only half-tucked inside his trousers, speaking quickly.

‘There is great trouble. From his bedroom in Fontenoy Jacques can see across the fields to Beaucaire – or rather to the road here from Beaucaire – and he heard something early this morning. Then he saw a lot of lights so he walked, across the fields and hid behind a hedge close to these lights. A large German column has reached Beaucaire, has come round it to the south, you understand, and camped on this side of the town…’