Hammond Innes - Attack Alarm

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. He saw the gun and braked.

‘Get that rifle,’ I told Micky. ‘I’ll cover him from here. As soon as the lorry stops, jump out and cover him from the roadway.’

He nodded. ‘Orl right,’ he said, and picked up the rifle. An instant later the lorry jerked to a stop. He was over the side before the wheels had stopped moving. ‘Put your hands up,’ I told the driver. ‘Now get down.’ There was no fight in him. He climbed down into the roadway, his hands above his head. He was a big, thick-set man and his bewilderment and fear were almost comical. I suppose he thought he was going to die. I got down from the back of the lorry and took his revolver from its holster. Turn round,’ I ordered. As soon as he had done so I passed the revolver to Micky, barrel foremost. ‘Do you know how to knock a man out without killing him?’ I asked in a whisper.

‘You just watch me,’ he said.

He spat on his right hand and a second later he hit the man. The thud of it seemed to go right through me. Yet I saw him crumple up on the ground with a complete sense of detachment.

We pulled him to the side of the road and bound him with the rope that had been used for us. I stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth and put a length of rope round his head to keep the gag in. Then we got the other two bodies out of the lorry. Both of them were dead — the bullet I had fired at Ferret had cracked the man’s skull. We dragged them into the wood that bordered the road and hid them in some rhododendron bushes.

Then we went back to.the lorry and drove on. I had driven fast on my way out to Cold Harbour, but on the return journey I pushed the Bedford to the limit of its speed. We had all too little time to spare. As we swept by the Roebuck and down the long hill with the bend on which we were to have been murdered, I saw that it was past three. And though I drove as fast as I dared, we did not run into Thorby village until twenty past.

‘I’m going into the camp by the way I came out,’ I told Micky. ‘Are you still deserting or are you coming in with me?’

‘I weren’t deserting,’ he shouted angrily. ‘I were just transferring. You know that.’

‘Well, are you still going to transfer yourself, or are you staying with me?’

‘I never deserted a pal yet.’

‘You mean, you’re returning to camp with me?’

‘I suppose so. But why d’you have to make it more difficult for us by going back the same way? Anyone would think it was a bloody obstacle race. Why not drive up to the main gate and ask to see old man Winton?’

‘Because time is precious,’ I said. And as I spoke we passed the turning that led to the main gates of the aerodrome. ‘Besides,’ I added, slowing down, ‘Winton probably wouldn’t believe me. We’ve got to get hold of those lorries before we tackle Winton.’ I stopped the lorry. ‘Come on, this is where we came out.’

We were half way down the hill, and as soon as we had climbed out I released the brake and let the lorry run. That’ll distract their attention,’ I said, and led the way through the barbed-wire fence and into the wood that lay directly below our gun site.

The crash of the lorry as it hit the bend seemed surprisingly loud. Automatically we halted, listening. The trees whispered amongst themselves, stirred by a faint breeze. There was no other sound. We crossed the trench where we had stumbled into each other only just over three hours ago. A ghostly pallor filtered through into the wood so that everywhere was shadow. We went stealthily, flitting from tree to tree. Reason told me that it was all right. A sentry would not leave the path without cause and, if he were anywhere near, his attention would be drawn towards the lorry. But reason could not still the flutter of my nerves. So much was at stake. We had to get back to the site without being caught. To be frustrated at the last moment by the obtuseness of a Guards’ corporal would be bitter in the extreme. And I knew that the wood was the easiest part. Beyond was the slope up to the barbed wire. It was bare of all cover and would be lit by the moon. Finally there was the barbed wire itself.

We reached the path, a broad white swathe in the moonlight, and crossed it without mishap. At last the trees thinned and their leafy boughs stood out against the white of the hillside. We pushed through the low-hanging fringe of the trees and paused, gazing up at that pale grassy slope. There was the dannert wire, a dark streak against the grass, and along it a figure moved slowly. At every step the man’s bayonet caught the moon and glinted white.

‘Cor!’ said Micky. This ain’t ‘alf going to be a job.’

I nodded. ‘I’m afraid the odds are against us,’ I said. ‘We’d better split up.’

‘O.K., mate. But what do I do if I get through and you don’t?’

‘Go to Gun Ops. and get in touch with anyone in authority. Tell them what you’ve heard and seen. And if a sentry challenges you, don’t try and get away. Good luck!’ I said. ‘If we both get through we’ll meet in the hut.’

‘See you in the ‘ut, then.’

‘I hope so,’ I replied. And we parted company, advancing into the open and moving obliquely up the slope. The sentry was going away from us along the wire. He was the only one visible. There might be another where the wire ran into some trees to the south of our hut, but I had to risk that. Crouching low, I moved quickly up the slope, my eyes on the sentry. Once he stopped and stood for a moment gazing down into the valley. I flattened myself into the grass. The moon seemed unnaturally bright. I felt he must see me. But at length he resumed his pacing northwards along the wire.

I was now less than a hundred yards from the wire. I could just see the barbs on it. I began to worm my way forward on my stomach. My whole instinct was to make a wild dash for it. Time was so precious. But I knew that I should lose far more if I were caught. So I continued to crawl forward, laboriously slow though it seemed. I was lost among a forest of grass tussocks. I could no longer see the sentry without craning my head up and I could see no sign of Micky.

At last I was in view of the whole length of the wire from the trees on my left to a dip away to the north. The sentry was returning along his beat. I lay low, burying my face in the grass, hoping that my head would pass for a shadow. The jingle of his equipment came nearer and nearer, until I felt he must stumble right over me. I longed to look up and see whether he was looking at me. Suddenly I knew he was past me. The rattle of his bayonet against the rifle boss gradually receded. Then it stopped abruptly.

I couldn’t resist the temptation. Cautiously I raised my head. He was standing stock still about thirty yards along the wire to my left. The moon was behind him so that he was a dark silhouette, reminiscent of countless memorial statues to men who had died in the war to end war. It seemed an age that he stood there motionless, gazing down the slope in front of him. Somewhere on that slope Micky must be lying, waiting, as I was lying, waiting.

God knows how long he stood there. I didn’t dare make the slight movement necessary to look at my wrist watch. The smell of the dried grass reminded me of the lazy peace of summer under an oak tree or the still quiet of the Sussex downs. The familiar scent brought an ache of longing to my heart for the days that were gone. At last he moved on, but only to stop a few yards farther on to gaze again down the moonlit slope. My heart began to thud against my ribs. Surely he must have seen Micky. His bayonet caught the moon and the steel of it shone white.

I thought he never would move on. Time was passing, and time was precious. Already I thought I could sense a slight lightening of the sky that was not due to the moon. Dawn would soon be here.