The '44 Vintage

'What d'you mean—the fourth arch?' Audley turned back to him.

'There used to be four arches'—De Courcy pointed—'two large ones, which you can see . . . and a small arch on each side. The smaller arches were—how do you say?—flood arches for when the river is high, between February and March every year, and sometimes in the late spring.'

BANG-tap. The heavy sledge hammer rebounded off the wall again. Sergeant Purvis stepped back from the wall, spat on each palm in turn like a navvy, and wiped his brow with his arm.

Audley stared at the bridge. 'You mean—they've filled in the little arch, someone has?'

Butler looked at the doctor suddenly. 'Didn't you say they repaired the bridge in 1940, sir—when they Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

were working on the chateau?'

'Christ! Of course they did!' Audley hammered the ground with his fist. “That's what they must have been doing—shoring up the little arch with a wall on each side, probably to strengthen the abutments.

The way the river curves, that's the side that must take the full force of the floods—' he stopped suddenly.

'So what?' said Winston.

Audley looked at him. 'So—there's a space under the bridge between the two walls, man! And no one's ever going to knock down those walls just for fun—they're possibly what's supposed to be holding the bridge up. Nobody knocks down repair work—'

BANG-tap-BANG-tap.

'Nobody . . .' Winston twisted towards the bridge again. 'Jee-sus, Lieutenant—you're damn right—'

Now Butler knew what to look for he could see the line of the original arch in the wall, and once he could see it the newer stonework which filled it became obvious, for all that it had been carefully matched with the older work.

'Give me the rifle, Doc,' growled Winston. 'I can hit that bastard from here easy—no trouble at all.'

But as he reached for the rifle Audley caught his arm. 'That won't do any good. We hit one of them and there are still plenty more.'

Winston looked quickly at the group beside the wall, then back to Audley. 'I can maybe get two before they get under cover—'

'No. That isn't the major there with them—or the sergeant-major either.' Audley shook his head.

'Then we can wait for them to show up. Because if that's where the stuff's cached, the second that sonofabitch gets through the wall then they're gonna show, Lieutenant. You can bet on that.'

'And then it'll be too bloody late.' Audley began to crawl backwards. 'Apart from which I doubt you can wing more than one at this range—with that old rifle. And then they'll flush us out of here in no time flat. They've got LMGs and mortars and bazookas, and they know how to use the damn things too. . . .

Come on, let's get moving.'

Winston crawled after the subaltern, protesting. 'Jee-sus, Lieutenant —if it'll be too late then it's already too late now, for God's sake! There's no way we're gonna stop them—no way.'

Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

Once he had reached the safety of the path Audley stood up.

'Very well—there's no way.' He lifted his chin obstinately. 'So we change the plan, Sergeant, that's all.

Come on—and that's an order.'

'Like hell it is!' Winston faced him.

'Sergeant'—Butler touched the American's arm lightly—'there isn't time to argue.'

'Yeah. But time to get killed.' Winston shrugged off the touch. 'You got another plan, Lieutenant—just like that?'

'No, Sergeant—not just like that. I've got the other plan we always had. The Army's solution to all problems. The one thing we're both real experts in.' Audley's voice was suddenly weary. 'It's just a damn shame someone didn't remember the rules back here in 1940, that's all.' He paused. 'Instead of trying to be clever.'

'What rules?'

'What rules?' Audley laughed shrilly, as though on the edge of hysteria. 'God Almighty, Sergeant—

back in '40 we destroyed a whole army's equipment rather than let the Germans get it! ' Equipment and stores likely to fall into enemy hands must be denied them by demolition.'' He stabbed a finger in the direction of the bridge. 'There's a muddy river out there, and a sledge hammer—and you've got a lighter in your pocket. . . . And, by God, there's precious little in this dirty, stinking world that can't be drowned or smashed or burnt so that it's no use to anyone.' Audley's finger balled into his fist and the fist hammered his own chest 'You want to know how I am, Sergeant? I'm the Open Scholar of Queen's who knocked down the medieval church at Tilly-le-Bocage with half a dozen well-placed shots! When it comes to destroying things, I'm a professional—and we are going to destroy what's under that bridge, believe me.' He looked quickly at Butler. 'Right, Corporal Butler?'

'Right, sir,' said Butler.

They hit their second Chandos Force soldier at the edge of the wood, with the chateau plain to see.

And hit was again the operative word.

'Wot the 'ell's this, then?'

Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

Butler swung his back to the man instantly, thanking God for the rival attraction of Hauptmann Grafenberg, who had the stupid bugger staring pop-eyed: it was the bandit with the Uncle Joe Stalin moustache who had stood right next to him in the barn.