'Aye, Sarge. I won't.'
Tanner slapped him on the back. Then, collecting Chambers and Riggs, he briefly looked around. Although the valley sides were densely forested, especially along the east-facing slopes, up here, where it was more difficult for the loggers to fell and remove their timber, the pines and larch grew wildly, covering but not smothering the mountain. There were open patches too, and it was as the German troops crossed one that Tanner hoped to get a good look at their enemy.
He reckoned he wanted to be about four hundred yards away when he saw them - far enough for them to be out of effective range, but close enough for him to see them clearly through the scope.
'Sarge?' said Sykes. 'I don't like to hurry you or nothing but—'
'I know,' cut in Tanner, still peering at the snow and trees around him. He had spotted a small spur a short distance above and was trying to decide whether it would offer the view and cover they needed. For a brief moment he was paralysed by indecision, then said, 'Up there, quick, to that crest.'
They scrambled up and, as they crouched between two pines, Tanner was relieved to see they had a fine view down the undulating slopes of the valley sides.
'There they are,' hissed Sykes.
Tanner smiled as he watched the enemy troops reach the edge of the clearing, pause, spy the tracks in the snow, then continue forward. 'Start counting them, lads,' he said quietly, then screwed his scope onto the mounts on his rifle.
'You going to start firing, Sarge?' asked Chambers. He looked worried.
'Keep counting, Punter,' said Tanner, 'and if you've got a full magazine, take it from your rifle and hold on to it until I ask you to pass it to me.' He raised the rifle to his shoulder. Through the scope he could clearly see the first section of men. They were spread out in a loose single file and, Tanner was glad to see, their rifles were still slung over their backs. Behind the section leader was a machine-gunner, his weapon carried loosely on his shoulder. A further section of ten followed, and another beyond that. Tanner led his aim along the column. Where was the commander? Some of the men wore green-collared greatcoats, but most had on shorter, light olive jackets. All were wearing peaked field caps rather than helmets and had only small rucksacks on their backs. At that distance, even with the scope, it was hard to tell who was in charge.
'Thirty-nine, sir,' said Riggs.
'That's what I make it,' agreed Sykes.
'Fine,' said Tanner. 'You ready with that magazine, Punter?'
'Yes, Sarge,' said Chambers.
His father had taught Tanner a good trick for judging distance. The key was to be able to assess a hundred- yard stretch almost exactly. Do that, his father had assured him, and the next hundred yards and the hundred yards beyond that were easier to judge; it was a matter of understanding the naked eye's sense of perspective and increasingly reducing each ensuing hundred-yard stretch. He reckoned the leading troops were now at about four hundred yards. Then remembering that distance was easily overestimated when you were looking downwards, he aimed just a fraction low at the lead troop, exhaled gently and fired.
The man dropped immediately, and Tanner fired his next three shots while the startled troops looked around wildly and thought to flatten themselves on the ground. Even once they were prostrate on the snow, there were some easy targets as they lifted their heads to loosen their rifles, or crouched and ran for the cover of the trees. Tanner reckoned he had hit seven men with his first magazine. One man was crawling across the snow, vivid blood trailing behind him. Men were shouting. The first German rifle shot cracked through the mountainside, way off, but was followed by many more, bullets zipping through the trees above and below them.
'Give me that magazine,' said Tanner. His voice was steady, firm. He unclicked the first, drove the replacement into its place and fired again. Five shots and by then the machine-gunner of the second section was firing. The aim was wild, but the short, rapid bursts were well spread. Tanner fired twice more. Another burst from the machine-gun, and this time bullets fizzed close by. Riggs screamed.
'Sarge, we need to get out of here!' Sykes had grabbed Riggs, who was clutching the side of his head.
Tanner pulled back the bolt one last time and hit a man square in the chest. 'Come on, let's go. Is it serious?' he said to Sykes as they scrambled down from the spur.
'I've been hit in the head!' Riggs shouted, but he was still upright.
'Can you keep going?' Tanner said, grabbing Riggs's greatcoat and, with Sykes, propelling the lad forward.
'I think so,' he gasped.
Shots were still pinging through the trees, snapping branches and ricocheting off rocks, but most were fizzing harmlessly above their heads. A burr of intermittent machine-gun fire also cut through the mountain. 'Just keep going, lads. Run,' Tanner urged, as they rejoined their tracks to slide and stumble away from the enemy.
Only once the shots died out did they pause, bent double and gasping. Tanner put an arm round Riggs's shoulders. 'You're still alive, then?'
'I think I must be in shock, Sarge.'
'Let's have a look at you.' Blood covered the side of Riggs's face and neck. 'Under all this red stuff you look pretty intact,' said Tanner, as he clutched Riggs's head and peered intently at it. Then he spotted a gash at the side of his forehead and laughed. 'It's a bloody little nick! You've been grazed by a bullet or a splinter or something. But you'll live. You'll be fine.'
'It really hurts, though, Sarge.'
'Stop being such an old woman, Private,' said Sykes, pulling out a field-dressing pack.
'No, hang on a minute with that, Stan,' said Tanner. 'Bit of blood in the snow could be useful. Here, Harry, lean over a bit.' He pushed Riggs's head forward. 'Good thing about a cut on the head - lots of blood. That's it, drip there.'
'Bloody hell, Sarge, I'm draining away here!' Riggs was indignant.
'King and country, Riggs, think of that,' said Tanner. 'Right, now iggery. Let's get a move on back to the others and, Harry, if you could lean your head forward as we run, I'd be much obliged.' Sykes and Chambers grinned at him. Tanner slapped Riggs on the back. 'Well, done, Harry,' he said. 'You're a brave man - a very brave man.'
'How long do you reckon that'll hold them up, Sarge?' Sykes asked, as Tanner unslung his rifle, quickly unscrewed the scope and placed it back in his trouser pocket.
'Not long. But it'll make them more cautious, and that'll slow them. Those Jerries'll be a bit on edge now, too, and that's what we want. And, of course, there's a few less for us to worry about.'
'That was good shooting back there, Sarge,' said Chambers, as they hurried onwards, following the tracks in the snow.
'Thanks, Punter. A bit wild, I'm afraid but, dead or wounded, I reckon maybe ten won't be going any further today.'
'That was twenty shots in about half a minute.' Chambers was quite animated. 'I've never seen anyone fire so fast.'
'Really?' said Tanner. 'I don't know who's been teaching you to shoot, then. Any half-decent shot should be able to fire thirty well-aimed rounds a minute. If you've got someone at hand with spare magazines, it's not hard to fire forty a minute. Have you Territorial boys never been taught that?'
'No, Sarge,' admitted Chambers. 'We've done plenty of marksmanship but we've never timed ourselves.'
