use up a bit more of our explosive. Can you start rigging the truck? You've got about five minutes. Dan, head up stream a bit, then cut into the trees on the right- hand side. Look for a good view down here, where you can see the road both sides of the bridge. The rest, follow Dan and be ready with your magazines. Find some good cover. The corp and I will join you in a minute. Now get going. Iggery, all right?'
Erwood and the other five hurried off and Sykes was already rigging together four cartons of Nobel's gelignite.
'What have you got, Sarge?' he asked, quick fingers deftly tying a length of fuse round them.
'Five more packets of Nobel's and about ten sticks of Polar. Oh, and half a dozen grenades. Where you going to put them?'
'Round the fuel tank, I thought. And why don't you put one of your cartons of Nobel's in the engine bay?'
'All right. What size bang is this going to make?'
'A big one.' Sykes grinned.
'Good. It needs to be. We've got to blow up as many of those trucks and as many Jerries as possible. How are we going to trigger it?'
'Grenade on the door?'
'Sounds good.' He lifted one side of the bonnet, and placed the carton of gelignite beside the coil.
'Seems a shame to blow her up,' said Sykes, as he opened the driver's side of the cab and leant in to set the booby trap on the passenger door. 'She's a good little runner, this one, and only a year or two old.'
'All for the greater good, Stan.'
'I s'pose. Even so.'
He handed the fuse back to Tanner then said, 'I see Mr Chevannes has buggered off.'
'I told him to. Someone's got to look after the professor and Miss Rostad.'
'He didn't need much persuading.'
'No, the sod. I could read his mind like a bloody book. He was thinking, This might seem a bit cowardly, but there's every chance I'll get rid of that bastard Tanner.' He chuckled. 'Christ, he's a pain in the arse.'
'Well, it's just us now, Sarge.'
'Yes,' said Tanner, 'and I feel happier already. Right. All done?'
Sykes nodded.
'Good. Let's get the hell away from here.' They scrambled off the road and up the side of the stream. 'You in position, Dan?' Tanner called to Erwood.
'Yes, Sarge,' Erwood shouted back, as Tanner and Sykes continued climbing up and away from the road.
'Good cover?'
'Yes, Sarge!'
'Have you sorted out your escape route?'
A pause. 'Think so, Sarge.'
Tanner slipped, cursed, then looked back to see the leading enemy truck turn the last shallow curve in the road a couple of hundred yards behind them. His heart was thumping again. 'Here they come!' Tanner called, and scrambled up through the snow and into the trees, short of breath, chest tight, blood pumping. Good, he thought. Erwood, with Hepworth beside him, lay behind a rocky outcrop, a clear field of fire on the road below and the stream beneath them. The other riflemen were nearby, most behind trees but making good use of the undulations on the steep slope rising from the stream. They were learning, thought Tanner. Behind him, he saw the others' tracks disappearing into the trees. The forested slopes, he knew, would be a great help; as the mountain climbed away from them, the dense pines seemed to draw towards one another, so that within about seventy yards from where he now stood he could no longer see any snow-covered ground at all, only the trees. The pines would protect them as they fell back.
'Stan, you stick back on the lip of the ravine,' he told his corporal. He wanted Sykes to be able to make an easy get-away, should it be necessary. 'And here,' he said, taking off his pack and gas-mask bag, 'keep these by your feet, or put them somewhere out of the way.' He now realized how foolhardy he had been in keeping so much high explosive about him during the firefight at the seter; he'd been fortunate then, but he didn't want to chance his luck a second time. He grabbed two sticks of Polar dynamite and three grenades, then stuffed them into his haversack, which still hung from his hip, and ran over to Erwood and Hepworth.
'Hep, grab your rifle and move back. I'm going to man the Bren with Dan.'
'Where to, Sarge?' asked Hepworth.
'Up the hill a bit. Where you can get some good shots in and get away quickly. Go! Get a bloody move on!'
Along the road ahead the trucks were drawing near. With shaking hands, Tanner undid the fastenings on his magazine pouches, felt in his haversack for his grenades and .303 ammunition clips, then pulled his rifle into his shoulder. 'Got a couple of tracer rounds, Dan?'
Erwood handed him two. Tanner fed them into an ammunition clip and slotted it into his rifle's magazine.
'Ready?' he asked.
'Sarge.'
'Don't fire until I say.' He took a bead on the truck. The pack of Nobel's strapped to the fuel tank was out of sight, but he had a clear view of the bonnet. His body was tense, heart hammering, as the first enemy truck drew alongside the Morris-Commercial, then slowly pushed on across the bridge. Damn, he thought, then saw that the two trucks following had halted alongside Sulheim's wagon. Orders were being barked and troops, most now wearing helmets rather than field caps, were jumping from the back of the lorries. Tanner watched with bated breath as two men approached the Morris. Then, to his annoyance, they stepped round to the far side and opened the door. 'Sod it,' whispered Tanner.
'What is it, Sarge?' mouthed Erwood.
'They've opened the wrong door.' The soldiers were shouting now and pointing wildly. 'They've found the grenade,' muttered Tanner, and pulled back the bolt on his rifle. He knew that the moment he fired the battle would start. Would he survive? Would any of them? God only knows. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.
The first bullet missed, but the men by the truck had had no chance to look up before the second slammed into the bonnet, puncturing the thin metal, tearing into the packet of gelignite and igniting it. Less than a split second later, the explosion in the engine bay provided the spark needed to detonate the two packs of Nobel's that Sykes had tied to the petrol tank. A vast ball of livid orange flame erupted round the Morris, incinerating the men who, a moment before, had been examining the cab, and engulfing the second German truck. Stunned soldiers screamed and fell backwards, some on fire. Now the third truck was aflame, the engine exploding, propelling shards of metal and glass.
'Bloody hell, Sarge!' whistled Erwood.
'Start firing, Dan,' said Tanner. 'We might have destroyed two trucks but that's only half the job.' He fired off several rounds himself as the Bren began to chatter next to him, empty cartridge cases clattering on to the bare rock. Men were falling in disarray at either side of the burning vehicles, too stunned to think clearly or organize themselves, but Tanner knew this advantage would soon pass. Adrenalin had taken over from fear. His mind was alert and clear, and what concerned him now was that the men from the first and last trucks, either side of the carnage, would try to infiltrate round the side of their position. Smoke billowed upwards - thick, black smoke. It covered the road and lead truck too. Bollocks. He'd not thought of that, but it gave the enemy from the lead truck perfect cover to make an advance up the slope on the far side of the stream. We should make what use of it we can too, thought Tanner.
'We need to fall back, Dan,' he said, with sudden clarity, 'and quick.' A moment later he heard a whistle and twenty yards to his right there was an explosion.
'What was that?' shouted Erwood.
'Mortars! They're firing bloody mortars from behind the smokescreen!' Two more followed in quick succession. Bullets were now zipping through the trees as the enemy troops from the first truck found their composure and their aim. 'Quick, Dan, get off a few rounds towards that first truck! Fire through the smoke!' shouted Tanner. Vague figures flitted in the haze as enemy troops scurried from the direction of the truck and onto
