'I can't resist this.' Tanner grinned. He upended the wooden box in the middle of the road, then placed the last cartridge on top. 'Now, where's Hep? I need some tracer rounds. Hep?'
Hepworth hurried over from one of the other jelly- mounds - as the men had christened them - and gave him a handful. Placing them in his haversack on his hip, Tanner strode forward and, binoculars to his eyes, gazed down the valley.
Sun glinting on glass, a few miles away. 'They're coming,' he muttered, under his breath, and glanced at his watch: 19.35. His heart began to beat faster, but this time with exhilaration rather than fear. 'They're coming!' he yelled. He felt in his haversack, took out his Aldis scope, unravelled the cloth in which it was wrapped and screwed it on to his rifle.
Sykes hurried over to him. 'How many, Sarge?'
Tanner peered through his binoculars again. 'Eight trucks - company strength, I suppose.' He watched as the trail of vehicles drew ever closer. Then, when he judged them to be a little over four hundred yards away, he pulled back the bolt of his rifle, pushed it into place and said to Sykes, 'Right, Stan. Keep still.' Resting the rifle on Sykes's shoulder he took careful aim, inhaled gently, held his breath and squeezed the trigger.
Five rounds slammed into the leading truck, which swerved off the road, rolled down the side of the hill and crashed into the river. Tanner's men cheered. They could hear the screams of the enemy troops. Raising his binoculars once more, Tanner watched men pour out of the remaining trucks and spread out in a wide arc.
'Time to go,' said Tanner.
They ran back to the Marines' lines and watched as the enemy cautiously approached. Germans shouted as they reached the gaps in the road, then pressed on, spreading out through the trees. Soon after, as Tanner and his men wove their way through the Marines' positions, they heard a small explosion and another scream.
McAllister grinned. 'That's one trip they didn't notice.'
Crouching beside one of the Marines' Bren crews, Tanner took a bead on one of the jelly-mounds. A short distance beyond he could make out some enemy troops darting from tree to tree. 'Come on, Jerry,' he muttered, 'a bit closer.' Now. As he squeezed the trigger, the tracer round hurtled down the rifle's barrel at a little under two and a half thousand feet per second, smacked straight into the cartridge of gelignite and exploded instantly. Several men disintegrated with the blast, while others were flung through the air, limbs torn from them. A half- minute later, Tanner had detonated a second. Trees caught fire, enemy troops cried out and then, as the first Germans came into range of the Marines' Lewis and Bren guns, the chatter of small-arms rang out around the valley.
A tank was now squeaking and scraping its way forward, trundling at a steep angle round the side of the trucks. It was huge, larger than any Tanner had seen before. Pausing to watch, he followed it as it edged its way towards the first of the fallen trees.
'Come on, my lovely,' said Tanner. 'A bit closer.' He glanced round and saw that his men were crouching beside him, watching too.
The tank drew within twenty yards of the first of the felled trees, then opened fire at point-blank range. Immediately a huge ball of flame erupted into the sky followed by a second explosion as the tank's magazine detonated. The dark shape of the turret was silhouetted against the flames as it was propelled into the air. Thick black smoke engulfed the road and railway line and swept across the river, and then, as indistinct figures emerged through the smoke, the machine guns opened fire again. But the enemy infantry pressed on. Half a dozen ran straight down the road towards them, shouting as they came.
'The mad bastards,' said Tanner, carefully drawing his rifle to his shoulder and taking aim at the lone gelignite box now directly in front of the advancing soldiers. He fired, the gelignite exploded, and when the smoke cleared, the six men were gone. So, too, were the rest of the attackers, who had slipped back behind the cover of the smoke.
The attack had been stopped dead.
The small band of Marines and Rangers now waited. Pacing up and down through the trees, Tanner peered ahead through the smoke and haze, straining his eyes for any sign of the enemy. The tank still burned, thick black smoke pitching high into the valley. 'Where are those bastards?' he muttered. An eerie quiet had descended across the valley. A cough from someone beside him, a chink of metal, but no one spoke. He saw the exhausted and tense expressions on the faces of his men and on those of the Marines nearby.
Minutes ticked past. Sykes passed round a packet of cigarettes. Tanner smoked, looked at his watch for the twentieth time in as many minutes, then said, 'Damn it,' and strode towards Lieutenant Lindsay's sangar.
'Any news, sir?' he asked.
'None, Sergeant, I'm afraid. Perhaps Jerry's called it off for the night.'
'Maybe,' said Tanner. 'I just wish that damned train would leave.' He looked at his watch: 20.21. He walked back to his men, and as he approached Sykes, he stopped suddenly and cocked his ear.
'What is it, Sarge?' asked Sykes.
'Listen.' The faint, but increasingly distinct sound of engines. Aero-engines.
They could all hear them now, the sound rising to deafening roar. Jesus, thought Tanner, how many is that? A dozen at least. The aircraft were above them now, and through the trees and the thinning smoke, he saw a formation of Stukas high above them. As he craned his neck, the first flipped over on to its back and dived, siren howling, then the next, and the next, and the one after that, until the air was rent by the crescendo wail of their diving scream. Tanner lay flat on the ground, his hands clasping his tin helmet to his head as bombs hurtled towards them.
Explosions, an ear-splitting clatter, one after another. Tanner heard the scream of one man, then was lifted clean off the ground and smacked back down again, the air knocked clean from his lungs. He gasped, debris and grit tinkling on to his hands and helmet, and pattering through the branches above. Suddenly he noticed he could no longer hear. He could feel the pulse of the bombs rippling through the ground, could see the flash of orange and thick clouds of smoke, but there was no sound. Daring to look up he saw two Marines crouching in their sangar not forty yards from him as another falling bomb seemed to detonate right on top of them. Tanner ducked again as debris sprayed him. When he raised his head and the smoke cleared, he saw the men had gone, their sangar replaced by a large hole in the ground. There was something wet on his hand - a glob of gore. 'Christ,' he said to himself, and wiped it off. Five yards ahead the bloodied face of one of the Marines lay among the dried pine needles. Of the rest of the head and body, there was no sign.
His ears began to ring, a high, piercing whine, then sound returned. The sirens of the Stukas had gone but, he realized, shells were now ranging in towards them from the south. 'Rangers!' he shouted, and began to run between the trees. He found Hepworth vomiting, then saw Sykes and McAllister. Another artillery shell fizzed over and exploded behind them. 'Where are the others?' he yelled.
Sykes pointed to Bell and Chambers, taking cover a short distance behind, then spotted Kershaw half running, half crouching, towards him. 'Keep looking out for the infantry,' he shouted.
A glance at his watch: 20.42. Bloody hell, he thought. Artillery shells continued to smash through the trees and along the valley, and there were mortars, too, popping down, almost with no warning, blasting deadly shards of shredded metal.
'We can't hold out here much longer, Sarge,' said Sykes.
'No,' agreed Tanner, 'I just hope to Christ that train's gone now the Stukas have buggered off.'
A shrill single whistle blast rang out, and as one the Marines moved from their positions and hurried backwards.
'Rangers!' shouted Tanner again, at a second whistle blast. 'Fall back!'
A shell screamed above them and now the burp of a Spandau and the crack of rifle fire could be heard. As Tanner began to run, he turned to see shadowy figures emerging through the smoke. 'They're coming,' he yelled, then a flash of orange and more screams as another trip-wire was detonated. He paused briefly, squatting on his haunches, and using his scope, aimed at one of the remaining jelly-mounds. Bullets whiffled through the air, zapping through branches and slapping into the ground around him. Spotting the stick of gelignite, he aimed his rifle as troops materialized through the smoke. Tanner squeezed the trigger, watching the tracer trail slice through the air
