'Do you think it's a Jerry?' Bennett was young, only eighteen.
Before Tanner could reply, the lorry ploughed straight on at the bend, smashing through a fence and a hedge and crashing to a standstill as it hit a tree.
Immediately Tanner was sprinting down the road, Hepworth and Bennett following. As he leaped through the hole in the fence and hedge, he heard groaning from the cab, then saw a figure stumble out, stagger across the young green shoots of corn and collapse.
Hurrying to the prostrate figure, Tanner knelt beside him and put his ear to the man's mouth.
'Ormicki and Kasprowicz,' the man mumbled.
'What?'
'In the lorry,' slurred the man. 'They are in the lorry.'
'No!' groaned the man. 'No!' Tanner dived back to the ground. The flames now lit the sky, and as the sergeant raised his head he saw the shape of two men engulfed in the inferno.
'Let's get out of here,' he said and, with Hepworth's help, hoisted the man to his feet. 'Here, Hep, grab my rifle, will you?' he said. He lifted the man onto his shoulder and carried him across the field to the road. There, they met Lieutenant Peploe and Corporal Sykes.
'A petrol bowser, sir,' said Tanner, as he laid the man carefully on the verge. 'Two dead by the look of it.'
'Bloody hell!' said Peploe. 'What a stupid waste. Our fuel thieves?'
Tanner shrugged. 'Maybe. Here, Hep, shine your torch on him, will you?' He looked down at the man, and saw a livid gash across his forehead. Blood was running freely down the side of his face. Quickly, Tanner delved into his pocket for a field dressing, tore it open and took out the first bandage. He pressed it against the wound, then wrapped the second around the man's head. 'Where are you hurt?' he asked.
'I'm all right,' murmured the man, making an effort to sit up.
'Steady there,' said Tanner. 'Just stay where you are for the moment.' He peered up at Peploe, standing
beside him. 'At the very least this cut needs attention, sir. We should get him to the MO.'
'I'll run down to the hotel,' said Peploe, 'and use their phone to get an ambulance and a fire-wagon. Hepworth, go back to the checkpoint and get the truck. I'll meet you back here.'
'That fire will burn itself out before a fire-wagon can get here, sir.'
'You're probably right, but I still need to report this straight away.'
Tanner nodded. 'Shall I organize another roadblock here, sir? We don't want anyone going near the site, do we?'
'Good idea, Sergeant.'
When the lieutenant had gone, Tanner turned to Sykes and said, 'So why the hell wasn't he stopped at the checkpoint?'
'He just went straight through, Sarge. Nearly knocked Mr Peploe over.'
Tanner sighed, then turned back to the man lying on the ground. 'Can you hear me?'
The man groaned.
'What's your name?'
'Torwinski,' murmured the man. 'I am from Poland.'
'And the other two?'
'Yes - also Poles.'
'That fuel lark you was tellin' me about,' Sykes said, turning to Tanner. 'Perhaps the CSM was right.'
'No,' gasped the man. 'We were taken.' He groaned again and grimaced in pain.
'Easy, mate,' said Sykes. 'Easy.'
'What do you mean?' asked Tanner.
'We were all asleep. Some men came in, woke us up and ordered us to get dressed. They led us out to the truck. Then they hit us. The next thing I know the truck has been driven into the tree and I wake up. I knew I had to get out. Then the explosion.' He put his hand to his eyes. 'I don't know why this happened. I don't know what they wanted with us.'
'Did you see these men?'
'It was dark. Whenever they shone their torches they did so in our faces so we could not see them. But they were soldiers. British soldiers.'
Tanner stood up, walked a few steps away from the prostrate Torwinski, then pushed back his helmet and wiped his brow. 'Bloody hell, Stan. This is not good. Not good at all.'
'What I'd like to know, Sarge, is what the hell a fuel bowser was doing on this road anyway. If you want to hide nicked fuel, why drive towards the coast where there's bound to be roadblocks?'
'God knows. Looks like someone's trying to stitch these lads up, though.'
