Darkest Hour

sure Barclay and the rest of the company remained in the village. With a bit of talk to the captain about duty and honour and obeying his orders to the letter, that had been easy enough. The second part of the plan was to wake the unconscious SS officer and talk about Tanner loudly; and the third was to make sure he and Slater got the hell out of there - which they had by telling the OC they were going to get reinforcements. It had all been working perfectly until they'd discovered another vehicle had got away - and that the stupid bastards in it had got reinforcements. Rather than Tanner being left to a slow, painful death at the hands of the SS, his nemesis had turned up again with the rest of them the following morning. Blackstone had felt like shooting him down there and then.

Now he got up and walked out of the barn into the yard, still clutching the bottle. It was a still, cool night, with just the hint of a breeze. For a moment, he wondered whether he and Slater should take the ambulance and scarper with the loot they'd acquired since they'd been in France, but he knew that wasn't the answer. After Warlus, he wouldn't make the same mistake of assuming the lads would all end up dead or captured. In any case, the survivors would be bound to report them. No, he needed to get the boys on his side, which he'd been working hard at the past few days. He reckoned he'd done quite well, too, but with the lieutenant now in charge, his authority had been weakened. And he was all too aware that most of them, especially those in Peploe's platoon, still respected Tanner. Somehow he needed to get Peploe out of the way. Yes. Peploe first, and then he'd sort out Tanner once and for all.

A light at the top of the house caught his attention and he looked up to see the nurse standing at the window in her underclothes, drawing the thick curtains. He felt his loins stir and took another glug of wine. An idea occurred to him - a plan that would not only get rid of Peploe, but would allow himself a bit of fun with the girl. There were, as far as he knew, only four people in the farmhouse: the farmer and his wife, the lieutenant and the nurse. He took another glug of wine. Courage, lad. This little plan might just work. A bit reckless, perhaps, but the wine was making him feel so, and the sight of the girl had awakened in him the urge to find female company. Let's see what Ted makes of it. Returning to the barn, he trod softly among the snoring men and woke Slater, who followed him silently outside.

'All right,' said Slater, once Blackstone had explained his plan. 'But we should leave it another hour. Make sure everyone's properly asleep.'

'All right. You can have the girl after I'm done.'

'Not my type,' muttered Slater. 'And there's a shotgun in the kitchen. I saw it earlier. I'll get that and I've got the captain's Webley too.' He grinned. 'Hang on a minute. I bet there are supplies in that blood-wagon. Some chloroform could come in handy.'

Blackstone chuckled. 'I like it. I'll go and talk to the sentries outside the front while you have a little rummage.'

It was a quarter to midnight when they crept into the dairy next to the house and, from there, found some steps and an open door that led into the kitchen. Using their torches they soon spotted the shotgun resting in a corner by an old oak dresser. Both barrels were loaded. Slater smiled. 'They were always going to be,' he whispered. 'After all, this is a time of war.'

They trod softly up the stone stairs. From the landing there were a number of rooms but they had already guessed from the open windows they had seen in the yard where the farmer and his wife, and the lieutenant, were sleeping. Stealing down the corridor, Blackstone saw, to his relief, that the lieutenant's door was ajar. He listened and heard his slow, rhythmic breathing, then nodded to Slater. Putting on his respirator, Slater took out a two-ounce tube of chloroform and entered the room. Blackstone waited breathlessly, but half a minute later Slater reappeared, taking off his gas mask. 'He's out for the count. You go and get him, then have your oats,' he whispered. 'I'll sort out Mr and Mrs Farmer.'

Lieutenant Peploe was laid out on his bed, still wearing his trousers and shirt. Blackstone listened to the faint breathing, then hoisted him onto his shoulders with a gasp, staggered out of the room and up the second flight of stairs to the top of the house. He was hot and breathing heavily by the time he got there, and, he realized, his senses weren't quite as keen as he would have liked. He'd had too much of that damned wine. He shook his head, then moved towards the door at the end of the short passage.

It opened before he had reached it, and there, before him, was the nurse, hastily buttoning the neck of her dress. 'What's the matter?' she asked. Her dark hair, he noticed, was cut short and hung to her shoulders. She had a trim, shapely figure.

'It's the lieutenant,' he said. 'He's unwell.'

She switched on the corridor light, then glanced up at him guardedly. 'All right,' she said. 'Put him on the bed.'

He did so, then stood back. At that moment, there was a commotion from below. The farmer's wife screamed, then there was a crash and the farmer himself began to shout.

'My God, what on earth's going on?' said the nurse, alarm in her voice.

'Never you mind,' said Blackstone, grabbing her wrist.

'Let go of me!' she shouted, but Blackstone had both her wrists now and pushed her to the floor. She was wriggling and kicking as he heard Slater and the farmer thumping up the stairs.

'You nearly done, Will?' Slater called.

'No, I'm bloody not,' he gasped. 'Keep still, will you, lass?'

'Too bad,' said Slater. 'I'm coming up.'

Blackstone saw the girl's eyes widen as Slater entered the room. Turning, he saw his friend's hand was over the farmer's mouth and the shotgun was pressed to his side. Now he flung the man against the wall, then calmly pulled the trigger. Plasterwork fell as Monsieur Michaud slumped to the floor. Blackstone was momentarily stupefied, then felt a violent pain in his groin. Rolling over in agony, he was conscious of the nurse jumping to her feet and running out of the room.

'For God's sake, Will!' snarled Slater. He took off after her, and as Blackstone, still wincing, got to his knees, he heard a second blast and then, faintly, a splash.

Tanner had been awake the moment he heard the shotgun. Others were stirring too, but he grabbed his MP35 and ran out of the barn, across the yard and into the house. Flailing in the dark, he was halfway up the stairs when the second shot rang out. Flinching, he hurried on.

'Sir!' he shouted. 'Sir!'