Darkest Hour

'I'm doing you a favour, Hep. It's better to be doing something than sitting here getting stonked.'

Having picked up the Boys anti-tank rifle, a Bren and some spare magazines, they found the dinghy, ran to the front of the farmhouse and lowered it into the water. They rowed the short distance across, scrambled onto the far bank, secured the boat and hurried, crouching, along the road to the cottage. It was only a one-storey building, but had a small, neat garden and a hedge that ran round the back, protecting it from the fields beyond, and a willow tree in the far corner.

Intermittent shells and mortars continued to rain on their positions along the canal, but now, from the direction of the destroyed bridge, there came a sudden escalation of small-arms fire from both sides.

'Sounds like Jerry's making a play for the bridge,' said Tanner, as they crept to the back of the cottage. 'Stan, get to work on the cottage, will you? We don't want any Germans using it. Hep, come with me.'

They ran, in a crouch, across the lawn to the far corner beside the willow and, lying on the ground, Tanner peered between the hedge and the tree. He could see the road from L'Avenir leading to the bridge but a track went to a farmhouse by the bridge. German troops were scurrying forward, either side of the road and track, using it as cover. At the end of the track, perhaps two hundred yards away, there was a small cottage and a barn. From where he was, Tanner could just see a mortar team and another anti-tank gun behind it.

Pulling the big Boys rifle into position so that it poked through the hedge, he brought the padded shoulderpiece tight against him and lowered the front support. He had already fitted a five-round magazine and, having adjusted the backsight to two hundred yards, pulled back the bolt, lifted the safety catch and aimed straight at the enemy anti-tank gun.

'Hep, you ready with that Bren?'

'Yes, Sarge.'

'Good. The moment I fire, open up on those Jerries advancing towards the bridge, all right?'

'Sarge.'

Tanner squeezed the trigger and felt the big gun kick hard into his shoulder, then immediately fired again. To his relief, he saw both .55 bullets smack into the gun- shield and topple it. He fired another and one of the gunners was almost sheared in half. The mortar team now looked around nervously - where the hell had that come from? - but before they could react, a third bullet had ripped into the weapon. 'That's got you,' muttered Tanner. He jumped up and ran to the other side of the garden while Hepworth continued to fire short, sharp bursts from the Bren.

Peering through the other side of the hedge, Tanner saw the gun that had been firing at the attic. Quickly bringing the Boys into position again, he was conscious of bullets ripping through the hedge, and twigs being spat onto the lawn beside him. He fired several rounds, saw the bullets strike home, then called to Sykes. 'Stan - you nearly done?'

'Yes, Sarge.'

'Good, let's go. Hep, time to call it a day.' More bullets flew through the hedge, so he crawled to the side of the cottage, then turned to see Hepworth make a dash for it. He had not gone two paces before he fell forward with a cry.

'Hep!' called Tanner.

'Bastard's got me in the back of the leg!'

'All right, I'm coming to get you.' Tanner crawled back to him, grabbed his shoulders, then pulled him towards the cover of the cottage. Keeping Hepworth flat on his belly, he pulled out several field dressings, tore open the thin linen casing and wrapped them tightly round Hepworth's bleeding leg. 'We need to get him back quickly,' he said.

'Let me plant some jelly mounds in some of the vehicles, though, Sarge. You think you can carry Hep?'

'I'll have to.'

From the safety of the front of the cottage, Tanner heaved Hepworth over his shoulder and grabbed the Boys in his spare hand while Sykes took the Bren. Hurrying onto the road, praying that no German would see them, he hastened past the line of burned-out trucks to the boat, groaning at the combined weight of Hepworth, the Boys and his webbing.

'Come on, Stan!' he called, as he squatted with Hepworth on the bank.

A moment later, Sykes slid down beside him and got into the boat, which rocked. Passing him the Boys, Tanner said, 'Have you got her steady?'

'I think so.'

Tanner cursed, then almost lost his balance, with one foot in the boat and the other still on the bank. A shell hit the canal thirty yards further towards the bridge and he almost fell over again, but then, with Sykes's help, he lowered himself, Hepworth still over his shoulder, into the dinghy.

On the other side of the canal, Peploe and Ellis were there to help pull Hepworth, crying out with pain and fear, from the boat. Having passed up the weapons, Tanner and Sykes followed, then scuttled the dinghy and ran along the trench to the rear of the farmhouse.

'We knocked out a couple of anti-tank guns and a mortar,' said Tanner breathlessly, 'and Hep got some Jerry infantry but there's so many of them.'

'Like the hydra's head,' said Peploe. 'You chop off one, and more grow in its place.'

'A bit like that, yes, sir.'

Peploe took a swig from his hip-flask and offered it to Tanner. 'Calvados. I just filled up.'

'Thanks,' said Tanner, taking it.

'We've got two more wounded - two men from Ross's section. That's five now. We need to get them out of here and back to the beaches, but I can't think how.'

'Can the others walk?'