Darkest Hour

'Jesus - will you look at that?' muttered Sykes. 'What's going on here?'

'Must be One Corps falling back,' said Tanner. 'They were due to do it last night.'

'Then why are we heading in the opposite direction?' said Hepworth, from behind him.

'Why do you think, Hep?' said Tanner.

'Dunno, Sarge.'

Tanner sighed. 'Use your bloody loaf and stop asking stupid questions.'

'But, Sarge—' Hepworth protested, but Tanner cut him off.

'We've got to guard the canal and make sure Jerrv doesn't get across too easily and harry those boys' retreat.' He knew he had sounded irritable but, really, he thought, Hepworth should know better by now.

The company was halted as a long column of fifteen- hundredweight trucks trundled past, choking dust swirling into the air. The Rangers could see the soldiers through the open tarpaulins at the back of each truck Most seemed sullen, faces long, cigarettes hanging from their mouths. Several carriers whirred past too.

'You're going the wrong way!' one man shouted at them. A few of his fellows laughed but, Tanner noticed, not many.

Eventually the column disappeared in a haze of dust. Coughing and spluttering, the platoon continued its march, dropping down a long, gentle slope into the village of Oisquercq, where they rejoined the rest of the battalion. More carriers and trucks were crammed along the roads that led into and out of the village. Troops milled around. NCOs shouted. Tanner wondered which group was from B Company, but then they moved on again, past the church and onto a tree-lined path that led out of the village between a single-track railway line and the banks of the broad waterway that was the Brussels-Charleroi canal.

'Some barrier this,' said Sykes. It was at least sixty yards wide, filled with dark, murky water. Opposite, fields rose away towards a long, thick wood, which dominated the horizon overlooking the canal.

Just south of the village, by a white-painted brick station house, the company was halted again, the runner appearing soon after. 'The men to stand easy, platoon commanders and sergeants for a meeting with Captain

Barclay,' he said, as he reached Peploe and Tanner.

The two men followed him. Barclay, Captain Wrightson and CSM Blackstone were standing in the shade of the station house, examining a rough, hand- drawn map. Blackstone looked up briefly at their arrival, then, once the others had arrived, turned to Barclay. 'Everyone's here, sir.'

Except Sergeant Wilkes, thought Tanner, with a stab of alarm.

'Good,' said the captain, then cleared his throat. 'We're going to dig in along these banks from here to that farm up ahead on the bend in the canal.' Set back from the water, it was some five hundred yards away from where they were standing. Tanner noticed there were troops there. 'That farm,' said Barclay, 'marks the end of the BEF's line and the start of the French First Army. It's currently occupied by a battalion of the Second North African Infantry Division. Ten Platoon will dig in on our left, here, towards the village, Eleven Platoon in the centre and Twelve between them and the French.' He looked at Lieutenant Peploe. 'But try to avoid the French. I know we're allies, but we do our thing and they do theirs. What's more, their men are all bloody wogs, and apparently even the officers are a shifty bunch, hardly to be relied upon. Spoke to a chap back in the village - a major in A Company, actually - who says the French First Army have been an absolute bloody shower so far. One of the main reasons we're making a general withdrawal is because their part of the line collapsed as soon as Jerry showed up.' He tapped the side of his nose. 'But that's strictly entre nous, all right?' He looked at the men then said, 'Good. All clear? Any questions?'

'Yes, sir,' said Peploe. 'How long are we expected to stay here?'

'Not long. We're not quite sure where Jerry is, so I can't say for certain, but probably we'll fall back tonight. We'll be taking up the rear once the rest of the corps arc clear. Anything else?'

'Yes, sir,' said Peploe.

Barclay made little attempt to hide his impatience. 'Yes, Lieutenant?'

'Last night, sir, you said that one of our sergeants would be joining B Company.'

'Yes, Lieutenant, and so they have.'

Tanner felt a hollowness in his stomach. So I was right. The bloody bastards.

'But, sir, Sergeant Tanner is the most experienced sergeant in the company by some margin. That posting should be his.'

'Careful, Peploe,' said Barclay. 'It's not your place to tell me who gets promoted from this company.' He shuffled his feet. 'There are a few question marks over Sergeant Tanner. That episode back at Manston, for example - shooting at Squadron Leader Lyell. And last night, I hear, he seriously undermined the authority of the CSM.'

Tanner groaned inwardly, saw Peploe glance at him - what's this? - and then, to his mounting fury, Blackstone grinning at him triumphantly. Of course. He should have known Blackstone would use that to his advantage.

'Now how would it look, Lieutenant, if I recommend a sergeant to join B Company as a newly promoted platoon sergeant-major and they find they've got a trouble-maker on their hands? Hm?'

Tanner watched Peploe's pale face redden with indignation. 'Very well, sir, but I'd like it made clear here and now that I do not believe Sergeant Tanner is a trouble-maker of any kind and that I, for one, am glad to have him in my platoon. I think he's been treated appallingly.'

Tanner looked at his feet, embarrassed by Peploe's impassioned outburst.

'That's enough, Peploe,' said Captain Wrightson.

'Yes,' added Barclay. 'I've made my decision and that's an end to it. Now, get to your men and start digging in right away.'