'Thank you, sir,' said Tanner, taking one and passing it on to Sykes.
Peploe took a small silver matchbox from his pocket, and lit their cigarettes.
'Nice matchbox, sir,' said Sykes.
'Thank you, Sykes,' said Peploe. 'It was a twenty-first birthday present from my sister. It's damn useful, actually. Never have to worry about matches getting damp.'
Tanner inhaled deeply, then breathed out, a swirling cloud of blue-grey smoke rising into the thickening leaves of the chestnuts beside them. In the fields and woods on the opposite side of the canal, the enemy was no longer anywhere to be seen. He imagined the German reconnaissance troops radioing back the news that the British and French were in retreat again. He wondered whether their efforts in the wood opposite had made any difference. Although it was true that nearly thirty lay dead or wounded and would not fight them again, it was small fry. The main body of the German advance was presumably still ploughing its way towards them.
'Sergeant?' said Peploe.
Tanner pushed back his tin hat and rubbed his brow. 'Yes, sir,' he said. 'Thank you for that.'
Tanner had calmed considerably by the time they reached Headquarters. The violent rage he had felt towards Blackstone had been replaced by a more controlled anger, so that when he was ushered round the back of the station house to be grilled by Barclay, he was able to keep any murderous thoughts in check.
To his relief, there was no sign of Blackstone, but he was surprised to see Squadron Leader Lyell sitting beneath the oak tree behind the house, his head bound with a wad and bandage.
'Ah, my rescuer, the gallant sergeant,' said Lyell, his words slurred with morphine, 'or, rather, the man who buggered off and left us to be bombed to hell by Stukas.'
'I thought you'd been taken to the battalion MO, sir.'
'Well, he should have been, Sergeant,' said Captain Barclay, emerging from the house, 'but there's been a slight breakdown in communications. Ten Platoon have gone with the truck to Oisquercq. They're leaving slightly ahead of us with the rest of the battalion. Charlie - er, Squadron Leader Lyell was supposed to go with them.'
'I'm glad I'm not in the Army,' said Lyell. 'You lot always seem to be leaving each other behind.'
'It makes little odds,' snapped Barclay. 'We'll be rendezvousing with the rest of the battalion later tonight. We'll just have to carry you until then. It's not far.'
'Where is it, sir?'
Barclay pulled out a crumpled map. 'Er . . . here,' he said, holding it against the grassy bank beside the house and pointing to a wooded area some four miles west. 'Bois de Neppe. Orders from Battalion are for us to meet there at nineteen thirty hours.'
Tanner looked at his watch. It was nearly six o'clock already.
The OC read Tanner's thoughts. 'So we need to get going, smartish.'
'Yes, sir.' He saluted and made to leave, but Barclay stopped him.
'Hold on a moment, Sergeant. There's still time for you to tell me briefly what the bloody hell's been going on. Your orders were to rescue Squadron Leader Lyell yet you disappeared with two of your men and left Ellis and Smailes to get him back on their own. Lucky for you that they made it in one piece.'
'With respect, sir, the Stuka attack would have happened whether I was with them or not. I didn't leave Squadron Leader Lyell until I knew he was alive and that Smailes and Ellis could manage his injuries. But I heard enemy troops a short distance above us, sir, and was worried they might hinder our efforts to get the squadron leader back. I took Hepworth and Sykes with me to investigate.'
'Sergeant Tanner and his men discovered part of a German reconnaissance battalion, sir,' said Peploe.
'Four armoured cars and eight motorcycles. They were reporting our movements by radio and, I think, had been marking targets for the Stukas.'
'Sergeant Tanner and his two men destroyed them, sir,' added Peploe.
'Destroyed them? How on earth could three of you have done that?'
'We surprised them, sir. Surprise is a great advantage,' he said, then added hastily, 'as you know, sir. And they were distracted by the Stukas. Hepworth here cut most of them down with the Bren while Sykes and I crept behind them and disabled the armoured cars with grenades. We captured seven prisoners, but we lost one trying to make it back.'
'That was certainly good work, Sergeant. Captain Wrightson has taken them to Battalion HQ with Ten Platoon.'
'So you managed to get the prisoners to Battalion but not me,' muttered Lyell. 'Nice to know I'm lower in the pecking order than some bloody captured Huns.'
Barclay sighed. 'For God's sake,' he said, through gritted teeth, 'be thankful you're still alive and not being carted off to some German prison camp.' He turned back to Tanner. 'Go on, Sergeant.'
'I also took the chance to have a bit of a dekko, sir. I took one of the bikes to the far side of the ridge and saw the Germans in the distance. At the time, I reckoned they were twelve to fifteen miles away. They'll reach the canal by nightfall.'
Barclay swallowed. 'Right. I see.' He patted his pockets and took out his pipe.
'And, sir, I’d like you to know that Corporal Sykes and Private Hepworth performed well. Sykes alone destroyed an armoured car and Hepworth accounted for at least fifteen enemy.'
'Really? By Jove! All right, Tanner. Thank you. Duly noted. And, er, well done.'
Blackstone joined them from the back of the house. 'Sir, we really should be going. We've been held up long
