Darkest Hour

'You don't think it can be closed, my lord?'

'Do you, Henry?'

'I agree he didn't seem very confident.'

'An understatement.' Gort held his hands together and tapped his chin with them. 'I have to say, Henry, the situation is worse than I'd thought.'

'Our chaps have reached the Dendre in good order,' said Pownall, 'and they'll be at the Escaut tomorrow. But there's certainly a complete void on our right. Between us and the Boche there is nothing but a few disorganized fag-ends of French units, as far as I can make out.'

Gort was silent for a time, locked in deep thought. 'As I see it, Henry,' he said at length, 'we have three options. First, we can help Billotte counter-attack and try to push the Germans back. But, as we've discovered, he has apparently no plan whatsoever as to how we can achieve this, and we don't even know what troops he's got for such an operation. Second, we could swing all our forces back to the Somme, to the south, but that's assuming the Germans don't thrust any further and that we've got time to make such a move. It would have the advantage of enabling us to retreat on our lines of communication, but it would also mean deserting the Belgians.'

Pownall relit his pipe. 'You think neither option is practicable?'

'I don't see that they are.'

'And the third?'

Gort sighed. 'The third option, Henry, is to withdraw the BEF to the Channel ports as a preliminary to evacuation.'

'Evacuation?' Pownall took his pipe from his mouth. 'The entire BEF?'

Gort turned away from the map and began to pace the room. 'Yes, Henry - or as much of our force as possible. If the French don't buck up pretty damn quickly, the Germans will be, victorious. Good God, look what they've achieved already! We can't do it alone here. Our boys have done all we've asked of them, but they can't work miracles. My responsibility is first and foremost to Britain and the men under my command. If France falls, who do you think will be next for Hitler? We're going to need every man available, so to send three hundred and fifty thousand to prison camps in Germany won't help our cause, will it?'

'No, but - good God, it'd mean leaving the battle at the time the French will most need us.'

'I can't help that. I need to speak to my corps commanders. Henry, tomorrow morning I want you to get Brookey, Barker and Adam over here, and convene a staff conference first thing to plan such a withdrawal. I still hope it may not come to this - the French may buck up, you never know - but we must be prepared. We have to have a plan, Henry, even if they do not.'

'By God, what a night,' said Pownall, now staring gloomily at the large wall map of northern France and the Low Countries. 'How awful it is to be allied to such a temperamental race.'

At the farm, Sykes held his breath, but his heart was hammering. Behind him, Bell moved and something chinked - his water-bottle against his bayonet, perhaps. It was a small noise but to Sykes, waiting by that partially open door, it had seemed horribly loud. The approaching German soldier was just yards away now.

Please, God. Sykes's whole body was tense.

Voices - orders. Then footsteps and, to his relief, Sykes saw both men go back to their motorcycles. So maybe there is a God after all, he thought. Gunning their throttles, the noise ripping apart the stillness of the night, the soldiers sped back through the archway and up the road towards the village.

'Quick!' said Sykes. They dashed out into the yard, ran between two outbuildings, and helped each other over the wall into the orchard.

They sprinted without stopping all the way to the wood, gave the right password - 'Churchill' - and, using the light of a filtered torch, made their way to 10 Platoon's bivouac area. There they found Tanner asleep on a patch of soft moss at the foot of a large oak, wrapped in his gas cape and leather jerkin.

'Sarge! Sarge!' hissed Sykes, shaking his shoulder.

Tanner opened his eyes immediately and sat up, pulling off his cape. 'What time is it?' he asked. 'And what are you two doing here? Who's at the tower?'

'It's twenty past midnight,' said Sykes. 'Germans came to the farm, Sarge, men on motorcycles, and there's a whole lot more in the village. I wondered whether you'd all heard them.'

'Not in these woods. Amazing how much trees deaden noise. Have you told anyone else?'

'No, Sarge.'

Tanner packed away his cape but kept on the jerkin, and grabbed his rifle. 'They must have been doing a quick recce of the place. I wouldn't be surprised if more of them come back. A big empty farm is always going to make a good billet. Let's find Mr Peploe.'

The lieutenant was woken and Sykes told him what they had seen.

'Sir, I'd like to go and have a look,' said Tanner. 'It may be that we can get some transport.'

'All right.' Peploe nodded.

'And I'd like to take Sykes with me, sir. He knows the way through the orchard.'

Peploe agreed. 'Just make sure you're back before one.'

The two men had not gone halfway across the field between the wood and the orchard before they heard more vehicles, and this time not just motorcycles.

'Good,' whispered Tanner.

They ran on through the orchard and up to the wall. The voices and clamour of several men mingled with the growl of engines until, one by one, the vehicles were turned off. They heard laughter from one of the stables, then