Darkest Hour

'Sergeant Tanner's got a plan of attack,' he said to them. 'Sergeant?'

Briefly, Tanner explained the layout of the farm and copse. 'Rosso,' he said to Corporal Ross, 'you head out first and put your section in the bushes in front of the farm. Make sure your Bren has a really clear line of fire. Stan, I'll come with your lads round the back. Hopefully we can cross the gap without being spotted, but if we are, Rosso's section can keep them busy. At the same time, sir, you lead Cooper's section around the other side.'

'Like Hannibal at Cannae,' said Peploe. Seeing Tanner's puzzled expression, he said, 'A pincer movement. Hit hard at the front and envelop either side.'

'Exactly, sir. But, Rosso, it's important your boys don't open fire until Stan and I have got past. Sir, your lot must move under the cover of Rosso's fire - but you can use the bushes and there are some outbuildings that'll give cover. Speed and weight of fire is the key to this.'

'Good,' said Peploe. He was pale, his eyes darting from one to another. 'Brief your men and then let's go. Corporal Ross, as soon as you're ready.'

'One minute, sir,' said Tanner. His heart was hammering again. Shaky hands undid the clips on his ammunition pouches. From his respirator bag he produced half a dozen hand grenades, which he stuffed into his deep trouser pockets for ease of access. 'Then he walked down the line of men. Knuckles showed white around rifles, eyes stared at him. Men bit their lips. 'You'll be fine, lads,' said Tanner. 'Now iggery, all right? Once the shooting starts, keep moving. They're only bloody gunners so they'll all be deaf as posts and won't hear you coming.'

It was nearly six o'clock. He looked at the lieutenant, who nodded to him, then patted Ross's shoulder. He watched the corporal breathe in deeply, then turn the corner of the barn and sprint across the yard to the edge of the house, the rest of his section following. Tanner winked at Corporal Cooper, then said to Sykes, 'Right, Stan, let's go.'

Clutching his rifle in his right hand, he ran across the open yard, the dust kicked up from Ross's section catching in his mouth. As he rounded the end of the house he was relieved to see Ross's men already diving for cover among the bushes that perched on the lip of the hollow. He could now see the route into the quarry. Sykes had been right - it was quite a drop, some ten or twelve feet deep, and they'd have to scramble down and up the other bank. He breathed out, then waved at the rest of the section to hurry.

A glance at Ross, who raised his thumb. Good, thought Tanner. Bren in position. He motioned to McAllister to move beside him - he needed that Bren at the van of their movement. 'Mac, I'm going to count to three,' he said. 'Then we're going to make a dash for it.'

McAllister nodded, and gripped his Bren with both hands.

'One, two - three!' They were up and running down the shallow grass bank. Tanner scanned the hollow - glimpses of men gathered round the guns in a web of shadows. The big howitzers fired in turn, the recoil sending them lurching back on their wheels. Tanner gasped as he scrambled up the other slope. A shout - German - Damn, we've been spotted - and Ross's Bren opened fire. Tanner was conscious, from the corner of his eye, of men falling.

Rifles cracked - a yell - then Tanner urged his men on. Past several trees and then another gap, giving a view down into the pit of the hollow. Keep going, keep going. He was now on the other side of the hollow. The chatter of Bren fire behind, snapping rifle fire, bullets zipping, leaves and branches sliced by their passage. McAllister was still with him - good - and then, up ahead, across a narrow pasture, he saw men crouch-running among a further clump of bushes. A second later he heard the burp of a machine-gun and bullets penetrating the branches behind.

He raised his rifle, saw one two-man team through his scope, pulled back the bolt and fired. A head jerked backwards. More bullets spat and this time their height was better. Where were they coming from? Someone cried out, and Tanner flung himself to the ground, conscious of McAllister dropping onto the grass too, the bipod on his Bren already pulled out into place beforehand. Good lad. Bullets tore over his head - long bursts that were supposed to rake the ground but were firing high. Barrel's overheating. Gingerly he lifted his head.

Another burst of fire and this time he saw them, the dark shapes of the men manning them, a faint muzzle, from the direction of some bushes dead ahead, by the track that ran in front of the whole position. He brought his cheek to the butt of his rifle and peered through the scope, drew back the bolt and fired. Another man jerked backwards, and for a moment the splutter of bullets stopped.

Tanner leaped to his feet again, and hurtled across the grass towards the bushes. Grabbing a grenade, he pulled the pin and hurled it at the enemy machine-gun, then drew his rifle to his shoulder once more. Movement - a man crouch-hurrying ahead - another trying desperately to get behind the momentarily abandoned MG. Bolt back, fire - the grenade exploded - a man screamed and Tanner fired again. He sprinted to the MG, saw another man stretching for the weapon, kicked him out of the way, then dived into the shallow pit, lifted the machine- gun and, unable to hold the barrel because of the heat, let it plunge to the ground, drew back the bolt and fired towards the big anti-tank guns.

Bullets pinged off the metal but he was aware that none of the guns was firing now. Had they done it? He could still hear Bren and rifle fire but he couldn't see any enemy troops.

Sykes was beside him now. 'I think we've got 'em all, Sarge,' he said, between gasps for breath.

'Maybe,' muttered Tanner. Pushing himself to his feet, he said, 'Cover me,' then dashed forward to the first of the big anti-tank guns. Ten yards from it he hurled another grenade. As it landed, a terrified gunner stood up and ran for cover in the trees. Tanner raised his rifle and fired, the man falling forwards and tumbling down the sides of the hollow with a scream. He ran to the next gun and there saw Lieutenant Peploe, a stunned expression on his face. They had encircled the position.

'Hold your fire!' Tanner shouted, then turned to the lieutenant. 'Are you all right, sir?'

'I think so, Sergeant.' He laughed. 'Christ, I don't believe it - we've bloody done it! We've bloody well gone and done it!'

Tanner grinned, then wished he hadn't as his lip cracked again. 'They'll be coming up from the vehicles, sir, and maybe even the village. We need to be quick.'

'Why don't we use those vehicles?' suggested Peploe.

'Good idea, sir. Perhaps you should do that while Sykes and I make sure no one uses these guns again.'

'Yes. I'll come back straight up this track here. Meet you by the farmhouse.' He loped off, shouting to Cooper and Ross. When Tanner turned, he saw that, without prompting, the corporal was taking out a cartridge of Nobel's,