Darkest Hour

'No, Tanner. I'm the senior officer and those are my orders. Our armoured attack will no doubt take place in the morning. If we lose this ground they'll have to start all over again.'

'But, sir, how do you know there's going to be any more armour?'

'These boys are here, aren't they?' Barclay snapped. 'Now get back to your platoon, Sergeant.'

A renewed barrage of mortar fire fell on the village as Tanner loped back up the road. At one point, he flung himself to the ground as a mortar crashed forty yards from him. Then another building was burning, angry flames crackling into the sky.

'It's madness, sir,' he told Peploe, on his return. 'We're getting stonked to hell, all part of Jerry's softening-up process. Keeps us awake, hopefully causes a few casualties and frays nerves. At first light they'll send over some Stukas, and when they've gone they'll storm the place with all guns blazing. To stay here now is suicide.'

'All right, Tanner,' said Peploe, 'but this is a hell of a stonk. I reckon we're safer here than in the village. Let's wait for it to die down and then I'll talk to Captain Barclay.'

Mortars continued to rain on the village and more houses blazed. Tanner's agitation and anger grew. He knew the men felt much the same.

'This is madness, Sarge,' said Bell. 'Let's pack up and get the hell out of here.'

'Calm down, Tinker,' he said, moving on down the line.

'I'm cold and damp, tired and hungry, Sarge,' said Sykes. 'I wouldn't mind so much if I could see the point of it. Has the OC gone mad, then?'

'God knows.'

But at one a.m. news came that they were to move back into the village. One of the French carriers rumbled forward to hitch up the twenty-pounder while, muttering and cursing, the Rangers walked back down the road, rifles at the ready, circling regularly to check that no one was following them. At least a dozen houses were now ablaze and the centre of the village was lit up as though by gas-lamp. One of the captured SS trucks was also burning, destroyed by a direct hit. The air was thick with the stench of burning wood and rubber.

Men were taking cover by the vehicles, some DLI, others from 11 Platoon. Peploe told the men to wait and set off in search of Captain Barclay.

'Bloody hell, Sarge,' said Sykes, beside him. 'We need to get everyone together and bugger off sharpish. Where's old Barclay?'

'God knows,' said Tanner. He lit one of Timpke's cigarettes. 'And where's Blackstone? I can't believe he's been patiently guarding those SS-wallahs all this time.'

'There's one way to find out,' said Sykes.

Another mortar crashed near the church as they hurried across the road and into the yard. The place was dark, the glow of the flames shielded there by the walls and height of the barn. Slowly, Tanner pushed open the wooden door, which creaked on its hinges. 'Hello?' he called. Silence answered him.

'They've been moved, I reckon,' said Sykes.

'Hang on, Stan. What's that smell?' He felt into his pack, took out his torch and switched it on.

'Oh, my God,' said Sykes. 'Christ alive, what's happened here?'

'They've been shot, Stan. They've been bloody shot.'

'You mean murdered, Sarge.'

Tanner shone his torch across the prostrate bodies. Buttons undone, pockets rifled. Jesus.

'Blackstone?' said Sykes.

'Who the bloody hell else would have done it?' Tanner snapped. 'That bastard - that absolute bastard! And where the hell is he?' He strode out of the barn and back across the yard.

Two more mortars fell, one a short way behind them, another further on. Tanner ducked, but continued towards the vehicles. Barclay was there now, cowering beside one of the French tanks, Peploe too. The French officer was gesticulating - Let's go, Monsieur Capitaine.

'Sir,' Tanner said directly to Barclay, 'where are Blackstone and Slater?'

'Good God, man, can't you see I'm busy? How the devil should I know?'

'Sir,' insisted Tanner, 'they had taken charge of the prisoners. But they're not in the barn. The prisoners are and they've been shot, sir.'

'What the devil are you talking about?' said Barclay.

'Oh, Christ, no,' said Peploe. 'All of them?'

'Yes,' said Tanner. 'Every single one.'

'Show me.' Peploe turned to Barclay. 'Sir, you should come too.'

Tanner saw the panic in Barclay's face. The OC was struggling - it was clear as day. He doesn't know what to do. And now this.

'Yes - yes, all right,' he snapped. His right eyelid was twitching.

They ran back across the road and over to the barn. Once more, Tanner shone his torch upon the dead SS men.

'No,' murmured Peploe. Barclay retched and vomited,

then left them. Tanner and Peploe followed, but he waved them away, hurrying back across the road. Tanner