Pulling the big Boys rifle into position so that it poked through the hedge, he brought the padded shoulderpiece tight against him and lowered the front support. He had already fitted a five-round magazine and, having adjusted the backsight to two hundred yards, pulled back the bolt, lifted the safety catch and aimed straight at the enemy anti-tank gun.
'Hep, you ready with that Bren?'
'Yes, Sarge.'
'Good. The moment I fire, open up on those Jerries advancing towards the bridge, all right?'
'Sarge.'
Tanner squeezed the trigger and felt the big gun kick hard into his shoulder, then immediately fired again. To his relief, he saw both .55 bullets smack into the gun- shield and topple it. He fired another and one of the gunners was almost sheared in half. The mortar team now looked around nervously - where the hell had that come from? - but before they could react, a third bullet had ripped into the weapon. 'That's got you,' muttered Tanner. He jumped up and ran to the other side of the garden while Hepworth continued to fire short, sharp bursts from the Bren.
Peering through the other side of the hedge, Tanner saw the gun that had been firing at the attic. Quickly bringing the Boys into position again, he was conscious of bullets ripping through the hedge, and twigs being spat onto the lawn beside him. He fired several rounds, saw the bullets strike home, then called to Sykes. 'Stan - you nearly done?'
'Yes, Sarge.'
'Good, let's go. Hep, time to call it a day.' More bullets flew through the hedge, so he crawled to the side of the cottage, then turned to see Hepworth make a dash for it. He had not gone two paces before he fell forward with a cry.
'Hep!' called Tanner.
'Bastard's got me in the back of the leg!'
'All right, I'm coming to get you.' Tanner crawled back to him, grabbed his shoulders, then pulled him towards the cover of the cottage. Keeping Hepworth flat on his belly, he pulled out several field dressings, tore open the thin linen casing and wrapped them tightly round Hepworth's bleeding leg. 'We need to get him back quickly,' he said.
'Let me plant some jelly mounds in some of the vehicles, though, Sarge. You think you can carry Hep?'
'I'll have to.'
From the safety of the front of the cottage, Tanner heaved Hepworth over his shoulder and grabbed the Boys in his spare hand while Sykes took the Bren. Hurrying onto the road, praying that no German would see them, he hastened past the line of burned-out trucks to the boat, groaning at the combined weight of Hepworth, the Boys and his webbing.
'Come on, Stan!' he called, as he squatted with Hepworth on the bank.
A moment later, Sykes slid down beside him and got into the boat, which rocked. Passing him the Boys, Tanner said, 'Have you got her steady?'
'I think so.'
Tanner cursed, then almost lost his balance, with one foot in the boat and the other still on the bank. A shell hit the canal thirty yards further towards the bridge and he almost fell over again, but then, with Sykes's help, he lowered himself, Hepworth still over his shoulder, into the dinghy.
On the other side of the canal, Peploe and Ellis were there to help pull Hepworth, crying out with pain and fear, from the boat. Having passed up the weapons, Tanner and Sykes followed, then scuttled the dinghy and ran along the trench to the rear of the farmhouse.
'We knocked out a couple of anti-tank guns and a mortar,' said Tanner breathlessly, 'and Hep got some Jerry infantry but there's so many of them.'
'Like the hydra's head,' said Peploe. 'You chop off one, and more grow in its place.'
'A bit like that, yes, sir.'
Peploe took a swig from his hip-flask and offered it to Tanner. 'Calvados. I just filled up.'
'Thanks,' said Tanner, taking it.
'We've got two more wounded - two men from Ross's section. That's five now. We need to get them out of here and back to the beaches, but I can't think how.'
'Can the others walk?'
'One can.'
'Get a runner to go down to Battalion HQ. Maybe they can send a car up for them.'
'But we're already down to twenty-five men.'
'I know, but all we can do now, sir, is sit in our trenches and wait for enemy troops to appear. We can't do any more about the artillery and mortars apart from pray they don't land directly in any of our trenches.'
'All right. I'll send Ellis.'
Tanner went to see Hepworth. He was laid out with the other wounded men behind the last of the outbuildings, his face drained of colour. Smailes was with them, binding wounds and injecting morphine.
'I'm sorry, Hep,' he said.
'My fault, Sarge,' he croaked. 'Should have crawled like you.'
'At least you'll get away from here. Billy's gone to get some transport to take you to the beaches.'
Hepworth smiled weakly. 'I'd rather have stayed,' he said. 'We've been through a lot together the past few weeks.'
Tanner clasped his shoulder, then went back to the canal.
The enemy's assault on the junction with the bridge was successfully repulsed by the Coldstreams and the Rangers, and for the next few hours the German infantry made no further attempt to attack. There was, however, no let-up from their artillery and mortar teams, and shells rained down on their positions throughout the afternoon. Nonetheless, Ellis successfully reached Battalion Headquarters, and just before three o'clock two carriers made it to the back of the farm and took not only D Company's wounded but A and B Companies' too.
Unpleasant though it was to be crouching in damp, muddy trenches as mortar and artillery shells exploded around him, Tanner knew that in soft ground the enemy ordnance was, for the most part, ineffective. Plumes of water and earth ballooned into the air, but apart from a regular shower of mud, the men were safe, so long as no shell landed directly on top of them. As the afternoon wore on, he and Peploe hurried up and down the trench, making sure the men were all right and that they had enough cigarettes and food.
Most were holding up well, but Tanner was increasingly concerned for Verity, who seemed paralysed with fear in the trench to the right of the farmhouse. His face was ashen and he would accept no food, drink or cigarettes; instead, he clutched his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.
'I don't know what to do about him, sir,' Tanner said to Peploe. 'He's better off out of here, to be honest.'
'It's too late for that. We should have sent him out with the carriers.' He ducked as another shell tore into the upper part of the farmhouse amid a cloud of dust, grit and tumbling masonry. 'Hell. The poor fellow.'
'I didn't think of it then, sir,' said Tanner, 'but I'm worried he's going to be hard to shift. He can't do anything.'
'Well, I don't know what to suggest.' Peploe sighed wearily and took another swig from his flask. 'I never knew it was so exhausting being shelled like this. What do you think will happen? I can't bear the thought of us all ending up in the bag. Such a bloody waste.'