'I don't know, sir. But I'm sure Jerry's preparing for another attack. Maybe we'll hold him again, but we can't keep on doing so for ever. There's simply too many of them and not enough of us.'
The attack, when it came, was every bit as hard as Tanner had known it would be. Just after six o'clock, enemy troops were spotted moving to their front, and soon after, bursts of machine-gun fire were spitting towards them. The battle for the canal had begun once more and time was running out for the defenders. Fast.
Chapter 24
'This is no good, sir,' said Tanner to Lieutenant Peploe as bullets hammered into the mound of earth immediately in front of them. 'I need some height.'
They were in the trench beside the farmhouse and although the barn to the rear was now completely destroyed, Tanner reckoned the main house still offered some decent firing positions. 'Sir,' he continued, 'if it's all right with you, I think it's time to risk going back into the farmhouse. I'll do some sniping from the first-floor windows.'
'What about getting some Brens up there too?' said Peploe.
'Good idea, sir. We've still got some ammo left.'
'Right - use Sykes's section. Get a couple of men up there with the boxes of ammunition and two more on the Brens. I'll stay here with Cooper and Ross's sections.'
As the enemy infantry advanced closer to the canal, the artillery lifted their fire deeper into the perimeter, so that now it was just small-arms and mortars that were directed at the defenders. Even so, as Tanner ran along the trench to the back of the farmhouse, he could hear bullets snapping into the brickwork. Bursting through the back door, he ran to the staircase as another bullet pinged through a broken ground-floor window and ricocheted off the hall wall next to him. Upstairs, the roof and most of the first-floor ceiling had collapsed, but the walls were thick and looked firm. Entering a now open- roofed bedroom, he ran to the window, cleared the worst of the broken glass out of his way with his boot, crouched and drew his rifle to his shoulder, resting the barrel on the window ledge.
Platoons of men were advancing across the ground in front of him, using as cover the young corn in the fields, the lines of poplars and willows and the raised banks at either side of the approach roads. He saw a machine-gun team hurry forward alongside the road on the left that led towards the canal, then drop to the ground beside a poplar and set themselves up to cover their comrades' advance. Immediately, he drew a bead, aiming at the head of the man now feeding a belt into the breech. Even without his scope he could see the figures distinctly, although their features were not clear. The light was still bright, he was looking slightly down at the two men, and the ground between them was level - all factors that could lead to underestimating distance. Taking that into account, he guessed they were around three hundred and twenty yards away. Quickly adjusting the range drum on the scope to three hundred yards, he peered through the lens, fractionally raised the point of aim, let his finger squeeze until it reached the first point of pressure on the trigger. Holding his breath, he gripped the rifle tightly and pressed hard against the second pressure point. A crack, a jolt, and the first man rolled over. Pulling back the bolt, he aimed at the second. The enemy soldier was now twisting his head round in panic - a sniper or a lucky shot? - so Tanner aimed at his body, rather than his head. Aim, breathe out, steady, squeeze the trigger. As the Enfield cracked out shrilly in the narrow room, the second man slumped forward, as dead as his comrade.
He drew back the bolt again, aimed and fired, and again and again, using his scope to spot officers and NCOs. Although he was not entirely certain what the German uniforms and insignia denoted, officers were easy enough to spot, with their leather holsters and baggy twill breeches - he wondered why armies insisted on making their officers so damned obvious. German NCOs wore chevrons on the upper sleeves similar to their own, although on a triangular black patch. He reckoned he'd felled at least seven men with his first magazine, including an officer, one NCO and the machine-gun team.
As he had been firing, the others had joined him, McAllister and Sykes setting down Brens at the windows along the front of the house. Kershaw and Bell were bringing in boxes of ammunition and unloading Bren magazines. Already, the open rooms were heavy with cordite, which irritated the back of their throats.
'Thank God the roof's blown off, Sarge,' said Kershaw. 'Gives us a bit of fresh air.'
'Call that fresh?' said Tanner, pressing two more five- round clips into his magazine. The two Brens were chattering now.
'Watch it, Stan,' warned Tanner. 'Short, sharp bursts, all right? We need to keep those weapons working - can't afford to overheat them.'
'We could do with another bucket of water, Sarge,' said Sykes.
'Do you want me to find one?' asked Bell.
'Yes - but keep your bloody head down back there.'
Now the enemy had located them, so machine-gun and rifle bullets were whacking into the walls. Tanner peered around the edge of his window, then jerked back as a bullet hissed past his shoulder and struck the wall behind him. Then, inching around the window-frame again, he saw more men crouch-running down the track on their left that led to the canal.
'Stan, get a burst over here,' he shouted. 'Those bastards nearing the road, ten o'clock.' He fired, then noticed another stream of Germans scurrying towards the cottage on the far side of the canal, no more than a hundred and thirty yards away. He adjusted his scope. All along the canal to the ruined bridge the Rangers were firing, Brens and rifles cracking out, bullets from both sides whining across the narrow stretch of water. Most, he guessed, were passing high - he could even see a line of German tracer arcing well over the trenches. He had been right to try to gain height; the only danger now, he reckoned, came from a stray bullet or mortars, which had yet to be directed towards them.
He fired again towards the men approaching the cottage, then saw several make a gap in the hedge into the garden, then more hurrying through. 'Go on,' he muttered, then called, 'Stan, they're in the cottage garden.'
Sykes stopped firing and pulled the magazine from the top of the weapon. He crawled across the floor to Tanner. 'I've got to see this.'
A moment later a huge explosion ripped apart the sky and the cottage disappeared behind a livid ball of flame. For a brief moment, the firing along their section of the line stopped as soldiers on both sides, caught off-guard by the detonation, paused to take cover from the debris. Quickly, Tanner brought his rifle to his shoulder and picked off another handful of startled enemy soldiers.
'I reckon that was one of my better ones.' Sykes grinned. 'Nice little bang, that.'
The Germans' assault faltered, as men took cover in the fields and behind buildings further back from the road, towards L'Avenir. It gave the defenders a brief chance of a breather. The Brens cooled, more magazines were loaded, and Tanner sent Ellis and Kershaw downstairs to find some food and drink. They returned a short while later with several tins of bully beef, condensed milk, a tin of jam and some biscuits. Tanner opened one of the cans of milk, drank some, then crushed a handful of biscuits into the remainder and added a large dollop of jam. Stirring it all together, he began to spoon it hungrily into his mouth. 'I needed this,' he said.