Having reassured himself, he glanced at his watch, then saw Sykes coming towards him. 'How long have we got?'
'Two or three minutes.' He puffed out his cheeks. 'I hate the wait.'
'Got the grenades ready?'
Sykes patted his haversack - he'd undone the straps.
'Good,' said Tanner. 'There's only one way to do this.'
'Run?'
'Yes. There's plenty of trees and it's not far. We should be fine. Let's leave the motorcycles at the back alone, though. I'm going to make straight for those radio cars. You take the rear turreted one.'
'You don't think by sniping you'll make them realize we're behind them?'
'No - with the explosions and with Hep opening fire, they won't be able to tell what the hell's going on.'
The Stuka attack was lessening as aircraft flew away from the fray. The sound of machine-gun fire slackened. Tanner glanced at his watch again. 'Damn it, come on!' he muttered. Anxiety was etched across Sykes's face.
The first time-bomb exploded. Tanner saw the enemy soldiers flinch and brought his aim to the officer, whose head was still just visible among the swathe of men around him. He adjusted the distance, breathed in, held it and squeezed. The shot cracked loud and sharp among the trees, the butt of the rifle pressing back into his shoulder. The officer dropped, spraying blood. At that instant, Hepworth opened fire with the Bren. Sykes had already gone, but Tanner moved his aim to the second officer, who had initially ducked into the turret but had now poked his head out again. It was the last movement he made: Tanner pressed the trigger of his Lee-Enfield a second time.
Breathing out heavily, he took the rifle in his left hand and ran forward. Men were already scattered on the ground. Flitting between the trees, he sprinted forward. Ahead, Sykes was near the first armoured car. Movement - a soldier was hurrying back to the motorcycle and now grabbed the machine-gun. Tanner paused, pulled the rifle to his shoulder, drew back the bolt and fired as the German was swivelling the weapon towards Sykes.
Tanner sped forward. Sykes had clambered onto the back of the first armoured car. A crewman poked his head from the turret and Sykes brought down his rifle butt, jerking the man's head backwards against the circular steel rim. Then, with his teeth, Sykes pulled the pin from the grenade, dropped it inside and jumped away.
'Watch out!' yelled Tanner, as another soldier ran towards them, his pistol pointing from an outstretched arm. The grenade went off, knocking the German off- balance, and Tanner shot him at almost point-blank range, then ran on past, smashed another stunned soldier's head with a short, hard swing of his rifle butt, and leaped onto one of the radio cars as shells and bullets detonated inside the first vehicle. He dropped a grenade into the turret, then swung himself off the metal radio frame as the rear armoured car blew up.
'Bloody hell!' he said, as the blast swept over the radio car and shards of jagged metal clattered against it. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet and ran forward as the second grenade detonated, shrapnel rattling. Ahead, he saw dazed men getting to their feet, so he took another grenade, pulled the pin, hurled it towards them and leaped onto the next radio car. A driver raised his head and a pistol but Tanner ducked and the bullets fizzed uselessly over his head. Cocking his rifle, he stood up and fired, hitting the man in the neck. He went down amid a fountain of blood. As Tanner jumped onto the back of the vehicle, another German appeared round the side, aimed his rifle, then fell backwards with a cry as a rake of bullets from Hepworth's Bren hit him. Tanner threw another grenade into the car, jumped off and realized the Bren had stopped firing.
'Hep!' he shouted, as he crouched by the side of the fourth armoured vehicle. 'Hep! Why have you stopped firing?' With his rifle ready, pulled into his shoulder, he sprang out in front of the car only to meet Sykes with a German pistol in his hand. Ammunition inside the vehicle behind them was going off like fireworks, so they got down, waiting for the next blast.
'There's no one left to shoot, Sarge,' said Sykes. 'Look.'
Bodies were strewn across the road, blood seeping into the grit and dust. The smell, mixed with the pungent stench of explosives, petrol and burning rubber, was sickening, and Tanner's stomach tightened. The motorcycles were ruined. Two were burning, while the others stood awkwardly, riddled with bullet holes. Seven stunned Germans staggered in front of them, their arms raised in surrender. Bullets were still detonating in the armoured car behind them, whistling and pinging as they ricocheted around.
Tanner got to his feet. 'Right,' he said. 'We need to move. We can't be sure this lot were the only recce troops around here.'
'What about the prisoners?' asked Sykes, as Hepworth, eyes wide and disbelieving, came towards them.
Tanner tutted. 'We should probably take them with us.' The lead armoured car was still untouched, save for a few dents from Hepworth's bullets. The tyres were also undamaged. 'We could take this. Make them sit on the outside. One of us can drive, another watch them from the turret and the other ride one of their motorcycles. Check them for weapons, then get them to move this lot off the road. And give them some beadies. Poor bastards've just lost their mates.'
Tanner stepped around the bodies and walked a little way along the track until he could look down to the canal. A thick pall of smoke hung heavily over the French positions and was drifting in front of their own lines, but he could hear vehicles starting up. Then another explosion ripped through the air and he saw the bridge across the lock disappear in an eruption of smoke, dust and debris.
'Bollocks,' he muttered. Then he saw that the bridge at Oisquercq had been blown so that only its stone struts still stood, lonely columns jutting out of the water. Amid the fury of their small battle, he had not heard it go up. He reached for his binoculars. A hole had been blown in the bridge over which they had come; the iron fencing stood bent and twisted. But the gallery directly beneath it, which stood sentinel over the lock, remained intact. He realized that the charges under the structure must have failed and that the crater on the bridge must have been caused by a poorly aimed bomb. He reckoned that any vehicle would struggle to cross it, but they themselves would still get over. Now he let his eyes rest on the farm. The roof of the house had collapsed, rubble and broken tiles heaped in the yard. Behind, a number of vehicles stood burning and broken. There was no sign of life. He lowered his binoculars, then brought them back to his eyes. Yes, there could be no doubting it. Columns of men and vehicles were trailing west. The French were pulling back.