Darkest Hour

'Confident, the Belgians, aren't they?'

'I did tell him we weren't going to stay, but he wasn't having any of it.'

Tanner's idea to lie low in the wood - suggested to the OC by Lieutenant Peploe - had been agreed by Captain Barclay, and the company now headed back down the road, leaving Tanner and Private Smailes in the tower to keep watch for any movement to the south.

They were relieved an hour later and, on reaching the wood, Tanner was pleased to see that sentries had been placed around the encampment and that their arrival was challenged. He gave the password, then heard his name called. He turned to see Slater, the company quartermaster sergeant, push through the bracken towards him. 'Tanner,' he said again, in a low, gravelly voice.

'What is it?'

'The CSM wants to see you.'

What about? 'Tell him I'll come and find him as soon as I've reported to Mr Peploe.'

'He said you were to come now.'

Tanner looked at the two young sentries, then at Smailes. 'All right,' he said. 'Smiler, tell Mr Peploe I'm with the CSM and I'll be back soon.' He was sure Blackstone wouldn't try anything now - not with so many witnesses to his whereabouts - but as he followed Slater, he unslung his rifle from his shoulder and carried it in his hand.

They found Blackstone sitting beneath an oak tree some way from the rest of the company. 'Ah, Jack,' he said, making no effort to get up.

'What do you want?' snapped Tanner. 'Make it quick, whatever it is.'

Blackstone smiled. 'Jack, don't be like that, please. I want us to make up. I've been too quick to antagonize you, I realize that, and I'm sorry.'

'For God's sake,' said Tanner, 'what do you want, Blackstone?'

'I want us to get along, Jack. I tried to put the past behind us when you first arrived in Manston but you wouldn't take the olive branch.'

'And why should I now, after all you've done?'

'What have I done, Jack?'

'You know damn well.'

Blackstone shook his head. 'All right, so maybe I've been a bit sharp towards you in front of the boss, but I can't have you undermining my authority, can I?'

'So who locked me in the storeroom?' He glared at Slater. 'And who took a shot at me on the bridge yesterday?'

Blackstone looked incredulous. 'You think I tried to kill you?' He laughed as Slater shook his head with equal disbelief. 'You're joking?'

'I saw you by the bridge. It had to be you who shot me.' He was conscious, suddenly, of how spurious the accusation now sounded.

'Jack, that's madness. There were bullets flying around everywhere. Anyone could have hit you. Yes, I fired off a few rounds, but I was trying to hit those Jerries on the ridge. Your mind's playing tricks, my friend.'

Tanner tightened his grip on his rifle.

'Trust me, Jack, the last thing I want is to see you out of the way.' He stood up now. 'I need you.'

'Jesus,' muttered Tanner.

'Hear me out, Jack. I know I've got the men eating out of my hand. They respect me and think I'm a good bloke. Most of them don't like you too much but they respect you as a soldier. And you're good, Jack, I'll give you that. Now, our problem is that the boss is an idiot who doesn't know his arse from his tit.'

Almost the same words Mac used. Tanner's heart sank.

'It's largely because of Captain Barclay,' Blackstone continued, 'that we're in this mess.'

'It wasn't his fault the rendezvous changed.'

'But it was his fault that we had to go and get his brother-in-law when the French were far closer, and it was certainly his fault that we took so long to move out of those positions. We were late for the rendezvous. We should have left with Captain Wrightson and Ten Platoon. And why we're heading to Arras when it's clear most of the BEF must be further north from here, God only knows.'

'I thought he did whatever you told him,' said Tanner.

'He did. But - dare I say it, Jack? - he hasn't been so keen on listening to me with you and Mr Peploe around. He's started to think for himself and look what's happened as a result.'

'That's bollocks,' said Tanner. He held Blackstone's eye. 'So what is it you're suggesting? Get to the bloody point.'

'I think we should split up. Let the boss and

Lieutenant Bourne-Arton take Eleven Platoon and you, me and Lieutenant Peploe take Twelve Platoon. There are too many of us at the moment. It's hard to get food and transport. And that's what we need - vehicles, so we can get out of here and find the rest of the BEF.'

Tanner took out his cigarettes and realized he had only two left. Damn, he thought, lighting one. He had to admit, there was something in what Blackstone said; the idea had crossed his mind as well.

'I'm asking you to back me up on this, Jack, that's all. Try to persuade Mr Peploe.'

'I'm tired,' he said, 'and I'm going to have a kip. But I'll think about it.'

Leaning against the cobweb-hung brickwork of the tower, Corporal Sykes peered out of the hole in the roof, a cold breeze brushing his face. A cigarette was cupped in his hand between thumb and forefinger. Now, urreptitiously, he brought it to his mouth. He knew he shouldn't be smoking while on watch, especially not when he was standing in an OP that could be seen for quite a distance, but he had to do something to keep himself awake.

Smoke swirled into the night air as he exhaled. The countryside, so different at night, was swathed in a low creamy light. The horizon could easily be seen against the night sky, as could a line of trees away to the right of the village. A barn owl screeched, but otherwise the world beyond the tower was still and seemingly at peace.

On the other side of the rickety gallery, Private Bell strained his eyes towards the wood a couple of hundred yards away in which the remainder of the company were bedded down for the night. Sykes peered at his watch.

Five past midnight - less than an hour before they were due to move off again. He yawned, and returned to staring at the unmoving night.

It was a faint rumble that first caught his attention, and then, as he brought Tanner's binoculars to his eyes, he saw, silhouetted against the horizon, a number of motorcycles heading west.

'What's that, Corp?' said Bell, hurrying across the gallery.

'Motorcycles,' said Sykes. 'And not ours neither.' He passed over the binoculars. 'They're like the ones we saw yesterday,' he said. 'Sidecar and machine-gun.' He took the binoculars back and saw the lead motorcycles turn off the main road and head straight for the village.

'Bugger it,' said Sykes. 'Tinker, we ought to get down from here. If we need to scarper in a hurry we don't want to have to muck around with rotten old ladders in the dark.'

'Too bloody right we don't, Corp,' agreed Bell.

'All right - you go first,' said Sykes. As Bell lowered himself onto the ladder, Sykes peered through the binoculars one last time and saw a larger column rumbling into view along the ridge beyond the village - armoured cars and trucks too. There they came to a halt, the low rumble of their engines audible on the still night air.