Barclay nodded dumbly.
Now Blackstone pushed past the OC and stood beside the cab of Tanner's lead truck. 'Quite a haul, Jack,' he said. 'Good of you to keep me informed.' He glowered at him, then hurried on down the line, helping men up from the bank and ordering them onto the trucks.
Tanner knew what Blackstone was saying: You still don't trust me. Well, no, he didn't. He sighed, then stood up and peered into the back. 'All right, Hep?' he said.
'Yes, Sarge,' said Hepworth, 'although these Jerry MGs don't half get hot quick. I can still feel the heat from the barrel.'
Tanner switched on his torch and flashed it around the vehicle. There were two bench seats on either side, which, he guessed, could take eight or ten men in all. Then he sat down again and shone the torch at the dashboard. It was simple, with an explanation of the gears and different drive options on a plate. Further along was another plate. So it's a Krupp. Next to him he saw a flat leather case, picked it up and opened it. Inside, he discovered some maps. He smiled to himself as he opened the first. Jesus, those Jerries were careless bastards. There was Mons and, to the south, Mauberge. Further to the west Le Cateau, Cambrai and St Quentin were all circled. Between Cambrai and Le Cateau a line had been drawn in thick pencil and beside it the number seven, written with a line across the stem of the figure, and then 'Pz'. 'Seventh Panzer,' he mouthed to himself. 7th Panzer what? Division, brigade? Corps? His eyes rested briefly on Mons again and then he scanned the map immediately to the west of the town. Where the hell were they? There was the river, and the road they had been on the previous afternoon. Then he found two possible roads that led south across the river, but only one showed woodland in the right place. Just below a village was marked as Hainin.
'Sergeant Tanner,' said a breathless voice beside him, 'how very splendid it is to see you again.'
Tanner turned to see Lieutenant Peploe climbing up beside him. 'Morning, sir.' He grinned. 'Are we ready to go?'
'Almost. Just setting up the other Bren and making sure the squadron leader's safely aboard. Captain Barclay's going to join us.'
'And Blackstone?'
'He's at the rear with McAllister, Ellis and the rest of Company Headquarters.'
Other men were now clambering into the back, the truck rolling slightly as they did so.
'Where did you find that?' said Peploe, spotting the map.
'Kindly left by Jerry. Look, sir,' he said, pointing to the tiny circle made by the closed beam of his torch, 'we're here. There's the village, and there's the road on which Sykes and I saw the German convoy yesterday.'
Peploe peered at it. 'Ye-es,' he said. 'So this is the river Haine.'
'We need to keep a wide berth around Hainin, sir,' said Tanner. 'I suggest we follow the road along the river, then cross here at Montroeul-sur-Haine. That's - what? - five miles or so, and then we can head south and rejoin the main road to Valenciennes at Quievrain.'
'Isn't that a bit risky? The enemy's already been seen on that road.'
'But it's quick, sir, and it's dark. Jerry might have changed his habits, but in Norway he liked to knock off during the night. If we do see any enemy, I reckon we'll get through - especially if we tell everyone to wear field caps and not helmets. German field caps look much the same as ours. Why would they suspect anything?'
'You don't think the word would be out?'
'Maybe. But it's a bit embarrassing for whoever's in charge. If I'd had four trucks nicked from under my nose, I know what I'd do. I'd keep quiet about it.' He pointed at the pencil markings on the map. 'If these are correct, sir, then Jerry's not at Valenciennes yet. He was just using this road as a means of getting near the front, which from this map seems to be further south. I reckon we can get through Valenciennes, then push on through this place - Denain - on to Douai and then to Arras.' He measured the distance with his finger and thumb. 'About sixty or so kilometres - what's that? Forty-odd miles. With clear roads we'll do it in a couple of hours.' He glanced at his watch. It was now just after two in the morning. 'We could be in Arras before the war starts again, sir.'
'All right, Tanner,' said Peploe, as Tanner took off his pack and set it beside him on the seat. 'You've convinced me. I'll suggest it to the OC.'
A moment later, Captain Barclay joined them. 'Damn me, Tanner, I take my hat off to you,' he muttered, shaking his head in wonderment.
'Sir, the previous owners very decently left us their map,' said Peploe. He held it open on his lap. 'I'd like to suggest this route - here.'
Barclay peered over as Peploe explained the plan, fingers tracing lines on the map. The captain followed, wearing a glazed expression.
'Good,' he said. 'Carry on, then.'
Peploe leaned behind him and said to the men in the back, 'Make sure you keep watching the truck behind, all right?'
'Well said, Peploe,' muttered Captain Barclay.
Tanner put his foot on the clutch, shoved the stick into first gear, took his other foot off the brake and the truck rumbled on into the Belgian night.
It soon began to rain, only lightly at first, then rather more heavily. Those in the Opels were under cover, but Tanner's Krupp had no covered cab or canvas tarpaulin to strap over the back. There was a single wiper on the driver's side of the windscreen, which Tanner soon discovered how to switch on, but although it worked well enough, it hardly helped make driving along dark, narrow roads any easier; as it was, the narrow slits of light from the blinkered headlamps cast only a small amount of light on the road ahead.
Tanner lifted his collar and temporarily swapped his field cap for his rimmed helmet, and then asked Peploe to take out his leather jerkin.
'Damn this rain,' muttered Captain Barclay.
'I reckon it's doing us a favour, sir,' said Tanner, as Peploe handed him the serge-lined jerkin. 'Even more likely to keep the Germans indoors.'
'Let's hope you're right, Sergeant.' The captain had been so quiet that Peploe had asked if he was feeling all right. Barclay had snapped that he was fine, then fallen back into deep thought. Now, however, he seemed to be rediscovering his voice. 'Where are we now, Peploe?' he asked. 'I can see something ahead.'
'Here, sir,' said Peploe. He switched on his torch directly over the map and pointed. 'That's the village of
Montroeul-sur-Haine. In a few miles we join the main road.'
'Should be easier driving then, sir,' said Tanner.
'All right. I'll take the map from now on,' said the captain, snatching it.
'Of course, sir,' said Peploe.
'And, Tanner, grateful though I am, I don't want you going off on your own again. Is that clear?'
'Yes, sir,' said Tanner.
'Actually, I gave them permission, sir,' said Peploe.
'Yes, well, even so,' said Barclay. 'Remember that I'm in charge, not either of you. I don't like being kept in the dark. Makes me look foolish in front of the men.'
'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,' said Tanner, mechanically, then cleared his throat. 'They were SS, sir.'
'SS? Are you sure?'