'Well, I don't know about you two,' said Peploe, 'but I haven't the faintest idea what's going on. All I know is I feel bloody exposed up here.'
'I agree, sir,' said Tanner. 'Let's get everyone out until that stonk's over.'
No sooner were the men on the track, shaking their legs and stretching, than a faint rumble that soon became a roar filled the sky. Looking up, they saw waves of bombers flying over, like a giant swarm of locusts. Moments later, bombs were falling on the eastern edges of Arras, clearly visible to their left.
'Christ - look at them all!' exclaimed Peploe.
'I've counted eighty already,' said Sykes. Soon Arras disappeared under a pall of smoke. The ground shook and the sound was deafening - but all the while the British gunners continued to rain shells on Warlus and the ridge beyond. Now the church spire had disappeared under a haze of dust.
Another company of Durhams, loaded into Bren carriers, arrived on the track from Duisans, and as the artillery barrage stopped, they were ordered forward.
A few rifle shots cracked out as the advance guard entered the village, but as the smoke and dust drifted away, it became apparent that the village was empty of enemy troops. There was heavy artillery and machine- gun fire from the south and south-east, however, beyond the ridge. They paused again by a track that led towards the church. Ahead, the road climbed sharply to the next ridge and now a Mark VI light tank sped down it, a cloud of dust following in its wake. Tanner watched with interest as it stopped near them and the man in the turret hopped out. Lieutenant-Colonel Beart now arrived in his car, climbed out and the tankman hurried over to him. He was pointing behind him, showing Beart the map, then nodding furiously. A moment later, Beart called Barclay over.
'Something's up,' said Tanner, lighting a cigarette and coughing. He got out his water-bottle and drank.
Beart was now back in his car as Barclay walked purposefully towards Peploe.
'What is it, sir?' Peploe asked.
'A devil of a job, I'm afraid. Our tanks are attacking Wailly, a couple of miles to the south-east of here.'
'I can hear them,' said Peploe.
'Yes, and you can hear enemy guns too.' He took out his map. 'It seems Jerry's got a lot of guns here, Point Three, and is stopping our advance. The tanks can't get near them. Colonel Beart wants us to send one platoon over to take out as many of those guns as possible. They reckon there are four of them, and I want you and your platoon to do it, Peploe.'
Tanner noticed Barclay couldn't look him in the eye.
Peploe swallowed. 'Very well, sir.'
'Beyond this ridge is the village of Berneville, and Point Three is across the Arras-Doullens road ahead of you. I can't tell you much more than that. It's a lot to ask, I know, but. . .'
Peploe nodded. 'We'll go straight away, sir.'
'Sooner the better.' Barclay held out a hand, which Peploe took. 'Well, you'd better be off, then. Good luck, Lieutenant.'
Two trucks and thirty-six men set off immediately, the Opels labouring as they climbed the hill. As soon as they crested the ridge, past a large water-tower, they saw drifts of smoke, and the sound of battle was suddenly closer and clearer in front of them to their left.
'There!' said Tanner, pointing to a cluster of trees on the next ridge. 'They're firing from that copse. You can see the muzzle flashes.'
A moment later a shell came down in the field just fifty yards to their right, sending up a huge fountain of earth. From behind, the men shouted as bits of stone and mud landed on and among them.
'Damn it!' shouted Tanner. 'I didn't even hear that coming. What the hell was it?'
'Everyone all right?' yelled Peploe.
'Keep bloody driving, Stan,' said Tanner. 'We need to get into this village quickly.'
The road led them down to where tightly packed buildings on each side of the street shielded them from enemy gunners. It wound left, then right out of the village, still hidden from the crest of the brow ahead by trees and banks.
'We're going to have to stop, sir,' said Tanner. 'We won't get much further in these.'
Peploe nodded. 'Pull in before the end of that line of trees, Corporal,' he said to Sykes.
The road was sunken, running between ten-foot-high verges at either side. The men got out of the trucks, then, in sections, spread out either side, and walked briskly up the gently rising ridge. As they reached the Arras-Doullens road, they stopped. Inching forward with Peploe, Tanner took out his binoculars. A track, lined by hedges, led up to a farm, about two-thirds of a mile ahead. To the left of that there was a clump of trees. The enemy guns they had to capture were somewhere within it. Tanner breathed in deeply. It was possible, he reckoned. Just about. But it wouldn't be easy.
Chapter 16
It had been around three o'clock when Sturmbannfuhrer Otto Timpke had first heard the sounds of battle to the north - dull thumps, the faint rip of machine-gun fire - and immediately his heartbeat had picked up. An impatient sense of anticipation gripped him. Where were the enemy? What was happening? He experienced a stab of irritation that, yet again, 7th Panzer might be getting all the action. They had been instructed to follow Totenkopf Infantry Regiment 3 with the battalion's Panzer 38s, but infantry and artillery units of 7th Panzer were also using the same narrow roads and, with the additional weight of refugees, progress had been agonizingly slow. For several hours they had been forced to wait in the village of Mercatel, a few miles south of Arras, until Regiment 3 appeared.
The reconnaissance battalion had made the most of the wait to refuel and collect more ammunition for their tanks from a pre-prepared supply dump. Once Timpke had overseen this, however, there had been nothing to do but wait in the village square. The smell of petrol, diesel and hastily heated rations filled the still air. He stood by his command car, an olive-grey French Army Citroen, taken the previous day in Solesmes, watching with mounting frustration as the gunfire came closer. The tepid coffee in his tin cup rippled with every boom, and he could feel the explosions pulsing beneath his feet.
He was drumming his fingers on the roof of the car and smoking French cigarettes - he had run out of Turkish - when another staff car pulled in alongside him, the rubber tyres rolling noisily across the cobbles. An army major stepped out of the passenger seat and asked for a light. 'We're not used to moving in such a big force,' he explained, gesturing towards the vehicles crawling through the village as Timpke pulled out his lighter. 'Two divisions are on the move today - so far it's been one regiment spearheading at any one time - so there's a lot more traffic than usual.' Some infantrymen were shouting at a family in a cart, trying to cross the road at the far end of the square. 'And too many damned refugees,' he added.
'Shoot at them,' Timpke suggested. 'I find that gets them moving.'
The major looked aghast. Then, clearly having decided that Timpke was joking, broke into a smile. 'Perhaps we should.'
'You should,' said Timpke, flatly. 'It would save a lot of time.'
The major smiled again, thanked him for the light, then got back into his car and drove on.