A glance at Ross, who raised his thumb. Good, thought Tanner. Bren in position. He motioned to McAllister to move beside him - he needed that Bren at the van of their movement. 'Mac, I'm going to count to three,' he said. 'Then we're going to make a dash for it.'
McAllister nodded, and gripped his Bren with both hands.
'One, two - three!' They were up and running down the shallow grass bank. Tanner scanned the hollow - glimpses of men gathered round the guns in a web of shadows. The big howitzers fired in turn, the recoil sending them lurching back on their wheels. Tanner gasped as he scrambled up the other slope. A shout - German - Damn, we've been spotted - and Ross's Bren opened fire. Tanner was conscious, from the corner of his eye, of men falling.
Rifles cracked - a yell - then Tanner urged his men on. Past several trees and then another gap, giving a view down into the pit of the hollow. Keep going, keep going. He was now on the other side of the hollow. The chatter of Bren fire behind, snapping rifle fire, bullets zipping, leaves and branches sliced by their passage. McAllister was still with him - good - and then, up ahead, across a narrow pasture, he saw men crouch-running among a further clump of bushes. A second later he heard the burp of a machine-gun and bullets penetrating the branches behind.
He raised his rifle, saw one two-man team through his scope, pulled back the bolt and fired. A head jerked backwards. More bullets spat and this time their height was better. Where were they coming from? Someone cried out, and Tanner flung himself to the ground, conscious of McAllister dropping onto the grass too, the bipod on his Bren already pulled out into place beforehand. Good lad. Bullets tore over his head - long bursts that were supposed to rake the ground but were firing high. Barrel's overheating. Gingerly he lifted his head.
Another burst of fire and this time he saw them, the dark shapes of the men manning them, a faint muzzle, from the direction of some bushes dead ahead, by the track that ran in front of the whole position. He brought his cheek to the butt of his rifle and peered through the scope, drew back the bolt and fired. Another man jerked backwards, and for a moment the splutter of bullets stopped.
Tanner leaped to his feet again, and hurtled across the grass towards the bushes. Grabbing a grenade, he pulled the pin and hurled it at the enemy machine-gun, then drew his rifle to his shoulder once more. Movement - a man crouch-hurrying ahead - another trying desperately to get behind the momentarily abandoned MG. Bolt back, fire - the grenade exploded - a man screamed and Tanner fired again. He sprinted to the MG, saw another man stretching for the weapon, kicked him out of the way, then dived into the shallow pit, lifted the machine- gun and, unable to hold the barrel because of the heat, let it plunge to the ground, drew back the bolt and fired towards the big anti-tank guns.
Bullets pinged off the metal but he was aware that none of the guns was firing now. Had they done it? He could still hear Bren and rifle fire but he couldn't see any enemy troops.
Sykes was beside him now. 'I think we've got 'em all, Sarge,' he said, between gasps for breath.
'Maybe,' muttered Tanner. Pushing himself to his feet, he said, 'Cover me,' then dashed forward to the first of the big anti-tank guns. Ten yards from it he hurled another grenade. As it landed, a terrified gunner stood up and ran for cover in the trees. Tanner raised his rifle and fired, the man falling forwards and tumbling down the sides of the hollow with a scream. He ran to the next gun and there saw Lieutenant Peploe, a stunned expression on his face. They had encircled the position.
'Hold your fire!' Tanner shouted, then turned to the lieutenant. 'Are you all right, sir?'
'I think so, Sergeant.' He laughed. 'Christ, I don't believe it - we've bloody done it! We've bloody well gone and done it!'
Tanner grinned, then wished he hadn't as his lip cracked again. 'They'll be coming up from the vehicles, sir, and maybe even the village. We need to be quick.'
'Why don't we use those vehicles?' suggested Peploe.
'Good idea, sir. Perhaps you should do that while Sykes and I make sure no one uses these guns again.'
'Yes. I'll come back straight up this track here. Meet you by the farmhouse.' He loped off, shouting to Cooper and Ross. When Tanner turned, he saw that, without prompting, the corporal was taking out a cartridge of Nobel's, sticking in a small stretch of fuse, then lighting it and placing it in the muzzle of the first big gun. Thirty seconds later, it exploded amid a cloud of smoke and a hollow, tinny clang.
More Bren and rifle fire a short distance behind. The lieutenant's attempt to capture some transport. But Tanner now had his rifle slung on his shoulder and his binoculars to his eyes. Heart plummeting, he saw that the British tanks were no longer advancing. A number had ground to a halt, some burning, others less obviously disabled. Two stood smoking on the ridge a short way to his right. Heavy firing was still coming from the village behind and to the right, but he could see now that other tanks were pulling back, weaving slowly across the open farmland between the two ridges.
'Damn it all,' muttered Tanner. They had silenced the guns but too late. No wonder that general had buggered off. He must have known he'd halted the attack. Damn, damn, damn. Then movement to his left caught his eye. He swung round with his binoculars and saw, heading north to the west of Berneville, a long column of enemy troops. He looked at the second of the big guns. How hard could it be to fire one of those things? He hurried over to it.
Three men lay sprawled around it, one staring up at him with wide, lifeless eyes. Large wooden shell boxes stood a short distance away. Could they really fire at that column?
'Boys!' he called. 'Here - quick!' He peered through his binoculars again. Some panzers and several halftracks were advancing over the rolling fields towards Berneville. He looked for their own transport, but they had done a good job: they were hidden from view. Christ, not only had they silenced the guns too late, they were in danger of being cut off, stuck behind enemy lines.
'Sarge?' said McAllister.
Tanner looked at them. McAllister, Verity, Bell, Chambers and Kershaw. 'Where's Hepworth?'
'Helping the corp,' said Kershaw. A moment later there came another explosion as one of the howitzers was blown.
'Denning and Rhodes?'
'Both dead, Sarge,' said McAllister. 'Stupid idiots didn't get down quick enough when that second Spandau opened up.'
Two young men gone. Tanner sighed. And for what? He picked up a stone and hurled it angrily. 'We're going to try and fire this bastard.'
'How do we do that, Sarge?'
'Dunno,' said Tanner. He went over to the box, took out a long, heavy, twenty-pound shell and pushed it into the open breech.
'Shouldn't there be a door or something to hold it in place, Sarge?' said McAllister.