Men were taking cover by the vehicles, some DLI, others from 11 Platoon. Peploe told the men to wait and set off in search of Captain Barclay.
'Bloody hell, Sarge,' said Sykes, beside him. 'We need to get everyone together and bugger off sharpish. Where's old Barclay?'
'God knows,' said Tanner. He lit one of Timpke's cigarettes. 'And where's Blackstone? I can't believe he's been patiently guarding those SS-wallahs all this time.'
'There's one way to find out,' said Sykes.
Another mortar crashed near the church as they hurried across the road and into the yard. The place was dark, the glow of the flames shielded there by the walls and height of the barn. Slowly, Tanner pushed open the wooden door, which creaked on its hinges. 'Hello?' he called. Silence answered him.
'They've been moved, I reckon,' said Sykes.
'Hang on, Stan. What's that smell?' He felt into his pack, took out his torch and switched it on.
'Oh, my God,' said Sykes. 'Christ alive, what's happened here?'
'They've been shot, Stan. They've been bloody shot.'
'You mean murdered, Sarge.'
Tanner shone his torch across the prostrate bodies. Buttons undone, pockets rifled. Jesus.
'Blackstone?' said Sykes.
'Who the bloody hell else would have done it?' Tanner snapped. 'That bastard - that absolute bastard! And where the hell is he?' He strode out of the barn and back across the yard.
Two more mortars fell, one a short way behind them, another further on. Tanner ducked, but continued towards the vehicles. Barclay was there now, cowering beside one of the French tanks, Peploe too. The French officer was gesticulating - Let's go, Monsieur Capitaine.
'Sir,' Tanner said directly to Barclay, 'where are Blackstone and Slater?'
'Good God, man, can't you see I'm busy? How the devil should I know?'
'Sir,' insisted Tanner, 'they had taken charge of the prisoners. But they're not in the barn. The prisoners are and they've been shot, sir.'
'What the devil are you talking about?' said Barclay.
'Oh, Christ, no,' said Peploe. 'All of them?'
'Yes,' said Tanner. 'Every single one.'
'Show me.' Peploe turned to Barclay. 'Sir, you should come too.'
Tanner saw the panic in Barclay's face. The OC was struggling - it was clear as day. He doesn't know what to do. And now this.
'Yes - yes, all right,' he snapped. His right eyelid was twitching.
They ran back across the road and over to the barn. Once more, Tanner shone his torch upon the dead SS men.
'No,' murmured Peploe. Barclay retched and vomited,
then left them. Tanner and Peploe followed, but he waved them away, hurrying back across the road. Tanner watched him lean against one of the German half-tracks, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. Then he took a swig from his water-bottle, straightened and went to the tanks.
'Sir?' said Peploe, walking towards him.
'What, Lieutenant?' Barclay's hand gripped the edge of the French tank.
'The best part of forty Germans have been shot. What are we going to do about it?'
'We're going to leave.'
'But I thought you wanted to stay here.'
'I've changed my mind. We'll withdraw. Back to Chateau Duisans. Help round up the men.'
'But, sir, we can't just leave those bodies there.'
'And what else do you propose we do, Lieutenant? Bury them? How long will that take?'
'But you must find out who did this. Those men were murdered, sir.'
'Yes, but what can I do about it?' He was shaking now, his voice rising. 'We're being mortared like mad and we've lost God knows how many men. I simply can't think about that now.'
'Sir, when Tanner left those men, the CSM and Sergeant Slater were guarding them.'
Barclay looked at him with a mixture of anger and incredulity. 'Blackstone? You're saying he did this? He wasn't responsible.' He turned to Tanner. 'I do hope, Sergeant, that this is not some warped retaliation for what happened earlier.'
'Sir, really,' said Peploe. 'Sergeant Tanner hasn't accused anyone. But where are they? You have to admit it's odd they're not here.'
'Not at all,' said Barclay. 'I sent them back with Lieutenant Worthington from A Company and four of his men an hour or more ago. They took the DLI's armoured car. Worthington thought he and his little group were the only survivors of A Company. I told him he should try to get help, but he seemed a bit washed out so I told Blackstone and Slater to go with them. I wanted someone I know and trust for such a task. And, frankly, it seems to have paid off because our French friends have now arrived.'
'That doesn't mean anything, sir,' said Peploe.
'Look here,' said Barclay, prodding Peploe in the chest, 'you listen to me. Those men are dead and I cannot undo that, but I have to make sure as many of our troops get out of here as possible. That's my main concern, not the fate of forty enemy dead. You may not approve, but I can't help that. Now, get your men ready, Lieutenant. Check the far side of the church and chateau grounds for stragglers. We leave in five minutes.'
Peploe glared at Barclay. 'Yes, sir,' he said, and shouted to the men to load themselves onto the tanks and into the carriers. Tanner began to follow, then ran to the church and into the manor-house gardens. One of the outbuildings was on fire. Moving between the trees to the edge of the house, he saw figures and shouted, only to realize they were not British but German. Running for the cover of a tree, he crouched and peered around. The light of the flames was in front of him, not behind. Inexperienced enemy troops had not grasped that they were silhouetted in perfect clarity. He could see them, moving forward, half crouching between the trees. How far away were they? Forty yards? He unslung the sub-machine-gun and glanced at the length of the muzzle. It wouldn't be much use at distances of more than that but at thirty yards, he reckoned, it should do the job perfectly. 'Come on,' he whispered to himself. There were only a few - ten, perhaps, a patrol, nothing more. Cautiously, they continued forward, and then, when the lead man was just ten yards away, Tanner stepped around the tree and opened fire. He saw four men drop immediately while others dived for cover. He took a grenade from his haversack, pulled the pin and hurled it. Seconds later it exploded and a man cried out. Tanner fired another burst then ran back, through the trees and bushes, past the church until he saw the six tanks and carriers. Another mortar shell crashed behind him, near the church, but he barely flinched. He saw Sykes and Hepworth clinging to one of the tanks and Sykes held out an arm. The engines were running, clouds of exhaust fumes mixing with smoke and cordite.
'Come on, Sarge!' Sykes shouted. Tanner gripped his hand and hauled himself aboard the iron body of the tank. A moment later, it jolted and moved off.
'Not before time,' said Tanner, breathing heavily. 'Not before bloody time.'