Torwinski nodded again, then spoke in Polish. 'What do you want with us?' he said, conscious of the tremor in his voice. A fist pounded into his face and he gasped.
'I told you not to speak,' said the same voice again. 'Now get dressed.'
Torwinski did as he was ordered. Quivering fingers fumbled at buttons. His head felt light, his brain disoriented. There were several men, but how many exactly, he could not be certain.
'Hurry!' hissed the voice, then the torch was flashed on again.
Torwinski squinted in the sudden light then glanced briefly at the other two - Kasprowicz grimacing angrily, Ormicki with terror on his face. As Torwinski bent to tie his laces, he was shoved forward. Stumbling, he was grabbed by the collar and pushed roughly towards the door and out into the night. 'Where are you taking us?' he said. 'What do you want with us?'
Hearing his comrade speak, Ormicki began to ask Torwinski questions and also received a blow to the head.
'I told you,' said the man, in a low, steady voice, 'to bloody well keep quiet. Now shut up - I don't want to hear another sound.'
'Why don't we gag them?' said another.
'You can keep your bloody trap shut an' all,' said the first man. 'Now come on, let's get going.'
Slowly, Torwinski's eyes adjusted to the night light. There was no moon, but the sky was clear and millions of stars cast an ethereal glow so that he could see the dark shapes of the huts, the trees near by and the track that led towards the Northern Grass. His heart was hammering as they stumbled on in silence. There were four men, one ahead, the other three behind. All wore their helmets low over their eyes so that it was impossible to tell who they were or what they looked like other than that they appeared to be and sounded like British soldiers.
Torwinski prayed they might see someone else - a late-working mechanic or a guard, perhaps. He was certain that whatever these men wanted with them it was not authorized. How could it be? What had they possibly done wrong? He could think of nothing. But not a soul stirred. As they neared the Northern Grass, a row of Hurricanes loomed in front of them, but then they were pushed to the left, along the airfield road until they reached a series of stores and a parked lorry, which, from the cylindrical shape of its load, Torwinski recognized as a fuel bowser.
'Get in,' growled the first man, opening the cab door. Torwinski climbed up, the other two following. The same question kept repeating in his mind. What can they want with us? His stomach churned and sweat ran down his back, chilling him. Inside the cab it was darker again, and one of the soldiers opened the other door. Torwinski turned to look, and as he did so the butt of a rifle was driven into the side of his head. His vision and other senses left him. By the time he had slumped forward against the dashboard, Ormicki and Kasprowicz had been knocked cold too.
Standing on the cliffs at White Ness just a few hundred yards north of Kingsgate Castle, Sergeant Tanner had been staring out to sea when he heard a lorry, followed by muffled yells from the men guarding the roadblock.
'What the hell?' he murmured and, calling Hepworth and Bennett, one of the new men, he ran towards the main road that led to Kingsgate. He could hear the lorry thundering onwards, then saw the slit of beam from the blackout headlights as it approached the bend in the road before the castle.
'What the bloody 'ell's going on, Sarge?' said Hepworth, breathlessly.
'Some damn fool's driven right through our sodding checkpoint,' Tanner replied. Standing in the long grass at the side of the road, he unslung his rifle and levelled it towards the bend.
'What are you going to do, Sarge?' asked Bennett.
'Shoot the bastard's tyre.'
'Do you think it's a Jerry?' Bennett was young, only eighteen.
Before Tanner could reply, the lorry ploughed straight on at the bend, smashing through a fence and a hedge and crashing to a standstill as it hit a tree.
Immediately Tanner was sprinting down the road, Hepworth and Bennett following. As he leaped through the hole in the fence and hedge, he heard groaning from the cab, then saw a figure stumble out, stagger across the young green shoots of corn and collapse.
Hurrying to the prostrate figure, Tanner knelt beside him and put his ear to the man's mouth.
'Ormicki and Kasprowicz,' the man mumbled.
'What?'
'In the lorry,' slurred the man. 'They are in the lorry.'
Christ, thought Tanner. Hepworth and Bennett were beside him now and shouts were coming from the road. He stood up and was about to hurry over to the ticking lorry when there was an explosion and the vehicle was engulfed in flames.
'No!' groaned the man. 'No!' Tanner dived back to the ground. The flames now lit the sky, and as the sergeant raised his head he saw the shape of two men engulfed in the inferno.
'Let's get out of here,' he said and, with Hepworth's help, hoisted the man to his feet. 'Here, Hep, grab my rifle, will you?' he said. He lifted the man onto his shoulder and carried him across the field to the road. There, they met Lieutenant Peploe and Corporal Sykes.
'A petrol bowser, sir,' said Tanner, as he laid the man carefully on the verge. 'Two dead by the look of it.'
'Bloody hell!' said Peploe. 'What a stupid waste. Our fuel thieves?'
Tanner shrugged. 'Maybe. Here, Hep, shine your torch on him, will you?' He looked down at the man, and saw a livid gash across his forehead. Blood was running freely down the side of his face. Quickly, Tanner delved into his pocket for a field dressing, tore it open and took out the first bandage. He pressed it against the wound, then wrapped the second around the man's head. 'Where are you hurt?' he asked.
'I'm all right,' murmured the man, making an effort to sit up.
'Steady there,' said Tanner. 'Just stay where you are for the moment.' He peered up at Peploe, standing
beside him. 'At the very least this cut needs attention, sir. We should get him to the MO.'
'I'll run down to the hotel,' said Peploe, 'and use their phone to get an ambulance and a fire-wagon. Hepworth, go back to the checkpoint and get the truck. I'll meet you back here.'
'That fire will burn itself out before a fire-wagon can get here, sir.'
'You're probably right, but I still need to report this straight away.'
Tanner nodded. 'Shall I organize another roadblock here, sir? We don't want anyone going near the site, do we?'
'Good idea, Sergeant.'
When the lieutenant had gone, Tanner turned to Sykes and said, 'So why the hell wasn't he stopped at the checkpoint?'
'He just went straight through, Sarge. Nearly knocked Mr Peploe over.'
Tanner sighed, then turned back to the man lying on the ground. 'Can you hear me?'
The man groaned.
'What's your name?'
'Torwinski,' murmured the man. 'I am from Poland.'
'And the other two?'
'Yes - also Poles.'
'That fuel lark you was tellin' me about,' Sykes said, turning to Tanner. 'Perhaps the CSM was right.'