Darkest Hour

'No - they've gone!' He took off his cap and mopped his brow. 'It's unbelievable. The buggers have gone and forgotten us - and they've taken all the damned M/T.'

'Must have been when that shelling was going on,' said Tanner. 'We'd have heard them otherwise.'

'Well?' said Barclay, looking at Peploe.

'What, sir?'

'What do we do, damn it? I mean, I can only think of two things. Either we stay here or we head back towards Steenvoorde.'

'As I understood it, sir,' said Peploe, 'we were never supposed to be here in the first place. Major McLaren moved us here while he tried to find out where the rest of the brigade was supposed to be.'

'They certainly can't have gone west, sir, because we'd have seen them,' added Tanner, 'and we were heading for the northern front, weren't we? But we're at the southern front here. At least, it sounded like it.'

Barclay nodded. 'All right, then,' he said. 'We'll pack up and head back to Steenvoorde. See what we can find out there. Get your men ready, lieutenant.' He shook his head. 'Honestly, it's unbelievable. The whole thing's a complete cock-up.'

A quarter of an hour later, they were marching, not along the road but through a field beside it. Refugees stared at them with a mixture of resignation and resentment. To the south, guns were firing again. Tanner noticed a young woman with two children flinch in alarm, then her daughter began to cry. He wished she would stop.

' 'Ere, Sarge,' said Sykes, alongside him. 'Just thought you should know - the lads in Eleven Platoon are getting really fed up.'

'Aren't we all?'

'Yes, but they're blaming Captain Barclay.'

'How do you know?'

'I've been walking just behind some of them, listening. It's Blackstone, Sarge - he's been telling them that the OC's nerves are frayed.'

'You heard them say that, Stan?'

'Clear as day. They believe it too. And, what's more, they're not all that happy about it neither.'

'Bloody hell,' muttered Tanner. 'That's all we need, mutiny in the ranks.' Something made him pause to listen. Then Sykes heard it too.

'Aircraft.'

Both men stopped to scan the sky. 'There!' said Tanner, pointing to the east beyond Steenvoorde. A formation of aircraft was already beginning its initial dive, the roar of engines louder with every second. In moments the now familiar gull-wing and locked undercarriage of the Stuka was clear. Tanner counted twelve. 'Where are the bastards heading?' he said.

'Looks like directly at us,' said Sykes.

'I doubt it. I bet they're on the way to Cassel. They know we've got troops around there.'

'Come on, boys!' Barclay shouted from the front of their small column. 'Let's show the bastards!'

All too quickly, men were unslinging their rifles. Tanner saw a Bren gunner from 11 Platoon bring his machine-gun into his hip and aim it skywards.

'No,' said Tanner. 'No!' He ran to Peploe. 'Sir, you've got to get the men to put their weapons down.'

Already a Bren was chattering. Rifle shots were cracking out.

'Sir, please!' said Tanner again. 'We're sitting ducks out here. These things are like wasps - there's no point in making them angry. In any case, it's a waste of ammo. We'll never hit them at that height.'

Peploe looked at him - yes, you’re right - then yelled, 'Lower your weapons - lower your weapons!'

But it was too late. Some men from 11 Platoon heard him but others continued to fire, their bullets hurtling harmlessly into the sky. The Stukas were almost past when two peeled off and, rolling over, dived towards them, their death wail growing louder and louder until the planes were almost upon them, their sirens and engines seeming to envelop those on the ground below. On the road, women and children screamed and men shouted in panic, while the Rangers ran for what little cover they could find.

'Just get down and keep still!' shouted Tanner, and dropped to the ground.

As the Stukas pulled out of their dives, two lone bombs whistled towards them. The first fell on the far side of the road, the second fifty yards into the field in which the Rangers had been marching. Tanner saw two men thrown into the air by the blast. But the dive- bombers had not finished. Both were now banking sharply and turning back. Tanner watched as Captain Barclay got to his feet then, too late, realized the Stukas were swooping towards them again. Tanner could see the bombs still hanging under each wing, but they were not going to drop those. Instead, the first opened fire with a two-second burst of his machine-gun. The pilot's angle of attack was not quite right, but as he swung across the road, bullets scythed through the hedge, kicked up spits of earth, and the captain spun around, his arms flung into the air, and collapsed. As the first aircraft hurtled past, the second opened fire with another brief burst, this time hitting two more Rangers. And then they were gone, climbing away to the west. In the distance, towards Cassel, the rest of the Stukas were now diving, their sirens screaming.

Frightened civilians were dusting themselves down and getting to their feet, but as far as Tanner could tell, not a single one had been hit. He saw Peploe and Blackstone get to their feet and run towards Barclay. Tanner ran to two others who had been hit. The first was dead, the second nearly so. His face was white as chalk, and dark blood frothed at his mouth. He had been hit by at least three bullets - one in his leg, one in his stomach, the last in his chest.

Ross was running towards the crater of the second bomb and, leaving Smailes with the dying man, Tanner followed. There were two casualties. The first, Walker, a young fair-haired lad, was lying on the ground, saying, 'Am I alive? Am I alive?'

'Yes, you are, mate,' said Ross, 'but let me look at you.'

Tanner, meanwhile, had hurried to the second. He found him on his belly, and felt for a pulse. There was none. Tanner rolled him over. There was no obvious mark on him. He took off the man's helmet, and pulled open his battle-blouse and shirt, but still nothing. 'The bloody fools,' he muttered. Others had reached them now.

'What's the damage, Sarge?' said Sykes.

'Three dead. Walker seems to be fine. A lucky escape. Get the bodies back to the edge of the field,' he said. 'Iggery, all right?'

Now he ran to the prostrate Captain Barclay. Peploe was kneeling beside him, Blackstone and Slater standing over him. As Tanner reached them, Peploe looked up. 'He's gone.'

Tanner saw the stain of blood spreading across Barclay's chest. The flush in his cheeks had gone, leaving his skin pale and waxen. He crouched beside Peploe. 'There's three others dead, sir. I've told the men to bring them to the edge of the field. I suggest we carry them into the town.'

In a state of numb silence, the men tramped back into Steenvoorde and laid the four dead men by the church. The town was eerily quiet. There were no troops, although civilian refugees were now passing through. The priest emerged from the church and told them that a number of British soldiers had been there earlier and had headed out on the Poperinghe-Ypres road.

'But if I remember rightly,' said Blackstone, as they stood outside the church, 'that means they went east. The coast is that way.' He pointed. 'We should head north.'