'No, sir.'
'They've thrown in the towel. Yesterday evening, just like that. The whole of Third Div had to move last night from south of here to north of Ypres to fill the gap in the line. They did it, though. Bloody miracle.'
There was a feverish atmosphere inside the farmhouse. Brigade staff had been whittled down to a bare minimum, which meant every man had more work than he could reasonably manage. A map was spread on a table in the kitchen and Peploe saw the brigadier and his GSO 1 standing over it. Despatch riders hurried in and out, delivering and taking messages. Every so often a shell landed uncomfortably close and the house shook. Peploe noticed a pile of plaster on the floor in the kitchen. And there was an almost choking quantity of cigarette and pipe smoke.
Another despatch rider came in and passed a message to the brigadier, who read it with a faint smile. He was a lean-faced man, with slightly hooded, intelligent eyes and a fair moustache. Looking up, he noticed Peploe and extended his hand. 'Hello,' he said. 'Brigadier Dempsey. And who are you?'
'Second Lieutenant John Peploe, D Company, First Battalion, Yorkshire Rangers. How do you do, sir?'
'D Company were cut off from the rest of the battalion eleven days ago, sir,' said Ross. 'They fought alongside Eighth DLI at Arras and on La Bassee canal, got cut off again, but have eventually found us here.'
'That's rather impressive, Peploe,' said Dempsey. 'I think most people in your boat would have hot-footed it straight to Dunkirk.' He scratched the back of his neck. 'I'm afraid poor comms have been one of the biggest failings in this campaign. Anyway,' he smiled, 'while I hate to make you go back the way you came, that's exactly what I'm going to do. We're about to withdraw - it seems we've done what was needed here, thank goodness, and we're now the last in the line. Most of the brigade are to head to the river Yser and from there fall back within the Dunkirk perimeter, but the Yorkshire Rangers are being transferred.'
'To where, sir?'
'First Guards Brigade. You see, Lieutenant, although your lot are down to just over two hundred and fifty men, that's a bit more than the Wiltshires and quite a bit more than the Inniskillings and Cameronians. Just luck, really - the Yorkshire Rangers have had a less busy time than the other battalions in the brigade. Your task will be to help hold the Dunkirk perimeter until all the other troops have safely passed through.'
'And been evacuated.'
'Well, that's the general idea at any rate,' continued Dempsey. 'I'm sorry, it's rather a devil of a job.'
'There's M/T waiting a couple of miles from here on the far side of Mount Kemmel,' added Ross. 'It'll be a bit of a squeeze, but better than walking, I'd say.'
'And when will we be leaving?' asked Peploe.
'We're expecting Colonel Corner and the battalion at any moment.'
Brigadier Dempsey shook Peploe's hand. 'Good luck, Lieutenant,' he said, 'and pass on my best wishes to your men. I hope our paths cross again.'
The journey north was desperately slow. The thirty-four men of D Company as well as a much depleted seven- man platoon from A Company were crammed into one Bedford OY truck, and since the A Company platoon commander, Lieutenant Lightfoot, was one of the seven, Tanner was forced to squeeze into the back with the rest of the other ranks. Every road they took was clogged with troops, and while the British tried to head north, the French, many of whom travelled by horse-drawn cart, seemed to be cutting across them to the west. And still there were refugees with their barrows and carts, bicycles and pitiful piles of belongings. It was as though the whole of northern France was on the move.
Poperinghe had looked badly knocked about when D Company had passed through earlier, but by dusk it was worse. Rubble had spilled into the streets and had been only partially cleared, while the main bridge across the canal was cratered in two places. British sappers were trying to repair it while around them the traffic ground to a confused halt. From the back of the truck, Tanner peered out at the darkening skies and prayed the Luftwaffe had called a halt for the day; they would find rich pickings in Poperinghe.
By the time they had eventually got through the town, it was dark. Progress was hardly much faster, however, the truck jerking forward, then frequently coming to a halt, sometimes for a few minutes, often for much longer. As the first streaks of dawn appeared, it was clear that the battalion's column had become separated, so that when they eventually halted for good at Rexpoede, a village half a dozen miles south of the perimeter, C Company and half of B Company had been caught up in the traffic stream heading for Dunkirk and were nowhere to be seen. Instead of supporting the 1st Guards Brigade with two hundred and fifty men, they were now only around a hundred and forty strong.
Tanner had barely slept - the crammed, jolting truck had been too much even for him. All the men were exhausted but especially those from the rest of the battalion. He watched the men of A Company lead off. Most would have been just boys a few weeks before but nearly three weeks of war had aged them - three weeks of marching hundreds of miles, of being shelled, bombed and shot at, of retreating, of getting too little sleep and not enough food. Dark rings framed hollow eyes; smudges of oil and grime covered their faces. Uniforms were filthy, and often torn. They stank, too.
Ahead lay countryside that was as flat as a board. Rows of poplars and willows lined the hundreds of dykes and waterways. Here and there red-brick farmhouses rose against the skyline. Above, thunderous skies rolled - rain again in the air - while on the horizon, for all to see, there were thick clouds of oily smoke, drifting high above the coastline.
'So that's Dunkirk,' Sykes said to Tanner. 'Charmin' lookin' place.' He began to sing, ' "Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside . . ."'
Tanner laughed, then Hepworth and McAllister joined in, and in a few moments the whole company was bellowing it out, singing the same verse over and over again.
'Sarge?' said Hepworth, when they had eventually stopped, 'do you think there'll be donkey rides and a band and everything?'
'Probably, Hep. Deck-chairs for hire and fish and chips.'
They reached the Bergues-Furnes canal just before eleven o'clock. 'Jesus, Stan,' said Tanner, gazing at the mass of abandoned vehicles that ran the length of the road. 'Will you look at that?'
'We need to get scavenging, Sarge.'
'There better be something worth nicking, because I tell you, Stan, that lot are going to be more useful to the enemy than to us.'
'But surely they've been immobilized, Sarge,' said Hepworth. 'No one's going to be stupid enough to leave them for Jerry to use.'
'Not to drive, Hep,' said Tanner, 'but as cover. Look at this place. It's flat as a pancake, and here's a long line of British Army trucks to help Jerry as he crawls up to the canal. Bloody hell, it's enough to make you weep. I tell you, there's not enough thinking ahead around here.'
Colonel Corner was waiting for them on the bridge, so the men were given the order to fall out along the road while the battalion OC had a conference with the company commanders. 'I don't suppose I'll be long, Sergeant,' said Peploe.