More importantly, the wait had allowed them to stockpile ammunition and supplies. From the abandoned vehicles along the road in front of their position, D Company had requisitioned another fifteen Bren guns, one Lewis gun, two Boys anti-tank rifles, eight wooden boxes of twelve No. 36 grenades, numerous spare rifles and some twenty-five thousand rounds of .303 ammunition. In addition, Sykes had scouted out some more explosives.
'If I'm honest, Sarge,' he confessed to Tanner, 'I didn't look all that hard for those C Company lads in Dunkirk. I got a bit distracted, you see, by some sapper boys who showed me an abandoned truck of theirs a bit further down on the beach. Anyway, they had a wooden box of Nobels and all the gear, so I 'elped meself. I managed to stuff in five cartons of 808, plus detonators and safety fuse.' He grinned. 'You never know when it might come in handy.'
However, it was not only weapons and ammunition they had found but food and other supplies too. The larder in the farmhouse was soon stacked high with tins of bully beef, condensed milk, fruit, vegetables, biscuits, beer, wine and cigarettes. The men would no longer be expected to fight on empty stomachs. Tanner found a new battle-blouse, and also a compass - something he had rarely used before because he had generally relied on the sun and the stars and his own sense of direction, yet he now vowed never to be without one again. Lieutenant Peploe and Kershaw, meanwhile, recovered a No. 9 wireless set from an abandoned carrier. Setting it up in Company Headquarters in one of the outbuildings at the back of the farmhouse, they soon managed to pick up the BBC and, for the first time since they'd arrived in France, were able to hear the news from home. They also discovered some of what was happening in France. The evacuation, it seemed, was going better than had been expected.
That Thursday was a glorious day - warm, sunny, with a deep blue sky and just a few summery white clouds. Late in the morning, stripped to his shirtsleeves, Tanner led a six-man patrol across the canal, partly to see if there was any sign of the approaching enemy but also to scrounge yet more supplies. At L'Avenir, a hamlet a mile or so to the south, they struck gold when they found two abandoned Royal Engineers eight-hundredweight Humber trucks. In the back of the first, sitting there waiting for the enemy to help themselves, were two wooden crates of Nobels as well as an intact fifty-cap blasting machine.
'Blimey, Sarge!' exclaimed Sykes. 'Just look at all those lovely explosives!'
'But we've already got more than enough, haven't we?' said Tanner.
'Sarge, you can never have enough gelignite.'
'Actually, Stan, you're right. I've just had an idea - with all this we can blow the approach roads, can't we? A few big craters'll annoy Jerry something rotten because he won't get too many vehicles over the fields, will he?' The water had not risen as high to the south as to the north of the canal, but the ground either side of the raised roads and tracks was wet and waterlogged. 'He'll have to send his infantry forward on foot,' Tanner added. 'That means no tanks and no artillery pieces until he's mended the roads. And that'll take time.'
'True enough.'
'So let's fetch some of the others and get to it.'
Four roads fed into L'Avenir, two from the south and two from the north. Heading south first, they stopped two hundred yards beyond the hamlet and Sykes got to work. He laid a packet of five cartridges of gelignite on the road, placed a detonator at one end, then crimped a four-foot length of safety fuse and lit it. That done, he ran back to the others waiting some hundred yards away. Two minutes later, the gelignite blasted rock, tarmacadam and dust high into the air. They watched the debris clatter to the ground and waited for the dust to settle. A hole had opened across the width of the road. Sykes grinned. 'One down,' he said. 'Dr Nobel does the trick again.'
'Nice job, Stan,' said Tanner. A lone shell screamed over and they ducked. It exploded harmlessly in the fields several hundred yards to their right. 'Someone's getting twitchy. Tinker,' he said to Bell, 'you'd better go back to Battalion HQ and tell them what we're doing. And iggery, all right?'
They paused while Bell trotted off, scrounging some more tins of food and cigarettes from another abandoned truck, and waited some more while a newly arrived column of fifty or so troops trudged past on their way to the perimeter. An almost constant stream of men, both
British and French, had poured through the day before. The previous evening, one column of French infantry had thrown all their weapons in the canal as they had crossed over into the perimeter. The Rangers had watched them, appalled, from their part of the line. 'Sergeant,' Peploe had said, 'I take back what I said earlier about the French. That was a bloody disgrace.'
Since then, however, the stream had petered out so now there was just a trickle of stragglers.
Tanner watched the men stagger down the road, their uniforms torn and filthy, their faces haggard and drawn. 'Which lot are you?' he asked.
'DLI,' came the reply.
'Which battalion?' Tanner asked them. 'Eighth.'
'We were with you lot at Arras,' said Tanner.
'Arras?' muttered one bloodied sergeant. 'That was a lifetime ago.'
'Here, have some beadies,' said Tanner, handing him a packet of French cigarettes.
'Cheers, pal,' said the sergeant, pausing to open the packet and light one.
'How far back's Jerry?' Tanner asked him.
'Not far. Must have crossed the Yser, I reckon, and that's eight or ten miles away. He'll be here by nightfall, that's for sure.'
'Cheers,' said Tanner. 'Good luck.'
'Good luck yerself.'
'Right,' said Tanner, turning back to the others. 'We'd better get a move on.'
By midday, they had blown the three approach roads and those leading into L'Avenir in at least two places and were crossing back over the bridge when they saw, parked just on the north side, a large staff car. A British general was standing beside it, talking with the colonel of the Coldstreams, their own OC and a captain. He wore a distinctive high-peaked cap, breeches and immaculately clean cavalry boots, while above his top lip was a neat moustache.
Tanner recognized him at once - Brigadier Alexander, as he had been last time they had met. 'Better look sharp, boys,' he said, and as he neared the general he saluted as crisply as he could.
The general acknowledged him, then said, 'Excuse me, Sergeant, we've met before, haven't we?'
Tanner brought his men to a halt and stood to attention before him. 'Yes, sir, in Waziristan.'
Alexander smiled. 'Of course - Tanner. And a sergeant now.' He stepped forward and tapped on the ribbon of Tanner's military medal. 'He's a brave man, this one,' he said, to the officers beside him. 'Should have got a DCM for what he did at Muzi Kor.'
Tanner reddened. 'There were others a lot braver than me, sir.'