Up in the turret Colburn put the revolver back on the ledge next to the plunger box and wiped both his hands dry. The revolver had seemed a more appropriate weapon for one sentry. Taking a last look back at the dangerous corner he concentrated on observing the view ahead, issuing occasional instructions to keep Barnes in the dead centre of the street, his mind chilled. On his right a row of two-storey houses ran down the side of the street as a continuous wall, the upper-floor windows just above the level of his turret. To his left ran the high embankment of the unseen canal, a steep-sloped embankment at least twenty feet high which closed off the view across open fields. Ahead lay the street, a canyon of shadow, apparently deserted, the forward movement of the beams exposing only empty road. It seemed quite uncanny and as the tank ground forward Colburn found his nerves screwing up to an almost unbearable pitch of tension. Within the next few minutes they were bound to run into something very big.
Barnes was experiencing the same emotion, as far as he could experience anything beyond the mounting pain which gripped bis whole body. The tenderness of the shoulder wound was almost unendurable now as the side of the detonator box sagged against him, a relentless pain which should have obscured all others, but he could still feel the aching bruise on top of bis head where the German sentry had knocked him out and the back of his burnt left hand felt strangely disembodied, as though it might float off the end of his arm. And over it all flooded a tidal wave of fatigue which threatened to drown his mind, a wave held back more by pain than by any effort of will.
Another part of his mind mechanically operated the steering levers and the two control pedals – the gear-box clutch pedal on the left and the accelerator on the right. There was a hill in front of them, a hill which rose almost level with the embankment then a steady drop with a side turning off to the right, then another hill beyond that…
Colburn’s voice was taut. ‘We’re running alongside the canal embankment now – there’s a line of houses on the right. Still no sign of trouble.’
Which was exactly how Barnes was visualizing it. Had they got away with it? Already they were driving along this road at the very edge of Lemont – the village ended abruptly at the embankment and beyond there was open country. Jacques had told him that it was very much of a side road, which was why they had reconnoitred along this route. And now they had left behind what Barnes had anticipated might well be the grimmest part of their journey – the dash through the village. What lay ahead didn’t bear thinking about but it almost looked as though they might reach the airfield. In his mind’s eye he saw the lie of the land ahead. They had come in one way, along this road to the empty house of Jacques’ father, and then for safety’s sake they had come back across the fields on the far side of the embankment… He heard the shot, one single report. Then another.
Colburn had been striving to watch all ways at once – the road ahead, the road behind, the line of two-storey houses to his right and the silhouette of the high embankment which showed more clearly now against a faint glow. Dawn was on the way. He looked for his watch and remembered that he had loaned it to Barnes. The line of the embankment was dropping now as they began to move uphill. He knew that soon he would be able to see across it and he kept reminding himself to keep a sharp eye on those houses. There was no reason to suspect any danger from their darkened windows but they worried him because they were so close and the upper windows looked down on the tank. He picked up the revolver and the weapon gave him a sense of security.
The emergency happened so unexpectedly that it almost took his breath away. A window on an upper floor was flung open and the curtain must have been attached to it: a pool of light flooded out and illuminated the tank below. Colburn looked up and saw a German soldier, his pudding-shaped helmet clearly visible, staring down. He heard him shout, saw him reach back into the room and then lift a machine-pistol. Colburn reacted instantly, raising his revolver, he fired twice. As the tank moved on the German toppled into the garden below.
‘Barnes, a Jerry opened a window and spotted us. He was going to shoot but I got in first.’ Colburn wished that the damned intercom wasn’t simply one-way. It was like talking to a ghost. ‘If they’ve got a phone in the house they’ll be all over us soon now. Unless he was alone with a girl. He had his helmet on,’ he added with unconscious humour.
Barnes thought of the joke and smiled grimly. He hoped that the German had been with a girclass="underline" if that were the case she’d probably try and get a neighbour to dump the body into the convenient canal. Not that it was likely if the village had been evacuated, so they’d better assume a warning was going out. They must be close to the top of this hill now, and close to where he had crossed the canal with Jacques over that huge barge. Was there something wrong? He could have sworn he had heard Colburn suck in his breath. Colburn had sucked in his breath and now he was no longer looking at the houses or at the embankment. He was gazing straight ahead and as they moved over the hill-top his mouth was dry with fear such as he had not known since they started their fateful journey through Lemont.
From his vantage point at the hill crest he could see over the summit of the hill beyond where a chain of headlights moved towards him, an endless chain which threw up a great glow of light behind the next hill summit. He had no doubt at all that he was looking at a column of armoured vehicles advancing down the road they were moving along, probably a column sent for the express purpose of intercepting them. My God, he thought, and I was kidding myself up that we might have got away with it. We’re finished now, finished.
‘Barnes! There’s a whole stream of traffic on the road ahead. It’s still some distance off but it’s coming towards us and we’ll meet it in the next few minutes. They’re on-to us – it must be Panzers, a helluva lot of them.’
Barnes’ reaction staggered him. He felt the tank pick up speed as it moved down the hill, the tracks grinding round "faster and faster as they rumbled forward at ever-increasing pace as though Barnes couldn’t wait to meet the oncoming column in head-on collision. For a moment he thought he had gone mad and then they reached the bottom of the hill and stopped. The headlights went out and Barnes rolled back the hood. He paused for a second while he heaved the detonator box back into position, using both hands to push the case firmly against the side of the hull. Then he jacked up the seat so that when he sat down his head would be above the hatch. He called up to the anxious Colburn.
‘How far away are those vehicles?’
‘Half a mile, I’d guess. I can’t be certain.’
‘Maybe only a quarter?’
‘No, at least half a mile. Barnes, our lights have gone.’
‘I put them out. I don’t want to risk them seeing us go up the embankment.’
‘Up there?’
Colburn stared in horror up the steep slope which rose twenty feet above them. Had Barnes lost his judgement? He must have decided to make a last stand from the top of the embankment, if they ever got up there. He couldn’t have realized the strength of the column which was moving against them. He called down from the turret.