Authors: James Holland
he told Hepworth now, 'and help me with these cans.'
'What are we doing with them, Sarge?' Hepworth asked, as he pulled the
large green canvas pack off his back.
'Just grab that fuel and do as I say, Hep. Come on, iggery.'
'Iggery, Sarge?'
'Yes, Private, iggery - it means get a bloody move on.'
They ran back to the yard. Tanner pulled out his seventeen-inch sword
bayonet and stabbed the top of the flimsy tins, while Hepworth returned to the
shed for the rest of the fuel. The sergeant then poured the petrol liberally
over the remaining stores. When Hepworth returned, they finished their task. A
dozen Heinkels thundered overhead, no longer concerned with the station but
with the new front line. Small-arms fire from the Allied lines two miles ahead
could faintly be heard, followed by a dull ripple of explosions. Suddenly there
was a clatter and squeaking from the buildings to the south of the station
yard.
'Tanks,' said Tanner. 'Quick! To the shed.' They sprinted back, Tanner
putting on his jerkin, then heaving his respirator bag and pack onto his
shoulders. They were heavier than he'd imagined, and he cursed to himself.
Slinging his trusted Enfield on his back, he said, 'Right, let's go. Follow me,
Hep.'
As they ran round the front of the warehouse, the sound of tank tracks
grew louder. Then, from the side of a house, the front of a German tank swung
into view. The two men ran on, until Tanner slid into a ditch by the far side
of the yard.
'You'd better be quick, Sarge,' said Hep, his face taut with fear.
Tanner said nothing. Instead his shaking hands struggled to pull out a
single .303 tracer round and push it into the breach of his rifle. German
troops were now moving up round the sides of the tank, half crouching in long,
field-grey coats and their distinctive coal-scuttle helmets.
So, face to face with Germans at last,
he thought.
One of the enemy troops shouted and, with his rifle, pointed to the
stacks of boxes.
'Sarge!' hissed Hepworth.
'Wait, Hep, wait,' whispered Tanner. He watched as a dozen or more
German troops ran across the yard towards the stores. He pressed the wooden
stock of the rifle against his cheek, gripped the wood surrounding the barrel
with his left hand, and felt his finger press against the metal trigger. Just
over a hundred and fifty yards. Closing one eye, he aimed at a box of gelignite
he had doused heavily with petrol and upended to make it stand out. Holding his
breath, he squeezed the trigger.
The flash of the tracer round streaked across the yard and struck the
wooden box. Immediately an explosion ripped the air, sheets of flame burst out
and engulfed the largest stack of stores, followed in succession by a second,
third and fourth explosion as the fireball engulfed the yard. The first
half-dozen Germans were caught in the inferno, and Tanner saw three more catch
fire amid screams of shock and pain.
'Run!' shouted Tanner. 'Run, Hep!' Then the two were scrambling to
their feet, minds closed to what was going on behind them, concentrating on
sprinting northwards for all they were worth, away from the yard and warehouse
to safety.
Above the din of further explosions, the rattle and whizz of bullets
detonating, Tanner was aware of a cannon shell whooshing past him only a few
feet away and punching a hole through a wooden building up ahead. A few seconds
later, machine-gun bullets fizzed over their heads. He and Hepworth dropped to
the ground a few yards short of the bridge over the Mesna river. Tanner rolled
over, unslung his rifle and pulled it into his shoulder. A little over three
hundred yards, he reckoned. He could see the black-jacketed tank commander's
head sticking out of the turret; he was now firing the machine-gun towards
them. Tanner pulled back the bolt and fired. The man's head jerked backwards.
When it righted itself, half his face had gone and the machine-gun was silent.
He yelled at Hepworth to start running again. More soldiers were crouching by
the tank. Tanner pulled back the bolt again and, without moving his face from
the stock, hit a second man.
Two.
Pull back the bolt, fire.
Three.
Again.
Four.
This time he only clipped
a soldier. Back came the bolt.
Five. Six. Seven.
Three rounds left.
That'll do.
He turned and ran, ten yards, twenty, thirty - over the bridge and away
from the inferno, away from the startled enemy. Ahead, the road turned, still
running parallel to the railway but, he knew, out of sight of the yard. A
bullet fizzed past his ear. He could see Hepworth had already made it. Another
bullet zipped by, and another, and then he was safe, for a moment at any rate,
out of sight of the enemy.
Hepworth was up ahead, slowing now, and Tanner paused, hands on his
hips, leaning backwards, gasping for breath. Now that he had momentarily
stopped, he felt his pack cutting into his shoulders. Bending double to relieve
the weight, he grimaced, then began running again, albeit more slowly. Behind
him, vast clouds of pitch-black smoke rolled into the sky.
Tanner drew level with Hepworth, who grinned. 'Some explosion, that
one, Sarge. I reckon there's a few Jerries there who won't be bothering us no
more.' He watched as Tanner pressed another clip of bullets into his magazine.
'Shoot a few of the buggers, did you, Sarge? Did you get that tank man?'
'Less of the chit-chat, Hep,' said Tanner. 'Let's concentrate on catching
up with the others and getting out of here in one piece.'
They were nearing the edge of the town. A few frightened civilians were
peering from their houses, but the streets were still empty. He had hoped to
come across a car, a motorbike or even bicycles, but there had been nothing and
no time in which to look more thoroughly. The houses thinned and then they were
in the open, running along a cleared road, patchy snow at either side and
yellowed grass showing through. Of the rest of the platoon there was no sign.
How much of a head start had they had? he wondered. Fifteen minutes? No wonder
he couldn't see them.
'How much further, Sarge?' gasped Hepworth.
'A mile. Not much more.' Tanner could see the mass of the Balberg
strutting imperiously above them. German field guns continued booming behind
them. They could see the dark shells as they hurtled across the sky and
exploded among the Allied positions, the sound of the detonation always
arriving a moment after the flash. 'Keep going, Hep,' urged Tanner. 'Soon be
there.'
Then, behind them, they heard the sound of gears grinding and the
chugging drone of vehicles. Turning, they saw a column of trucks emerging from
Lillehammer some half a mile away. Tanner's heart sank. Coming round a bend in
the open road he could see at least half a dozen, filled with troops, each
pulling an anti-tank gun.
'What are we going to do now, Sarge?' said Hepworth. 'We'll never be
able to stop them.' Hepworth was a small lad, barely nineteen, his face pale
and his brows knotted in despair. Tanner eyed him, then glanced around. The
land was open, but about fifty yards ahead, a short way back from the road,
there was a farmhouse.
'Keep calm, Hep,' he said. 'First we're going to head to that house
where we can get a bit of cover.'
'And then what, Sarge?'
'If you asked a few less questions, Hep, I might be able to think a bit
more clearly,' Tanner snapped. He was trying to weigh up a couple of options in
his mind. 'Bloody hell,' he mumbled, as he tried to catch his breath. 'What a
mess.' No matter what he decided, the reality was that he and Hepworth were now
caught between the new Allied lines and the vanguard of the German attack. He
had a good mind to floor Captain Webb if and when he ever saw him again.
Tanner noticed that
a large barn extended out at right angles from the house.
Good
, he thought, grateful for
whatever cover he could get. The twitch of a curtain showed the place was still
occupied, but it appeared that the owners preferred not to show themselves. He
crouched beside the stone ramp that led up to the barn's first floor and opened
the haversack slung behind his left hip. He felt inside, pulled out an old
piece of oily cloth and carefully unwrapped it.
'What's that, Sarge?' asked Hepworth, crouching beside him.
'It's a telescopic sight,' said Tanner. 'An Aldis.' It had once
belonged to his father, and Tanner had carried it with him throughout his army
career. Most gunsmiths could modify the Enfield rifle easily enough by milling
and fitting two scope mounts and pads to the action body - alterations that
were sufficiently discreet to enable a platoon sergeant to have his rifle
adapted without his superiors noticing. Consequently, having joined the 5th
Battalion in
Leeds, he had wasted no time in taking his newly issued SMLE No. 1 Mk III rifle
to a gunsmith in the Royal Armoury to have it adapted and his scope sighted. It
was a good scope and his father had sworn by it; certainly Tanner had found
that on the rare occasions he had used it, the Aldis had never lost its zero.
'There's someone in the house,' said Tanner. 'Go and find out whether
they've got any transport.'
Hepworth hurried up to the front door.
Screwing the scope into place, Tanner stood behind the ramp leading up
to the barn and, using it as a rest, peered through the sight. The column was
now about seven hundred yards away, and his sight zeroed at four hundred. He
had found that allowing a foot's drop for every fifty yards beyond the zero
usually did the trick, but this was going to be a long shot even with the
scope; as it was, he could only just see the driver of the lead vehicle. Tanner
reminded himself that all he needed to do was delay the column, cause a bit of
confusion. He lowered his aim to the bottom of the truck, then lifted it again
by, he guessed, about six foot. The truck was moving slowly - under fifteen
miles per hour, he reckoned - and almost directly towards him. Half exhaling as
he pulled back the bolt, he held his breath and squeezed the trigger.
The truck lurched and ploughed off the road, so that the vehicle
immediately behind quickly emerged around it. This time Tanner aimed at the
indistinct figure of the driver, then made a generous adjustment for the
bullet's falling trajectory, and fired again. The man was hit - Tanner could see
him thrown backwards. 'Damn,' he mouthed, pulled back the bolt again and fired
once more. This time he saw the driver punched back in his seat, then slump
forward. The man next to him grabbed at the steering-wheel, but it was too late
and the truck struck the first, which came to a halt spread across the width of
the road. Men were pouring out of the vehicles now and taking cover. Tanner
smiled to himself with satisfaction, then turned towards the front of the farm,
where Hepworth was still banging on the door.
'What the hell are you playing at?' shouted Tanner.
'They're not answering,' said Hepworth.
'For God's sake, Hepworth,' snarled Tanner. 'Forget 'em. Don't waste
bloody time on niceties. A quick dekko in the barns and sheds. We need to get
out of here - fast.'
There were several ageing carts in a barn but two bicycles in one of
the sheds adjoining the house. One had a flat tyre and was covered with dust
and cobwebs, but the two infantrymen grabbed them. 'Right, let's go,' said
Tanner. 'Come on, quick.'
German artillery shells were whistling overhead with greater regularity
now, bombarding the Allied positions just half a mile ahead. Tanner wove back
and forth across the road, hoping to make himself a more elusive target should the
Germans attempt to fire at them. His flat rear wheel was sliding badly, but he
managed to keep his balance. Hepworth, making faster progress, repeatedly
looked back until Tanner urged him to press on. Suddenly he became aware of an
eerie silence - no birds singing, no blast of shells exploding. In the next
moment there came a faint whirr and Tanner yelled at Hepworth, then flung down
his bicycle and leapt into the snow by the side of the road, just as a stream
of bullets spat up a line along the road followed by four Messerschmitt 110s
thundering over.
He stood up and saw them strafing
the Allies ahead, then shouted to Hepworth. To his relief, the private got up,
dusted off the snow, hitched his rifle onto his shoulder and waved.
Soon after, they
reached the Allied forward positions, waved in through the hastily prepared
roadblock by a corporal from the Sherwood Foresters.
'Where're our
lot?' Tanner asked.
'Behind. Two
hundred yards, on the right of the road under the Balberkamp.'
A subaltern
approached Tanner. 'Anyone behind you, Sergeant?'
'Only a column
of enemy infantry.'
'How many?'
'Hard to say,
sir. I counted at least a dozen trucks. They were all towing guns - about the
size of our two- pounders, I reckon. And they've got tanks.'
'Good God,'
muttered the lieutenant. 'You'd better report to HQ right away.'
'Yes, sir. Where
is it, sir?'