‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘Layers on. Load! Lay on that R.A.F. lorry. Vertical zero, lateral zero.’
‘On, on,’ came from the two layers.
‘Set to auto. One burst. Fire!’
The pit shook at the sudden utterances of the gun — Umm-pom, umm-pom, umm-pom. The flame guard belched fire and the barrel thrust backwards and forwards at each shot. The tracer shells flew through the air like little flaming oranges chasing each other to the target. They hit the lorry square amidships and burst with soft plops. Five shots and the lorry had disintegrated into a great billow of smoke that poured out from its shattered sides and began immediately to creep up the hill, hugging the ground.
‘By God, Langdon, you’re right,’ cried Guest excitedly. ‘It is smoke.’
‘Get that other lorry,’ shouted Langdon. This stuff will be on top of us in a moment.’
The gun traversed left. More sandbags had to be removed from the parapet before the layers could get on target. The smoke rolled up the hill, thick and black and strangely menacing. The vanguard of it topped the hill to the south of us, putting a dense screen between ourselves and the dispersal point below which we had attacked the first lorry. It was clear we should miss the bulk of it, but the fringe of the wretched stuff was-only a few yards from us when the layers reported. ‘On, on.’
A moment later the Bofors spoke. It was like the sound of tom-toms in a mountain gorge, steady and angry. The first two little balls of fire hit the slope in the foreground. The layers elevated slightly and the fourth shell registered a direct hit on the cabin. Two more shells and Guest ordered ‘Cease fire!’ The last shell so shook the wreckage that it slowly toppled over on to the wire. Great volumes of black smoke poured lazily from it as it had from the other two.
‘Nice work,’ I said. I had a horrible feeling of exultation. ‘Now there’s only one left and the armoured car ought to be able to deal with that.’
‘If it can get through all this smoke,’ said Langdon.
‘No matter,’ I said. ‘One lorry won’t make much of a smokescreen.’
‘Yes, but supposing they came over now.’ He looked anxious. The whole field will be covered with smoke. The ground defences couldn’t do a thing.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I replied. ‘They couldn’t land. Don’t forget the whole thing depends on their having balloon markers at each end of the runway to guide them in. Besides, they won’t come yet. It must have been worked out to an intricate timetable. The cylinders wouldn’t have been distributed for at least ten minutes. And they would have had to allow some slight margin. I should say we have got another quarter of an hour. But we must warn other aerodromes.’
At that moment the Tannoy sounded faintly from the depths of the smoke, wisps of which were beginning to curl over the pit: ‘Attention, please! Attention, please! Attack Alarm! Attack Alarm! All ground defences to report immediately to their action stations. Crews to stand by at dispersal points. All other personnel to take cover. Anti-aircraft defences will be fully manned. All personnel throughout the camp will put on gas masks immediately.’ The message was repeated.
And then: Tiger and Swallowtail Squadrons to readiness immediately.’
‘Thank God for that,’ I said. ‘Helson has persuaded someone to take action.’
The phone rang. Sergeant Guest answered it. Then he put his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to us. ‘It’s the C.O. Thorby on the ‘phone. He wants to know if anyone in this gun pit has any accurate knowledge of what’s going on.’
‘I’ll talk to him,’ said Langdon.
He took the receiver. ‘Sergeant Langdon here, sir. The position is this: There was a plan to land troops on the aerodrome at dawn this morning under cover of a smoke screen. Four R.A.F. lorries entered the camp at roughly three-fifty hours carrying smoke cylinders and manned by fifth columnists in R.A.F. uniforms. Gunner Hanson of my detachment saw a large number of these lorries being loaded up in a gravel pit in Ashdown Forest. Mr Vayle was in charge. Yes, Vayle. The four lorries that entered Thorby distributed themselves along the wire to the northeast of the landing field — that is, to windward. My own detachment dealt with one of them and two more have just been destroyed by Bofors fire from Number Five pit. Yes, sir, as far as we know it’s only smoke. Gas would hamper their own troops as much as ours. Well, the cylinders must be fairly well shot to pieces. It shouldn’t take long to clear. No, they were to be guided in by balloons at a fixed height at each end of the runway. The last one must be practically at the north end of the ‘drome. The wind is northeast, you know. Yes, the runner who reported to Gun Ops. has gone on to get the armoured car. You’ll come out with it, sir? Very good. I’ll wait here at Number Five pit. Well, we think in about quarter of an hour. Can you send an urgent warning out to all ‘dromes in the south-eastern area? Yes, there isn’t much time. Very good, sir. I’ll be here.’
He put down the receiver. ‘He’s sending out a warning to other stations right away,’ Langdon told me.
‘Is Winton coming out here?’ I asked.
‘Yes — and the ground-defence officer.’
‘Aren’t you two going to put your masks on?’ came Guest’s muffled voice. He already had his on, and I suddenly realised that the whole of his detachment had put gas masks on. The smoke was curling into the pit and it smelt acrid and dirty. I had a moment of panic as I discovered that I hadn’t got mine with me. Langdon hadn’t got his either. In the excitement of the moment I don’t think any of our detachment had taken their masks with them. Langdon sniffed the air and then shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say, what will be will be. We examined the pit gas detectors. They were unmarked though the smoke was thickening all round us. To the north it was still light, but visibility was too bad for us to make out any details. To the south, however, it was still black.
It gave one an unpleasant feeling of being choked. At the same time I began to feel that expectant void in my stomach. Time was slipping by. In a few minutes it would be zero hour. I began to wonder what would happen. They might not have the smoke screen to help them, but that did not necessarily mean they wouldn’t land. And if they landed, — well, on paper it should be a massacre. But — I wasn’t sure.
‘I think we’d better get out of here whilst we can still see our way,’ Langdon said to me. ‘Winton will never get as far as the pit in this stuff. We’ll meet him on the road.’
Smoke from the lorry to the north of us was now pouring over the brow of the hill and rolling in a thick, lowlying cloud across the landing field. It didn’t spread much, however, so that there was quite a well-defined lane of pale light, part moon, part dawn, between this bank of smoke and the one behind us. The latter was already beginning to thin out, for the cylinders, having been shattered, had not much staying power.
We had barely reached the roadway when a pair of headlights nosed out of the smoke. At first I thought it was the armoured car. But when it cleared the smoke, it turned out to be a small sports car. As it drew up alongside us I recognised it for Nightingale’s. Three people were sitting in it. They looked strangely impersonal, for they had gas masks on. The two in front were in Air Force uniform. But the one behind was a civilian.
I knew who the two in front were before they removed their gas masks. The driver was Nightingale, and it was Marion who sat beside him. ‘Where have you been, Barry?’ Her voice was quiet. For a moment I thought her eyes looked reproachful, anxious. But there was a smile on her lips — a smile that made my heart race — and it spread from her lips to her eyes. Her whole face was suddenly lit up by that smile.