Tanner grinned. 'We've just got to find them, haven't we, sir?'
Captain Barclay stepped up into the cab. 'Right, Sergeant,' he said. 'You've got what you wanted - full tanks all round. Now let's get a bloody move on.'
It was now nearly half past three on the morning of Monday, 20 May. The town of Valenciennes lay a couple of miles ahead.
'Strange smell,' said Peploe, sniffing.
'Burning, sir,' said Tanner. 'There's been a fire nearby, I'd say.'
'Damn great river running through this place,' said Barclay, 'by the look of it on the map, at any rate, and the road south follows its course pretty much. I'm afraid it's not a part of France I know - but the name's ringing a bell for some reason. Have a feeling our chaps may have been here in the last war.'
'The river - what's it called?' asked Peploe.
Barclay peered more closely. 'The Escaut. Hang on a minute - we crossed it further north on our way to the front.'
'I remember it, sir,' said Peploe. 'And I remember thinking it was quite a major natural barrier then.'
A natural barrier. Tanner cursed himself. Of course! He thought of the map again - where had that line been marked? Between Le Cateau and Cambrai, and Cambrai was not far south from where they were now. His mind raced: if Cambrai was the limit of the enemy's advance so far then the town must either be almost or already in German hands. Think, he told himself. Think. They had heard fighting the previous afternoon and had seen enemy troops - yet it was at least fifteen miles back that they had last glimpsed any sign of Germans. But neither had they met any French. None - no night-time leaguers, no troop movements, no army vehicles. Nothing at all. Because they had already fallen back.
'Sir,' he said, to Captain Barclay, 'I'm sorry - I should have thought of this earlier - but I think we might run into French troops at any moment.' He slowed and brought the Krupp to a halt.
'How can you possibly know that, Tanner?'
'Because we heard fighting earlier - yesterday afternoon, sir - and we've seen no sign of either enemy or Allied troops since Quievrain. The French must have gone somewhere and the most obvious place is behind a natural barrier like the Escaut. But Valenciennes is quite a big town, and you said the river runs right through it. That means they'll almost certainly defend it - or, at least, the approaches to the river.'
'And we need to cross the Escaut to get to Arras,' added Peploe.
'Yes, sir.'
'So when they see a column of four German trucks they'll think the enemy's trying a stealthy night-time attack.'
'Exactly, sir.'
'You have to admit, sir,' added Peploe, 'that it would be a bit annoying to have come this far only to get mown down by our own side.'
Barclay looked down at the map again in silence, his brow furrowed.
He doesn't know what to do, thought Tanner. 'Sir, I have a suggestion.'
Barclay sighed. 'What is it?'
'We avoid Valenciennes, sir. My guess is that it may well be thick with French forces but also refugees. We haven't seen any in the countryside but I'd have thought a big town is the first place they'll all have headed. Surely we can turn south, avoiding the town, then cut west towards Denain?'
Barclay nodded. 'Yes. Might take a bit more time, but there are certainly the roads to it.'
'Then when we reach the river we'll park the trucks and approach a bridge on foot. Hopefully it won't have been destroyed yet.'
'And then?' said Barclay.
'We shout across, asking for safe passage.'
Barclay was silent a moment, then sighed heavily. 'Yes. I was, er, going to suggest much the same. All right, Tanner. Let's get moving again.'
It was almost light by the time they reached the edge of the village of Neuville, a mile or so south of Denain. Behind, the sun was rising once more, spreading its golden rays across the flat countryside, the air sharp and fresh. Dew and the night's rain glistened on the grass and in the hedgerows, but ahead, to either side of the village, they could see a thin mist rising from the river.
Tanner drove slowly into the village, then stopped by a tall-spired church, the other three trucks pulling to a halt behind him.
'Right, sir,' he said. 'If Mr Peploe would accompany me, we'll head towards the bridge.'
'Very well,' said Barclay. 'I'll tell the rest of the men.'
'Ready, sir?' Tanner asked Peploe.
The lieutenant nodded. The village was quiet, although in the trees the birds were in full song. Tanner listened and his heart lifted. He hadn't heard a May dawn chorus since he'd left England eight years before, yet the sounds were as familiar to him now as they had been when he was a boy. He wished he could return to that life - a life that seemed so completely apart from the one he had led ever since. Yet, even so, he knew that his childhood - those precious years in Alvesdon with his father- had moulded him into the man he had become. A lifetime ago now, and it only needed the sound of a blackbird singing at dawn to carry him back, bringing to his mind a thousand details as fresh and vivid as ever. One day perhaps.
A sweet smell filled the air.
'Delicious,' murmured Peploe. 'Someone's baking. I've been to France a few times and the fresh bread and croissants first thing in the morning are one of the best things about it. I'm tempted to forget Arras and spend the rest of the day in that bakery.'
Tanner smiled. 'It's reminding me how hungry I am.'
'Well, perhaps after we've cleared our passage across the river, we can come back and pay it a quick visit.'
They had walked around a shallow bend in the road and now saw the river directly ahead at the end of the main village road. On the far side a single house loomed spectrally out of the mist.
'Hang on a minute, sir,' said Tanner. He delved into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief, which he tied to the end of his rifle.
Holding it high, they moved towards the bridge. A road ran either side of the river, which they now saw was not as wide as they had first thought. Barges were moored along the bank. The bridge, it seemed, was part of a lock system. The Escaut had been turned into a canal.
'Not at all what I was expecting,' said Peploe. He cupped his hands around his mouth, about to holler across the river, then Tanner saw vague figures on the far side and, a moment later, a spurt of orange flame. Two bullets flew over his head as he dived to the ground, pulling Peploe with him, then two more. He heard Peploe gasp and felt the lieutenant's body go limp. Oh, no. Damn it all, no.
Chapter 13
Another short burst of machine-gun fire spat out, the bullets zipping over Tanner's head as he crouched next to Lieutenant Peploe, the report echoing off the buildings along the village street.
'Stop!' shouted Tanner. Then, trying frantically to remember the phrase card he had been given, he added, 'Nous sommes anglais! Nous sommes anglais/' He raised his rifle with its white handkerchief into the air and waved it from side to side.