'Jesus,' said Tanner, 'is that what this is about? You and your sodding little fiefdom?' He laughed croakily.
'Will you start being a good boy, Jack?' said Blackstone. 'You're causing me all manner of trouble.'
Tanner's fists clenched and he stiffened. 'You set this up, didn't you?'
Blackstone moved even closer to him. 'I've tried, Jack, tried to be nice, tried to be friendly. Offered olive branch after olive branch. I'm telling you now. Do as I ask, Jack. Life will be better for everyone if you do.'
Tanner pushed him away. 'Bugger off, Blackstone, will you?'
'I'm not warning you again.'
Tanner straightened, then pushed past him.
'Very well, Jack,' said Blackstone, after him. 'On your head be it.'
Chapter 15
It was not until around seven the following morning, Tuesday, 21 May, that General Lord Gort learned that the French would not be attacking simultaneously with Frankforce. It was Captain de Vogue who rang Major- General Pownall to break the news. Shortly afterwards the liaison officer at General Billotte's headquarters, Major Archdale, confirmed the French decision.
'I'm sorry, my lord, but all they can spare is Third DLM and a few Somua tanks,' said Pownall, from the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of the commander- in-chief's desk that he had spent so many hours on since their move to Wahagnies. He yawned. 'Excuse me,' he muttered. Outside, it was warm already. The morning mist was lifting, the haze in the garden suffused with a promising brightness.
'Here,' said Gort, irritation in his voice. 'Have some coffee.' He stood up and leaned across his desk to the wooden tray on which stood a coffee pot and the remains of a light breakfast. He poured his chief-of-staff
a cup, then said, 'So Altmayer's cracking up, too, is he?'
'Says his men are exhausted and in no position to fight today. Tomorrow is the earliest they could join us.'
'It'll be too damn late by then. You've read the latest sitrep?'
Pownall nodded. 'The Germans have reached Abbeville.'
'And Billotte agrees with Blanchard and Altmayer?'
'According to Archdale, Billotte's been spending his time agonizing over whether a fuel dump should be blown up rather than organizing any counter-attack. And he's moved his HQ to Bethune, which has taken time and caused communication problems. Archdale thinks Billotte's losing his marbles entirely.'
'The devil!' Gort thumped his fist on the table. 'Now's the time to strike - now! It's only the Hun cavalry that's been sending us reeling. The main bulk of the German Army is still miles behind. A big effort today and we slice the head of the German advance from the body. Delay, and the rest will catch up. Then it'll be too late.' He shook his head. 'At least One and Three Corps are holding their line, but let's face it, Henry, if the Germans reach the coast, our lines of supply are going to be buggered. What's the food and ammunition situation?'
'Ammunition isn't critical yet, but food's getting short. We've only another two and a half days at current rates.'
'It's impossible,' he muttered, then added, 'Let's hope General Weygand's got a good plan up his sleeve. How are we getting to Ypres this morning?'
'By car, my lord. I just pray the roads are clear enough.'
'God willing. I want to meet Weygand. I want to see whether he's got what it takes and I want to damn well impress upon him the importance of quick decision-making. I've heard he's good, but he's dashed old - seventy-odd, isn't he? Like all these French generals.'
'And too rooted in the last war, perhaps.' Pownall gulped his tepid coffee. 'And what about Frankforce, my lord? Do we cancel the attack today?'
'No, Henry. No. We've got to be seen to be acting on our promises. In any case, it might achieve something. I can't say this is a great surprise. It's why I didn't tell Franklyn we were hoping the French would join us. He still thinks it's an operation to clear our southern flank.'
'And surely that's what it is, my lord.'
'Yes, that's exactly what it is,' Gort concurred. 'The threats of evacuation have had no effect at all. Tell me, Henry, am I going to have to call in the Navy and move the BEF to Dunkirk before the French wake up?'
Tanner was in a filthy mood. He had stumbled back into the church and, in the near-darkness, had found a corner and got his head down, but the cover of night would only delay the inevitable. The men had been up at first light and, of course, had seen the cut on his cheek, the bloodied, swollen lip, and he'd been unable to hide the pain in his side. His head throbbed and his body hurt like hell. What was more, the wound he had received at the lock a few days ago had opened again and stung sharply every time he moved.
In many ways, however, the pain was the least of it. Worse were the comments, the looks, the seemingly endless questions. First Sykes, then the others. 'What happened to you, Sarge?' 'You look terrible, Sarge.' And what could he say? That, for no apparent reason, three Frenchmen had jumped on him and given him a going-over? It was so bloody humiliating. And Blackstone had let slip that he'd rescued him, saved his life, even. The bastard. Tanner had known he was making a bad show of hiding his feelings. When Hepworth said, 'I told you old Blackie was a good bloke,' Tanner had nearly knocked him cold there and then. It had taken much willpower to ignore the comment and walk away.
If only they could get on with the battle, everyone would forget about it, but six o'clock came and went, then seven and still they had received no orders. Lieutenant Bourne-Arton was sent to liaise with Brigade; soon after he had gone, a swarm of Junkers 88s had flown over and pasted Vimy, but the lieutenant had returned unscathed a short while later, with news that they would be forming up at ten a.m., and that the company was to rendezvous with the rest of the right-hand attack column at eleven a.m. in Neuville-St-Vaast, a village a mile or so on the far side of Vimy Ridge. That meant a further two hours of sitting around, re-cleaning weapons, and suffering the nudges and comments of the men.
'Come on, Sarge,' said Sykes, as they waited out on the village square. 'Have a tab and cheer up a bit.' He lit Tanner a cigarette and passed it to him.
Tanner took it and grunted his thanks. He hadn't really spoken to Sykes about it, but now he felt more inclined to do so. 'It was Blackstone, Stan.'
'I might have known,' said Sykes. 'What did happen between you two? In India, I mean.'
'It was a bit like now. Him trying to run the show. He had everyone in his pocket - not just the platoon but others too.'
'Not you, though?'
Tanner smiled. 'No. I don't know why but I instinctively mistrusted him. I think he sensed it. Anyway, he went out of his way to make life difficult.' Tanner paused to draw on his cigarette.
'I see,' said Sykes.
'I began to realize he was a coward,' Tanner continued. 'Throughout the Loe Agra campaign he'd do anything to avoid a scrap. Anyway, one day I told him what I thought.'