‘You’ll give me the usual order when you want me to go?’
‘No, in this case I’ll say "Now". I want you to rev up first so that when we do go we’ll go back at a hell of a lick. If we can shoot back fast enough before those beams give way there’s a chance the rear tracks will reach the bank. If they do we might just make it – with the added pull the tractor will give us. "And I can’t guarantee it will work.’
‘You’re telling me you can’t,’ said Colburn. ‘Once this weight moves on to the beams my bet is they’ll sink like a stone.’
‘You’re probably right – but by then our impetus may take us on to the bank. There’s no other way, Colburn. We’re damned lucky that farmer turned up.’
‘You’re right there – I wonder if he has any idea what he’s risking if a German patrol turns up? Don’t tell me he can push off in the dark because he can’t – not with all those tons of tank tied to his tail.’
‘He must know that,’ replied Barnes quietly. ‘If the generals had fought this war the way some of these people fight when they get the chance we’d be over the Rhine by now.’ He paused. ‘I want you to stay on the rear of the hull, Colburn. Then if anything goes wrong you jump. We’re bound to move back at least a bit and with your legs you should be able to hit the bank.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ll be jumping off myself as soon as Reynolds is clear of the hatch.’
‘Let’s just see what happens, shall we?’ Colburn suggested. ‘And for your information you can stop treating me as a privileged person. There won’t be any passengers on this trip.’
Reynolds moved on to the front of the turret to lower himself inside the driving compartment but Barnes stopped him.
‘There’s one point, Reynolds, and I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a good one – and no reflection on your driving abilities.’ He grinned drily. ‘When we do start to move be sure that you are in reverse gear!’
‘I’ll do, my best, Sergeant,’ Reynolds replied stolidly. He climbed down through the hatch and began revving up.
At the last moment Barnes scrambled down inside the hull, collected a second torch, and handed this to Colburn when he emerged from the turret, telling him to shine it along the right-hand beam. He used his own torch to illuminate the other beam: at least they could now see where they were going and it was vital that he had as much warning as possible if they were on the edge of disaster. Any moment now. He waited a little longer to give Reynolds more time to warm up – the ultimate disaster would be an engine failure when they were halfway back along those beams. And as he contemplated the weird scene behind the tank he felt that their attempt was doomed to failure. The torchlight showed up clearly the improvised bridge they hoped to move over and above it the tow-lines were taut and strained, vanishing in the darkness where they continued across to the rear of the tractor. In the brief intervals between the deep-throated revving up of the tank’s engines he could hear the snarl and spit of the tractor’s motor. Would there be enough horsepower to get them clear in time before the beams sank so deep that mud engulfed and choked the tracks – because of one thing Barnes was perfectly sure: those beams were going to sink rapidly under the tank’s weight and they would probably split in half long before Bert reached the bank. Standing on the engine covers at the rear of the tank, Colburn should make it so long as he jumped quickly, but if their first rush didn’t carry them to the bank Barnes didn’t think that he would make it – he would have to stay behind to help Reynolds, and the driver had to climb upwards out of his hatch before he was even standing on the front hull. There was every chance that the twenty-six ton weight of the tank would sink like a stone long before Reynolds had come out, in which case they would both die without the aid of enemy action just as poor Penn had died. In fact, just as Davis had died. Barnes had an awful vision of what would happen as the tank went down, the mud and ooze rising hungrily up over the tracks, enveloping the hull, welling up over his chest and neck, his head going down as the quagmire swept over him and shut out the world for ever. His hand gripped the mike and he spoke.
‘Now!’
Then he immediately bawled out ‘Maintenant!’ three times at the top of his voice and the tank was moving backwards. The tow-lines drooped, went slack. The farmer hadn’t heard him! He opened his mouth again and saw the lines whip up, tighten, twanging as the tractor lurched forward. The tracks were on the beams now and instantly he was aware of a sinking sensation. Both beams had slipped off the island and Reynolds’ end was going down. He was revving up non-stop and the tracks were churning through mud, sending up great gouts of ooze which sprayed through the torchlight rays as their bridge sank deeper and deeper. They weren’t going to make it. The front end of the bridge was still firmly anchored to the bank so the rear end submerged more and more and now the tank was climbing at a steep angle. He looked back and saw liquid brown ooze lap over the end of the rear tracks, bubbling and slithering over the top. Soon the hull would be under. It was going to be too late, too late ever to reach firm ground and the tank was dropping like a slow-moving lift. Colburn still stood on the hull, leaning back now against the turret but still aiming his torch along the right-hand beam. Hand over the mike, Barnes shouted to him to jump, removed the hand and sucked in his breath to order Reynolds up. Looking back he saw that the quagmire had reached the top of the hull – Reynolds must be frightened out of his life.
Inside the nose of the tank Reynolds was more terrified than he had ever been while under German bombardment, and he had been terrified from the moment he lowered himself through the hatch. His seat was jacked up so that when he sat down his head was well clear of the hatch rim and he could see exactly what was happening. It was the change of angle which finally confirmed that he was going to die horribly. Before Barnes had given the order to move the tank was tilted so that the nose was higher than the tail and this had been of some comfort to Reynolds while they waited for him to rev up. If the tank did start to go down at the rear he might have time to get out and jump back on to the island. It was at least a chance. In the earphones he heard Barnes’ order. Now! The tank began to move backwards, dropping to an even keel as the nose left the island and proceeded over the beams. Seconds later the angle began to change, so that now the nose was sinking, leaving the rear higher, and Reynolds knew that he was finished. The floor seemed to go down at an alarming pace and he could see mud flying past the headlights as the tracks churned deeper and his compartment went on sinking. The downward angle let him see the mud rising up over the tracks and he knew that in the next few seconds it would come over the line of the hull and creep towards his chin. Then, suddenly, it would be pouring into the hatchway, flooding his compartment as the quagmire swamped him. But Barnes hadn’t yet given the order to bale out, so he stayed.
Colburn still hadn’t jumped and Barnes had taken in breath to order Reynolds up when a tuft of grass flew past his torch ray. A second later the rear of the tank dropped and there was a slight bump as the tracks hit something solid. Colburn was shouting sentences Barnes couldn’t hear but he understood what had happened. Climbing up over the steeply-angled beams the tracks had moved on upwards into the air until the centre of gravity had passed the end of the beams and they dropped. They had reached firm ground. The tracks went on up the shallow slope of the bank as he spoke quickly into the mike.
‘Keep it up! We’ve done it!’