CHAPTER 2
“Turret left! Range five hundred! Got him, Ginge?”

“Aye…”

The Cromwell rocked as the breech flew back.

“Nice one, lad. You’ve got the eye for this, all right. Driver, sharp left here”

We rolled forward, rising slightly as we went over the dead horse, and I tried not to listen as the port track slipped just a little in the mess. Something struck the front of the hull; rifle round, probably. I was tired beyond anything I had ever felt.

“Driver stop!”

Bob slapped my shoulder. “Going out, lad, have a look through that hedge. Ernie, get your head out, keep cavey, aye?”

Wilf called back to us from his seat. “Got time for a brew?”

“Don’t be so daft! Time for a fag, if you want”

Bob was back in a few minutes, leaves caught in his hair. “That’s twenty-first Panzer, that lot. Had them in North Africa. Hard bastards”

Wilf called back again. “What we got, Bob?”

“Bait and trap, mate. Usual stuff. I could see at least two muzzles down the other end of the field. There’s three Mark Fours in front of them, but they’re all brewed up. Couple of Ronsons too. One of them’s still burning. Hang on while I get hooked up. Right…Sunray, Sunray, Bravo seven one!”

“Go ahead, Bravo seven one”

Bob rattled off a grid reference. “Three U.S. Mark Fours ahead of us. Two U.S. Shermans between us and them. At least two anti-tank guns beyond them at the tree line, over”

“You sure the Mark Fours are unserviceable, over?”

“All three are smoking. Two have crew hanging out of the escape hatches, and one of them hasn’t got a head. Markings are twenty-first Panzer, over”

“Hold position, Bravo seven one. Bravo eight one, Bravo eight one, Sunray”

“Go ahead, Sunray”

Jack’s voice was tinny over the net, but I could still read his mind. How many this time? We had heard the news of the Filthy Fifth, over towards the West, where one bastard Tiger had stopped their column by taking out the first and last vehicles, then driven their length killing them tank by tank.

“Bravo eight one, make all possible speed to their right. Bravo seven one, Sunray”

“Go ahead”

“Can you spot fall of shot and correct it? Getting a stonk laid on, over”

“Will try, Sunray. Dismounting. Ernie, I’ll shout back, aye?”

Off he went again, and Jack was back on the net. “Sunray, Sunray, Bravo eight one”

“Go ahead, eight one”

“Got a sunken lane past the woods. Making good speed, be there in five, over”

“Understood. Listening”

Silence, except for the buzzing of the bees around us and a distant rattle of musketry, then the radio spoke again.

“Sunray, Sunray, Bravo eight one”

“Go ahead, eight one”

“In position. Looks like at least four guns, fifties or bigger. Half tracks to rear, over”

“Understood, eight one. Bravo seven one?”

Ernie answered. “Seven one here”

“Firing now”

I heard the round pass overhead before the explosion ahead of us. Bob was shouting to Ernie, who repeated it for the gun crews. With each message, there came a loud explosion.

“Up twenty. Left twenty. Fire for effect”

Jack’s voice: “Engaging half tracks. Shoot”

There was a roar of explosions as the twenty-fives fired their stonk, but I still heard the whiplash crack of the paks mingling with the deeper boom of Cromwell seventy-fives. Bob scrambled back in and closed his hatch. “Driver advance! Through that hedge, quick as you like, Harry! Shit, shit, shit!

The hedge tore apart in front of my sight as I looked around for targets. Men were running from the tree line, falling as Wilf’s Besa hammered away, but I was looking for other things. Things like the white-hot streak of an anti-tank round coming at me. It was just as Bob had described, a mixture of burnt and burning vehicles, charred bodies hanging off them, and as we roared past at our best speed, the smell was sucked into the turret by the ventilation fans. I had nothing left to throw up.

“Harry, get behind that Mark Four with the turret off. Sunray, Sunray, cease firing”

“Understood, seven one. Bravo eight one, Bravo eight one”

“Sunray, Bravo eight three. Eight one’s copped it”

“What do you have, eight three?”

“Four wrecked seventy-fives, Sunray, and accompanying tractors. Can we have infantry as soon as possible? We have prisoners, over”

“Losses?”

“Eight one’s gone, as well as eight six. Both brewed up straight away, over”

“How many wounded to bring back, eight three?”

There was a pause. “None, Sunray. Nobody got out”

Bob sighed. “Wait for the footsloggers, Harry, then up to that tree line. Bit too open out here”

Once the East Ridings had cleared the woods, Harry pulled us into their shade. Wilf, as ever, was absolutely predictable.

“Brew now, Bob?”

“Aye, go on. Watch your step, though. I know these fuckers; they might have left some surprises around. No souvenirs just yet, Ginge”

Souvenirs? These were dead men, not objects to lift a little memento off. Jesus. Lads in Khaki were going through pockets, though, and all I could assume was that it had all happened so quick to the Krauts that they hadn’t had time for their usual creativity with tripwires and Bouncing Betties.

A subaltern from the East Ridings was chatting to Bob as we supped Wilf’s usual magic.

“We’re trying to get up on them, pin them to contact, but they just fade back each time. Lads are getting rather tired, Sergeant”

“Aye, sir. Weren’t we supposed to be in’t big city by teatime on the first day?”

The frighteningly young officer grinned. “That we were, sergeant, that we were, but there seems to be some slight local objection to that idea!”

Bob laughed, and it was genuine. “Aye, sir, and at least half a dozen bloody panzer divisions in’t way. Little battle groups like this one, though, that’s their style. Had that in North Africa, had it in fuc--- bloody Italy. Come forward, rush back, we go after and the guns are waiting. Sorry, sir, we can’t stay out in front of you. That’s what they want. Over to you now”

The younger man sighed. “Oh Lord, don’t I know it. My problem is that the boys know it as well as we do, and it makes it no easier. How much H.E. are you carrying?”

“Ernie?”

“Aye?”

“How many rounds left, how many A.P. in the mix?”

“Two thirds of the load left, Sarge, and half of that is A.P. That’s twenty two of each”

The officer nodded. “Would you be able to use your troop as close-support artillery for an hour or two?”

“Well, sir, we are the recon troops, us and eight troop”

A very, very tired grin. “Not for now, Sergeant. This is where the East Ridings will have to do some work. I have a field telephone going forward. There are some buildings in the next froggery I would like rebuilt in a more accommodating style, so if you could oblige I would be grateful. Our F.O.O. will be out there shortly, once his carriage arrives. Ah! I do believe we have the very chap!”

A Sherman was lumbering over the open ground like some rubber duck gone wrong, and shortly another, older officer was sharing the conversation.

“Afternoon, Godfrey, thank you for joining us”

“Not at all, Matthew; I was in the area anyway”

I was watching the older man closely, and where the subaltern’s manner was almost a caricature of the suave young man he clearly hoped to become, ‘Godfrey’ was taut as a wire. It came to me a little later: he looked just like I felt, absolutely wetting himself but doing his best not to show it. ‘Matthew’ continued.

“Got a small froggery forward, Godfrey—“

“Beg pardon?”

“Froggery. Like a Woggery, but French. Village, yes?”

“Ah. And?”

“Boys on the Q.T. have seen activity there. Windows removed, overturned wagons. No livestock. I rather suspect Jerry has decided to block us once more. Our donkey-walloping chums here---“

Bob chipped in. “With all due respect sir, we’re R.T.R. and not cavalry”

“My apologies, Sergeant. As one was saying, our armoured chums here will be able to donate a few of their explosive devices to rearrange some of the village, which should get some movement into them. If they rush out, I have a mortar section, but I would rather drop something heavier on them, just in case they themselves have a larger relative close by”

I whispered to Bob. “He doing that deliberately?”

“Later, Ginge”

The two officers moved away, and Bob whispered again. “Kiddy, trying to sound big but wetting his trousers. The older bloke, though, he’s not got much left. Got the stare and the twitch”

‘Matthew’ was back. “All set, Sergeant? Yes? Good-oh! My chaps have spotted some low-lying for you No line of fire except from the rooftops, but I doubt they will be able to levitate their heavier weapons. I will ask you to perforate their lofts for us, and then we shall see what is shaken loose.

Twenty minutes later, and I was peering through some twigs and leaves at the second floors of some smashed-up buildings sitting seven hundred yards away. I set my sight just to the left of a large dormer window and waited. Bob had the phone ready.

“Load H.E. and await order”

Ernie slapped my shoulder. Ready. Silence… a tinny voice came out of the handset; clearly the young officer was shouting. Bob’s voice was clearer.

“Shoot! Right five. Ernie?”

A slap. “Aye!”

“Shoot!”

The roof collapsed just as my second round went out. Bob was still on the phone. “Lots of movement, boys. Ginge, another H.E. if you don’t mind, then Ernie, I want A.P. in. This is not good”

Another slap, and then a quiet groan from Bob. “Get that one off now, Ginge! Shoot!”

Crash, rock. “Ernie, armour piercing NOW! Driver reverse!”

The breech banged shut, and we crept slowly back. Bob was hushed.

“Harry, back slowly but directly to that copse. Keep it slow and quiet. Ginge, target right twenty degrees. Do NOT engage”

The turret swung round as my sight swept over the double muzzle brake and the stupidly big gun of a Tiger. It flashed, and I saw the glowing round streak across the open ground now coming into view. There was a loud explosion, and Bob began to swear.

“Bernie’s gone”