CHAPTER 7
We got the news over the net piecemeal, and then three or four days later we had a formal announcement by a visiting staff officer, his shoes clearly unused to the snow and frozen mud that covered our leaguer and rest area. We formed the usual hollow square and he spoke in the usual public-school whine.

“Gentlemen, the Boche has attacked in numbers through the Ardennes, and our American friends have received rather an unpleasant Christmas present of a lot of tanks and men. Monty has decided that they are either attempting to split us from our friends, or perhaps recapture Antwerp, or both at once. They would appear to be using some of their better units, and unfortunately they chose a slack point to assail. Our man has a close eye on the situation and action will be taken when he has the full gen. I ask you, however, to ready yourselves for the fray. Everything shipshape and Bristol fashion, what?”

Wilf muttered next to my ear. “Don’t think Stan would look quite right with a funnel, lad”

The Major looked round at our weary faces, for that is how I am sure the lads were feeling, for it was how I felt. Rolling up the Germans had been messy and frightening, but it was steady work, and they were usually moving away from us. This was going right back to what we had suffered through in the Summer.

“Any questions, gentlemen?”

One of the lads I didn’t know had his hand up first. The Major pointed his stick at him.

“Yes?”

“Sir, these Ardennes. Aren’t they where Jerry came through in ’40?”

“Absolutely!”

“Then why weren’t they being watched this time round?”

The crisply turned-out officer gave a wry smile. “Well may you ask that question, my man, well may you ask it. For whatever reason, events have taken this course and we can but respond to them as best we can, as we must. Now, the weather has been beastly—“

There was a shout of “We have noticed—sir!” from some hidden man.

“Yes, yes. Rather inclement for you all, I am sure, but it is the effect on our aerial reconnaissance that is crucial for the present. That will mean we will require information about the Boche, his strengths, his deployment and movement, and we will have to acquire it in the old-fashioned way. Gentlemen, when Monty decides his course of action, you will be the eyes and ears of the entire army. We are assembling units back from that little adventure in Holland, but for the moment we will have to use those such as yourselves. All troop leaders remain with me. Dismissed!”

Wilf turned to me again. “Time for a brew?”

“Oh go on then. Get it while we can”

I could feel the double meaning in that one. I spent the next two hours checking every part I could of my weapons, and then helping the other lads stow the ammo. The order to move came early the next morning, as our captain held his own conference with the tank commanders, Bob included.

He was quiet when he came back. “It’s been bloody for the Yanks, boys. Bloody SS is back in the area, and they’ve got some of the new King Tigers as well a lot of Panthers. Monty has decided that we need to keep them away from some bridges, so we’re going to head down by the river and get hull-down as best we can. We’re not on a swan this time; Hussars have got that rubbish passed to them. Oh, one other thing: Jerries are using men dressed as our lot to bugger us about. Traffic signals, bogus Monkeys, that sort of thing. I’ve got hold of two of these for Stanley. Ginge, I’d like you to carry one”

He had two belts holding holsters, and I must have looked a bit puzzled.

“Two of us will be heads out, and getting a Tommy Gun through that hatch will be a right bastard job, so we’ll have these Webleys. Just in case, right?”

He sighed again. “Look, lad, if we get any of these fancy-dress artists they’ll look like MPs, and that means they’ll be close enough to speak to. Neither of your weapons will be able to bear on them, and Wilf can’t fire round corners, can he? Just take it, and try not to get it hooked up on anything important”

We moved off a couple of hours later, and the weight of the big .45 pistol on my belt felt odd. The snow was still coming down, and I had my goggles on as well as Mam’s balaclava helmet, my beret on top as I added my eyes to Bob’s. We reached the river, and Bob dismounted in his usual way to look for a decent place to lie up. As always, he wanted one with not just a decent exit to the rear but with at least one secondary hide to duck back to. I have always felt that the only reason I survived that long was because of his skill and eye for the land. Without him, I would have been dead several times over. As we waited, a jeep came along with a couple of Monkeys, military policemen, and I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. That sounds trite, but it was what I actually felt, as they tried to tangle with the wool of my balaclava.

Bob turned to them as they pulled up. “How do, lads”

“Very well, Sergeant. Just need you to resite. Jerry’s changed his line of advance, and you’re needed a couple of miles west of here”

“I’ve heard nowt on the net”

“Oh, there are big problems with radio reception at the moment”

Ernie shook his head sharply at that, pointing to the headset he was wearing while Bob was on his shufty. He tapped the right earpiece and gave me a clear thumbs up. I took out the heavy pistol and used my own thumb to remove the safety and then pulled the hammer back. Keep your finger outside the guard, Gerald…

I kept that hand down as I stood up, then brought it out under cover of the forward hatch cover.

“Where are these boys from, Robert?”

Something must have shown in my voice or expression, because I was never a good actor, and one of them grabbed for his own pistol as I shot him in what turned out to be the throat. Bob was wrestling with the other bastard but my scramble out of the turret turned into farce as the bloody holster caught on the bloody hatch. It was Wilf who was out first, sideways through his hatch and straight into it with a boot to the bastard’s back, then another and I was out and running, ramming the muzzle into the bastard’s face and feeling his teeth break. That was when he stopped struggling, and I began worrying that I had shot a real redcap and not a Jerry.

My target was still twitching, breath rattling in his throat, but he had sprayed so much blood everywhere that he was never going to live. Bob was up now, his opponent still down, my pistol still in his mouth.

“How’d you know, Ginge?”

“Ernie overheard. Net’s fine. Tried to give you a warning, like”

“Aye. That was right clever, lad. Now, take that gun out of his gob, but keep it by his face, close as you like, aye? Oh, and…”

I caught his gaze, and cocked the bloody pistol again. Shit.

Bob turned to our new friend as his own finally shut up and died. “Now then, Sunny Jim, who the fucking hell are you, and while you’re answering that, give me a fucking good reason why we shouldn’t just shoot you now”

Wilf was still breathing hard, clearly furious. “Shoot the bastard now, Ginge!”

Bob’s voice was quieter. “My decisions here, Wilf. Mine alone. Ernie, call up Sunray and get someone down here. Wilf, some rope out of the gash bin. Get this bastard nice and secure, quick as you like”

We trussed him from ankles to chest and left him lying in the snow. He asked one question, after giving us the usual litany of name, rank and number, which were still British. Lying bastard, I thought. His question was whether he could sit up out of the snow, and Bob’s answer was direct.

“Those uniforms you are wearing, those boots on your feet, that jeep, they came from at least two of my chums, two of my comrades, perhaps even two of my pals. I don’t care if you bloody well freeze your fucking bollocks off, because I am having difficulty in not shooting you in the belly and leaving you to bleed to death. So you lie there, quiet as you like, until my boss sends someone down to pick you up”

He turned to Stan. “Harry, twenty yards that way, there’s a big house with a front lawn. Dip in the lawn behind the hedge. Wilf, walk him into it”

Looking down at the dead man, he nodded to me. “That was good work, lad. But I think we need to work out some way of hanging these bloody things in the turret. If that had been you getting out after we got hit, you’d be toast now.”

He looked up and shouted after Wilf.

“Yes you can, lad! You know how we take it!”

The East Riding boys were down in half an hour, and they took both living and dead, using the jeep. When we got back to Stan, Wilf was grinning.

“Look what I found in their shed!”

Four big cans of whitewash and some brushes. Bob laughed out loud. “Nice one, son! We’ll finish this brew and get brushing. Ginge, one job for you, but has to be done”

He looked up the road to where he had fought with the German.

“Shovel some fresh snow over the stains, please”