The Iron Stallions (31 page)

‘What about losses, sir?’ Josh asked quietly. ‘Are fifty per cent acceptable?’

Leduc cleared his throat and looked Josh in the eye. ‘The Army commander’s prepared to accept one hundred per cent,’ he said.

The news spread like wildfire and the fitters and drivers who had dismantled engines hurriedly began to reassemble them. Radio operators were collecting batteries, gunners oiled breech blocks. There was an air of strained excitement everywhere.

Calling Reeves to his command truck, Josh handed the Regiment over.

‘It’s yours, Toby,’ he said.

Reeves looked faintly awed. ‘Well, well,’ he said slowly. ‘I never thought I’d live to see the day. Commanding officer of the 19th.’

Josh handed him a drink. ‘Better wet its head.’

They lifted their mugs and smiled at each other.

‘How’s my godson?’ Reeves asked.

Eddie Orne’s wondering when we should buy him his first horse.’

As they sipped their drinks, Josh explained what Leduc had said. Reeves’ face stiffened and grew hard.

‘It’s going to be grim,’ he said.

‘I’m afraid so, Toby. We’ll have order group at five o’clock, move up to the start line in the dark and set off at first light. We have to get across the railway line and all those canal bridges before we can start to deploy.’

The rest of the day was occupied with conferences with the commanding officers of the artillery, the infantry and the engineers, whose men were already placing tapes to the canal. The bridges were swept by machine-gun fire and men were being lost all the time. Working out the last details, surrounded by maps and lists of codes and code names, Josh’s mind was filled with the incessant hum and crackle of the wireless sets linking him to his regiments and to Division. When the commanding officers appeared, Josh gave them the news quietly.

‘There are no orders,’ he said. ‘Or few worth speaking of. We move up in double line ahead in three groups – the Derbyshires through Ossenheim, the Hussars through Unterhüder, the Lancers through Disendorf. Lorried infantry will accompany and the Sappers are arranging lights and tapes. There are bridges over the canal at Misdorf, Arlangen and Münnerheim. On the other side we deploy and join hands, moving forward at first light. 92nd Armoured will move into our position and follow up in support. Other than that, the orders are simply to go through that line of guns. We don’t stop until we’ve breached it.’

There was a long silence then Bredon, the colonel of the Derbyshires, pulled a face. Josh had known him for years. He had land not far south of Braxby and they had often hunted and fished together. He whistled slowly. ‘Sticky,’ he observed.

‘Yes,’ Josh agreed. ‘I’m afraid it is. Artillery’s been laid on, of course. As soon as we’re through, the infantry will have another go at their ridge and it’s hoped they’ll make it this time. The question seems to be not how long it will take us but how many will arrive.’

The Hussar colonel lit a cigarette. ‘I wouldn’t like to hazard a guess,’ he admitted. ‘We’re all a bit tired. The clockwork’s beginning to run down.’

When they’d gone, Josh stared at the map for a moment, his mind far away. Then his thoughts congealed.

‘Cannon to right of them

Cannon to left of them

Cannon in front of them

Volleyed and thundered.’

As a schoolboy he had often recited Tennyson’s poem on the Light Brigade and never without thinking of his grandfather and how it must have seemed to him. Now he would know. More than once they had been asked to sacrifice themselves for the general good but never to this extent. One hundred per cent casualties. He could guess what it would do to his command. When it was over there probably wouldn’t be a command. But no soldier could avoid casualties in the field and worrying about them was a dangerous business. Yet no soldier could ignore the fact that he held men’s lives in his hand and his father, he remembered, had been disgusted with the indifference of the generals in the other war. It was a decision he knew he had to face without flinching.

He sat for a while longer then he decided he’d better tell Louise of his promotion. ‘Tell Rosie,’ he said, ‘that she has at last got a general – at least a sort of general – for a father.’

He tried not to make the letter over-dramatic and gave no details of what lay ahead, but he made his feelings very clear and tried to indicate what he had hoped for and what he hoped she would do in the event of anything happening to him. Then he realised he was trying to give the impression that he was about to become a hero because he was on the point of being involved in a massacre. But, since it would all be over before his letter arrived, she’d be able to make up her own mind on that score, and if he didn’t survive there would be nothing he could do. All his hopes and plans were in Louise’s small and honest hands and he was certain she’d never let him down.

He tore the letter across and started again, forcing himself to be cheerful and newsy without giving anything away, asking about the children and the new arrival, wanting to know how Braxby looked, saying how much he looked forward to the fighting being over so he could come home. When it was finished, he handed it to his orderly who promised to see it was posted and walked towards his tank. With another Goff at Braxby, he decided he could accept the thought of dying.

The night was cold and very dark, the stars providing no substitute for the unrisen moon. Leduc arrived with last- minute instructions and Josh took the opportunity to make clear his own position.

‘I shall be going in with them,’ he said.

Leduc nodded. ‘I think I’d do the same.’

The nearest tanks were the 19th Lancers and he moved among them, talking to officers, NCOs and men. Some of them, newly out from England since D-Day, looked mere boys. Among them, however, was a sprinkling of old hands, some of them from the desert, men who had seen too much of war.

Dodgin grinned. ‘Here we go again.’

One more time, Syd. God willing, just one more time.’

The crews seemed pleased to find him among them and he hoped his presence helped.

‘I’ll be coming with you,’ he pointed out, and that seemed to please them, too. It never went down badly when the brass was up at the sharp end.

The padre was handing out cigarettes to men whose pockets were already bulging with them, asking if there was anything he could do. They were all polite because he had never been one to hang back when there was trouble, always willing to lend a hand at jacking up a lorry or help a swearing man with a damaged track. The fitter sergeant and a crowd of men in grimy denims were swarming over a tank that was losing a lot of oil, and, contrary to all orders, the second-in-command and the Sergeant-Major, who should have been well to the rear, turned up in a hurry, to make sure everybody had everything they needed. Then a three-tonner arrived and the tailboard dropped to reveal cooks ready to issue bacon sandwiches and tea.

Over a steaming mug, Reeves offered Josh a cigarette. There was no sign of his old extrovert manner.

‘Here goes the last of the Reeves,’ he said.

‘Don’t say that, Toby.’

Reeves smiled. ‘Didn’t mean it really. Just quoting another feller who found himself in a similar situation. Didn’t Cardigan say that when he was about to lead the Light Brigade at Balaclava?’

‘So my grandfather said,’ Josh admitted. ‘He survived nevertheless.’

It was impossible to get round all the regiments, but he sent a message by radio to the colonel of the Hussars to pass on to his men, and the jeep carried him to the Yeomanry. As the time grew near, he climbed into his command tank and sat with his maps open, trying to think, when the only thing in his mind was that of the men he had just spoken to many might well be dead before the day was out.

They left at midnight, faced with an approach march to the start line of eleven miles. They numbered over a hundred tanks, few of which were new. Even the replacements given them after their dash across France and the Low Countries were in a shocking state. Nothing fitted. Nothing worked. Guns, compasses and radios were all giving trouble.

The phase of the moon would allow them little time and they had accepted the likelihood of casualties, but they didn’t argue. Their only fear was the time factor, and they pressed forward urgently to be certain of being in place.

They were soon in trouble. The darkness, the dust and the head wind plagued them, and, struggling to peer through his aperture, Ackroyd was choked with dust.

‘I’m eating the bloody stuff,’ he complained.

At one point, they cannoned off another tank moving alongside and behind them the thin-skinned vehicles were getting stuck in the ditches at the side of the road. Anti-tank fire started on the left and on the right the night seemed on fire as German artillery began to speak. The guide lights appeared to have been blown aside by the shellfire, and, with Disendorf burning ahead of them, Josh decided that somehow the Germans had guessed what was coming. The Hussars reported that they had lost a tank on a mine, while Bredon had lost four, two to shellfire, one to a mine and one to a mechanical breakdown.

The tapes to the canal bridges had also disappeared and the route ahead was blocked by men and trucks. Engineers warned them to remain where they were, then a jeep drew up, swung in a half circle, and an officer ran through the drifting smoke and clambered on to Josh’s tank.

‘Get up as quickly as you can, sir,’ he yelled. ‘Or you’ll run into trouble.’

Calling up his lead tanks, Josh ordered Pallovicini to push forward as fast as he could. The smoke had blotted out the moon and it was impossible to see, but Pallovicini climbed down and walked in front, shining a torch, and the column began to move again, nose-to-tail, each driver watching the light of the vehicle ahead.

Pallovicini was still on the bridge as Josh passed, a slim young figure, his face set, trying to appear nonchalant. As they fanned out at the other side, the persistent shellfire began to fall among them. There were no houses at this point, just the slope of the valley, and they could hear the outside of the tanks being spattered by machine-gun bullets and splinters. A tank on Josh’s right exploded into flame and the crew baled out and began to head rearwards.

‘That’s six to my knowledge,’ Ackroyd said.

They moved forward again, climbing a rise. Almost at once there was a terrible clang that shuddered the tank and flung it back on its rear bogies, then the groan of the suspension and the crunching of metal that showed a track had been hit. As they lurched to a stop, Josh yelled for his crew to follow and, scrambling from the tank and running to the next in line, ordered the other crew out so they could wriggle into their places.

‘Get a fresh track on,’ he yelled above the noise of the firing, ‘and follow.’

The other crew pretended to be disappointed but everybody knew the hazardous nature of the operation and it wasn’t hard to catch the looks of relief.

By this time, the lorried infantry which had set off with them had been scattered. In addition, the Yeomanry had not arrived because they’d been thrown out by an unexpected minefield that had disabled three more of their tanks, and they’d been obliged to turn round and return to a point where they could head in a new direction.

Bredon’s voice came up on the radio, calm and brisk. ‘The bastards have sewn anti-personnel mines,’ he said. ‘Several of my chaps were killed escaping.’

‘Daisy Leader.’ This time it was young Pallovicini. ‘This is Daisy Baker One. I’m in position. Can I start now? I think I could get among the guns while it’s still dark.’

Josh was anxious that the breach they made should be as wide as possible, and he interrupted.

‘No, Daisy Baker One. Wait. We want to make the breach brigade – not regimental – width. We also need the Yeomanry up and 92nd Brigade to be within reach.’

They reached their forming-up area behind the crest of a low hill. The road that ran through the valley was to be the line of the attack, with one regiment either side of it, and one moving up just behind. The ground was pockmarked with craters and the air was noisy with Spandau fire.

‘Where’s the infantry?’ Josh asked, and as he spoke he saw men plodding into view in groups of ten and fifteen.

As the squadrons deployed into position, reports came in of more losses from mines. The Yeomanry was also reporting radio failures, and Bredon was sitting on the front of his tank, choked with dust, trying to shout orders to his driver through the aperture.

The night was noisy with desultory firing from guns and mortars, but Josh didn’t deceive himself that the growling of the engines and the creak and squeal of the tracks had gone unnoticed.

‘If the Germans can’t hear us getting ready, sir,’ Ackroyd said, ‘they must be deaf.’

Josh managed a smile. ‘Unlike horsed cavalry, Tyas,’ he said, ‘we can’t muffle the jingle of our harness.’

There was a long wait in the darkness with everybody looking nervously at his watch. Dismounting, Josh crossed to Toby Reeves who was standing talking to a group of officers. As Josh appeared, he waved his officers away. They seemed relaxed and eager to be off and Josh knew Reeves had not passed on the message that one hundred per cent casualties could be expected. Not every man could feel the same way as the general.

‘Who’s leading, Toby?’

‘B Squadron. Still young Pallovicini. He looks rather a pale flower but there’s a lot of gristle underneath. I shall be right behind.’

‘I shall be up with you.’

Reeves’ eyebrows lifted and Josh smiled. ‘If one hundred per cent casualties are to be expected,’ he pointed out quietly, ‘then I can’t exclude myself’

There seemed a remarkable calmness about them all as they waited, each man busy at his own particular job. They all knew there were guns on either side and ahead of them and a minefield across their path, and there were dead and wounded lying about already as an indication of what might happen.

Placing his tank close to Pallovicini’s in the van of the attack, Josh ordered his brigade major to follow him at an interval of ten yards, and watched as regimental and squadron commanders went about on foot, giving last-minute orders.