Tramp in Armour (35 page)

The first stage involved careful cooperation between Barnes
and the farmer because the wooden beams were enormously
heavy and extremely unwieldy. They tied one rope tightly
round the end of the longest beam and then began to invert it
so that the roped end was lifted over their heads. As the huge
beam rose higher and higher Barnes kept a firm grip on the
loose end of the rope. The beam was slowly moving up to the
vertical but the really tricky part was coming when they tried
to Control its falling movement as it passed beyond the verti
cal, lowering it under control so that the far end could be
dropped just below the right-hand track and form a bridge to
dry land - if the beam would reach that far. The beam reached
its apex and began to topple. They just managed to prevent it
crashing down as they both held-on to the rope, and the farmer
was sensible enough to let Barnes guide its controlled fall. It
dropped lower and lower, scraped the front end of the right-
hand track and settled. Would it begin sinking or had they
managed to prop it on the tip of the island? The lights of the
tractor were again beamed directly on the tank and as far as he
could tell the beam was stable.

'Nice work,' shouted Colburn. 'Looks OK to me.'

'Right. Now for the next one.'

The second beam was successfully manoeuvred in direct
line with the left-hand track, but it fell short. Not more than a
foot, Colburn informed him, but it had fallen short of the
island and was sinking slowly. Slowly? Barnes wondered - did
that mean it had settled on a patch of fairly firm ground? The quagmire must be unusually solid at this particular point if a
beam of such enormous weight was sinking slowly - whereas
Barnes had felt his leg knifing through the -mud. They'd just have to risk it, and at least they had the two beams placed so
that they formed a bridge from the present position of the tank
to the shore. He reached up and felt his shoulder gingerly. He'd ripped that wound open again. When he was lowering
the second beam he had been aware of a slow tearing sensation
and now he could feel stickiness round the edge of the dress
ing. He set about enlisting the farmer's aid for the final, pos
sibly fatal, stage, and this time he was able to explain quickly
what he wanted by sign language. They undid the tow-lines from the iron stakes after the farmer had reversed his tractor,
then re-attached them to the rear of the tractor, Barnes tried to
explain that he must synchronize his movements with those of
the tank - that they must both move at the same moment, and
he hoped to God that the farmer understood that the signal
would be when Barnes shouted 'Maintenant'. Now. Since the
farmer went on repeating the word about two dozen times Barnes felt that he had probably grasped it. Now to get back to the tank.

He was careful to choose the right-hand timber and when he
walked along it he lit his way with his torch beam which
splayed over the edge, showing a gleam of insidious ooze wait
ing for him where the crust had broken. Reaching the tank, he
checked the position of the timbers. The right-hand one was fine, perfect, in fact, but the left-hand one wasn't at all good.
The breadth of the gap between timber and island looked more
like eighteen inches. He explained it carefully to Reynolds.

'You'll have to reverse back along exactly the course we
came over - then the tracks will move along the beams. This
isn't going to be a picnic and you might as well know what
could go wrong. The beams could crack under Bert's weight,
and they probably will at some stage. One of them could slip
off this island after we've started. Or your tracks could slip off
the beams - take your choice.'

'Not much of a choice, is it, Sergeant? But we can't stay
here.'

'That's the whole point - we've got to risk it. You'll have
to follow my orders very precisely. I've fixed up with that farmer chap to shout "Maintenant" when we're coming, and
I'll do that as soon as you start moving. He'll drive his tractor
like hell to help pull us out - every extra bit of power might
just turn the trick. That's why he's revving up now.'

'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 privi
leged person. There won't be any passengers on this trip.'

Reynolds moved on to the front of the turret to lower him
self 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 Rey
nolds 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, sud
denly, 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.