bullets now crashed into the wall from a party of grey-clad men, bayonets drawn, who emerged from the ruined houses. Damn! Which way to run? He must out-think them. Make them think they were being surrounded. He ran further to his right and then doubled back to bring him, he hoped, further behind the Germans’ left flank.
Now he could see a group of some twenty of the enemy cautiously edging their way through the ruins. He inserted another clip into his magazine – thank God he was not still armed with the old single-shot Lee-Metford! – took aim and let loose a succession of six shots quickly, working the bolt so that his thumb ached. He was not too particular about aiming carefully, for speed was preferable to accuracy, but even so, he brought down a further three men before he doubled back on himself.
This time, however, he was seen and a fusillade of shots followed him. Running like a hare, he turned and ran back into the heart of the village, back towards what he hoped would be the rear of Yates’s position, if he had been able to fall back in good order. He easily outdistanced whatever pursuit had been mounted, turned and was relieved to hear gunfire coming from ahead of him, this time. Then he caught a glimpse of a khaki-clad jacket and shouted: ‘It’s Hickman. I’m behind you.’
A familiar voice responded. ‘God bless you, Jimmy. Come on in with your head down, for they seem to be all around us, lad.’
Within a moment, having shaken Bertie’s hand, he was reporting to Yates, whose left arm was bleeding and the hand tucked into his open jacket.
‘Well done, Hickman, but I didn’t expect you to come back, for God’s sake. You say they are on the right of us now?’
‘Yes sir. I think you’d better make a run for it.’
‘No. Must retreat in good order, or they’ll mow us down as we go.’ The captain smiled ruefully. ‘We’ve lost about half of our men, including Lieutenant Baxter and Sergeant Wilkins and the other corporal. I don’t want to lose the rest. Now, you’re my second in command. You take seven men, including your sharpshooter friend, and fall back about a hundred and fifty yards. I will cover you with what is left. Then we will fall back through you as you fire over our heads to cover our retreat. Then you must retreat similarly as we cover you. Got it? An orderly retreat, eh?’
‘Of course, sir. But you’re wounded. Why don’t you go first?’
‘No, it’s only a scratch. Get your men and off you go. No time to waste.’
Jim nodded and scampered among the men touching every other one on the shoulder as they fired from a variety of types of cover. Then, as the captain and the rest set up covering fire, they all ran back, stumbling in the broken ground until Hickman judged they had gone far enough. He detailed Bertie to take up position on the extreme right of their position to warn of any outflanking movement and spread his men as widely as possible behind whatever cover they could find. Then he shouted back to Yates: ‘Ready, sir.’
So began their retreat under fire. They could not possibly have regained the British lines if the colonel had not sent a skirmishing party out into the village to meet them, for they were vastly outnumbered and also enfiladed from either flank. As it was, they lost three moremen but the covering fire of the rescue party was strong enough for them to limp back under its protection to where a rough-and-ready line had been erected in a curve projecting along the top of the ridge. There they found sanctuary.
‘Thank you, Hickman,’ said Yates. ‘You saved what was left of us. Now get down into the line. I think it’s going to be a rough evening.’
The Germans were upon them within ten minutes, firing from mortars, heavy machine guns and rifles as they spread out amongst the ruins. It became clear that the colonel’s command was heavily outnumbered and, indeed, outgunned, for it lacked mortars and machine guns. Yet the marksmanship of
Now he could see a group of some twenty of the enemy cautiously edging their way through the ruins. He inserted another clip into his magazine – thank God he was not still armed with the old single-shot Lee-Metford! – took aim and let loose a succession of six shots quickly, working the bolt so that his thumb ached. He was not too particular about aiming carefully, for speed was preferable to accuracy, but even so, he brought down a further three men before he doubled back on himself.
This time, however, he was seen and a fusillade of shots followed him. Running like a hare, he turned and ran back into the heart of the village, back towards what he hoped would be the rear of Yates’s position, if he had been able to fall back in good order. He easily outdistanced whatever pursuit had been mounted, turned and was relieved to hear gunfire coming from ahead of him, this time. Then he caught a glimpse of a khaki-clad jacket and shouted: ‘It’s Hickman. I’m behind you.’
A familiar voice responded. ‘God bless you, Jimmy. Come on in with your head down, for they seem to be all around us, lad.’
Within a moment, having shaken Bertie’s hand, he was reporting to Yates, whose left arm was bleeding and the hand tucked into his open jacket.
‘Well done, Hickman, but I didn’t expect you to come back, for God’s sake. You say they are on the right of us now?’
‘Yes sir. I think you’d better make a run for it.’
‘No. Must retreat in good order, or they’ll mow us down as we go.’ The captain smiled ruefully. ‘We’ve lost about half of our men, including Lieutenant Baxter and Sergeant Wilkins and the other corporal. I don’t want to lose the rest. Now, you’re my second in command. You take seven men, including your sharpshooter friend, and fall back about a hundred and fifty yards. I will cover you with what is left. Then we will fall back through you as you fire over our heads to cover our retreat. Then you must retreat similarly as we cover you. Got it? An orderly retreat, eh?’
‘Of course, sir. But you’re wounded. Why don’t you go first?’
‘No, it’s only a scratch. Get your men and off you go. No time to waste.’
Jim nodded and scampered among the men touching every other one on the shoulder as they fired from a variety of types of cover. Then, as the captain and the rest set up covering fire, they all ran back, stumbling in the broken ground until Hickman judged they had gone far enough. He detailed Bertie to take up position on the extreme right of their position to warn of any outflanking movement and spread his men as widely as possible behind whatever cover they could find. Then he shouted back to Yates: ‘Ready, sir.’
So began their retreat under fire. They could not possibly have regained the British lines if the colonel had not sent a skirmishing party out into the village to meet them, for they were vastly outnumbered and also enfiladed from either flank. As it was, they lost three moremen but the covering fire of the rescue party was strong enough for them to limp back under its protection to where a rough-and-ready line had been erected in a curve projecting along the top of the ridge. There they found sanctuary.
‘Thank you, Hickman,’ said Yates. ‘You saved what was left of us. Now get down into the line. I think it’s going to be a rough evening.’
The Germans were upon them within ten minutes, firing from mortars, heavy machine guns and rifles as they spread out amongst the ruins. It became clear that the colonel’s command was heavily outnumbered and, indeed, outgunned, for it lacked mortars and machine guns. Yet the marksmanship of
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