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Authors: Colin Forbes
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you.'
'Steady on, laddie,' Penn interjected. 'I said you'd have to ask Sergeant Barnes and that isn't the same thing at all.'
Barnes opened his mouth to say that he couldn't come under any circumstances and then he changed his mind. There was no point in antagonizing the lad before they left Fontaine. Instead, he asked a question.
'Where did you learn to speak such good English?'
'Thank you, Sergeant.' Pierre glowed with pride % 'My father sent me to spend six months with the British firm of Vickers in Birmingham so that I could learn about British weapons. They tell me that I have a Midland accent.'
'You'd better go and talk to Trooper Reynolds, Pierre, while I have a look at -the tank with Corporal Penn.'
Barnes started to explain to Penn how the machine-pistol worked, handing the weapon to him to demonstrate a point while Pierre was leaving the building.
'The temptation with this gun is to hold on to the magazine, but you've got to grasp it higher up just under the barrel ... that doctor, Lepin, did you talk to him much while he was here looking after me?'
'Hardly at all - he's a very quiet type and I left Pierre to interpret for me.'
'You've been into Fontaine yourself?'
'No, I kept well clear of it except when I visited Lepin's garden shed to hear the news. I thought the Germans might occupy the place at any moment and I wanted to lie low till you were better.'
'Who owns these buildings - they belong to some farmer, I imagine?'
'Yes, they do, but he's cleared out with the refugees so we should be all right here for a while until the roads are quieter. The main one through Fontaine is still crammed with refugee traffic and the place itself is lousy with them. We may have to sit it out here for several days.'
'Get the map for me, Penn. Staying in one spot behind the German lines for four days isn't a healthy idea at all and I'd say our luck is due to run out at any moment. We must get moving.'
'You've only just got up...'
'And I intend to stay up. Warn Reynolds to make any last minute checks he thinks necessary so that we're ready to move at a moment's notice. And I could do with something to eat if there's anything left.'
The atmosphere was changing already with every word Barnes said, and Penn could sense it. A feeling of urgency had begun to animate Barnes and that feeling communicated itself to Penn, but he made one last effort.
'I still think you ought to rest up at least...'
'I'm going into Fontaine with Pierre to see for myself. When I get back we must be ready to move. Make no mistake about it, Penn, we'll be out of this place well before nightfall.'
The feeling that they ought to be on the move, away from this place, tugged insistently at Barnes as he marched steadily along the road to Fontaine with Pierre. The afternoon sun shone down brilliantly over the fields of France, beating down on their faces and warming their hands, a physical sensation of pure heat. Barnes had two reasons for his reconnaissance: he wanted to smell the atmosphere for himself and he wanted to test his own staying power. The blazing sunshine added to the discomfort of his wound, so that now as well as the throb-throb he could also feel a pricking sensation round the edges of his dressing, a sensation which made him wont to tear off the bandage. His head was aching and he walked rigidly, forcing himself to take long strides, each footfall thudding up into the sensitive shoulder like the impact of a small road-bumper. But he was still on his feet, so he was all right. In his holster he carried the Webley .455 revolver and the flap was unbuttoned.
'There's the village, Sergeant Barnes.'
'What on earth is that lot on the road?'
'They are the refugees. They go through Fontaine all day and all night. It is difficult to cross the main square.'
A grey slate church spire rose up from a huddle of stone walled buildings and from that distance they could see on both sides of the village a road which ran at right-angles to the
'Steady on, laddie,' Penn interjected. 'I said you'd have to ask Sergeant Barnes and that isn't the same thing at all.'
Barnes opened his mouth to say that he couldn't come under any circumstances and then he changed his mind. There was no point in antagonizing the lad before they left Fontaine. Instead, he asked a question.
'Where did you learn to speak such good English?'
'Thank you, Sergeant.' Pierre glowed with pride % 'My father sent me to spend six months with the British firm of Vickers in Birmingham so that I could learn about British weapons. They tell me that I have a Midland accent.'
'You'd better go and talk to Trooper Reynolds, Pierre, while I have a look at -the tank with Corporal Penn.'
Barnes started to explain to Penn how the machine-pistol worked, handing the weapon to him to demonstrate a point while Pierre was leaving the building.
'The temptation with this gun is to hold on to the magazine, but you've got to grasp it higher up just under the barrel ... that doctor, Lepin, did you talk to him much while he was here looking after me?'
'Hardly at all - he's a very quiet type and I left Pierre to interpret for me.'
'You've been into Fontaine yourself?'
'No, I kept well clear of it except when I visited Lepin's garden shed to hear the news. I thought the Germans might occupy the place at any moment and I wanted to lie low till you were better.'
'Who owns these buildings - they belong to some farmer, I imagine?'
'Yes, they do, but he's cleared out with the refugees so we should be all right here for a while until the roads are quieter. The main one through Fontaine is still crammed with refugee traffic and the place itself is lousy with them. We may have to sit it out here for several days.'
'Get the map for me, Penn. Staying in one spot behind the German lines for four days isn't a healthy idea at all and I'd say our luck is due to run out at any moment. We must get moving.'
'You've only just got up...'
'And I intend to stay up. Warn Reynolds to make any last minute checks he thinks necessary so that we're ready to move at a moment's notice. And I could do with something to eat if there's anything left.'
The atmosphere was changing already with every word Barnes said, and Penn could sense it. A feeling of urgency had begun to animate Barnes and that feeling communicated itself to Penn, but he made one last effort.
'I still think you ought to rest up at least...'
'I'm going into Fontaine with Pierre to see for myself. When I get back we must be ready to move. Make no mistake about it, Penn, we'll be out of this place well before nightfall.'
The feeling that they ought to be on the move, away from this place, tugged insistently at Barnes as he marched steadily along the road to Fontaine with Pierre. The afternoon sun shone down brilliantly over the fields of France, beating down on their faces and warming their hands, a physical sensation of pure heat. Barnes had two reasons for his reconnaissance: he wanted to smell the atmosphere for himself and he wanted to test his own staying power. The blazing sunshine added to the discomfort of his wound, so that now as well as the throb-throb he could also feel a pricking sensation round the edges of his dressing, a sensation which made him wont to tear off the bandage. His head was aching and he walked rigidly, forcing himself to take long strides, each footfall thudding up into the sensitive shoulder like the impact of a small road-bumper. But he was still on his feet, so he was all right. In his holster he carried the Webley .455 revolver and the flap was unbuttoned.
'There's the village, Sergeant Barnes.'
'What on earth is that lot on the road?'
'They are the refugees. They go through Fontaine all day and all night. It is difficult to cross the main square.'
A grey slate church spire rose up from a huddle of stone walled buildings and from that distance they could see on both sides of the village a road which ran at right-angles to the
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