Dunkirk

Duty Calls: Dunkirk by James Holland © James Holland Page 143-145

Hawke aimed again, focusing on the open viewing vent. The panzer paused, swung its turret a few yards so that it seemed to be pointing directly at them. Hawke squeezed the trigger but his shot was too high, and then the tank fired. Hebden had already ducked, but Hawke felt the whoosh of the cannon shell just inches above his head, then immediately it exploded behind him. Someone cried out, but at the same time, the 2-pounder at the alley's entrance fired again, hitting the tank, now no more than fifty yards away, and penetrating the metal shell between the hull and the turret. The upper half of the tank exploded, the turret fragmenting into a thousand pieces of lethal metal. Hawke ducked again and shards of metal fizzed into the soil mounted up around them. Gingerly, he lifted his head again. A man was screaming behind him, and turning he saw the mortar crew had gone. The barrel of the 3-inch mortar lay twisted some yards behind, one of the men had lost both his legs and was sprawled, dead, beside the blackened pit, while a second man lay half out, his eyes wide.

Without thinking, Hawke scrambled out of his slit-trench. Hebden called him back, then cursing, followed, but as Hawke neared the wounded man he felt his stomach lurch. A dark hole in the man's stomach glistened, while in his reddened hands were his entrails. It was the mortar man who had spoken to them earlier. He had been cheery then, his grin revealing several missing teeth, but now his mouth was covered with blood and wild eyes were staring aghast at his guts now spilling out from him. Fully conscious, he was desperately trying to hold them in.

'Help me,' the man stammered.

'What do we do? What do we do?' Hawke asked Hebden.

'All right, mate,' said Hebden, swallowing hard, 'we'll get you help.'

Hawke glanced around. The fourth tank was reversing, but another shell from the 2-pounder smacked into its wheels and the track rolled off and the tank veered. Spears was now hurrying, crouching, towards the smashed mortar pit.

'Get back you two!' he shouted. 'Get back now!' He pulled Hawke back by his shoulder. 'Damn it, Hawke! Do you want to get yourself killed?'

'He needs help!' Hawke burst out.

'I can see that, Private!' snarled Spears. 'Now do as I damn well say!'

Hawke scurried back as the stricken panzer opened fire in a wide arc. Flattening himself on the ground, he felt momentary panic but then two shells, fired from both 2-pounders, one after the other, smashed into it and exploded, knocking the turret clean into the air. A moment later, Hawke heard a single pistol shot behind him. Turning, he saw Spears look up, defiance in his eyes, the man beside him now dead.

Hawke tumbled back into the slit-trench, his mind reeling. Hebden was now tumbling in beside him, his face ashen.

'I've seen some sights since I've been out here,' he jabbered, 'and I thought my stomach was pretty hard. But that…' He let the sentence trail.

Hawke said nothing. His hands were shaking again, his heart pounding and his ears were ringing. Directly in front of them, not thirty yards away, was the smouldering remains of the leading panzer. Further to the right, stood the second, while further down the hill was the third. Three out of four tanks destroyed. Behind him, the bloody remains of the mortar crew lay dead and mangled. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and death. Where was the enemy? Suddenly everything had gone quiet, so that all he could hear was the shrill ringing in his ears.

Hebden was shaking him by the shoulders, and Hawke stared as his friend's mouth opened but it seemed no words were coming out. Then, as though a cork had been popped, noise flooded back – the sound of mortars and machine-gun fire, the scream of artillery shells overhead, and Hebden saying,

'Johnny! Johnny! Can you hear me?'

Hawke jolted, blinked and said, 'Yes – yes, I can now.'

'You scared me then,' said Hebden, breathing out heavily.

'I couldn't hear a thing – it was strange.' He looked at his friend. 'Spears shot him. He actually shot him.'

'At least someone was prepared to put him out of his misery,' said Hebden. 'Poor bloke. Scared witless and no chance of surviving. The sergeant did the right thing.' He patted Hawke on the shoulder. 'I'm sorry you had to see that, though. God knows, I'm sorry I had to see it.' He half turned his head. 'I'm sorry they're still there. Why did I ever leave the farm, eh, Johnny? Why did I ever join up?'