Scorched Earth - Robert Muchamore Page 0,73

and hit the fuel tank.’

Luc nodded. ‘With any luck the Germans will panic when the truck goes bang and we can pick a few off as they scramble away.’

‘Henderson and the others should be in position by now,’ Marc said. ‘You wanna take the shot?’

‘You’re Mr Bull’s-eye,’ Luc said.

It was awkward firing between iron railings from the balcony floor, but standing and taking a shot from the top of the railing would make it too easy for the Germans to spot their position and shoot back. Luc glanced inside to make sure that the elderly woman wasn’t up to anything, as Marc spread out on his belly and took aim.

‘Range three hundred and twenty metres,’ Marc told himself quietly, taking deep breaths to calm his thumping heart. ‘Strong breeze coming off the river from my right.’

The fuel tank was a large target. On a good day Marc could hit a walnut from this range. But the shot was complicated by having to estimate the position of the unseen fuel tank, and there was no way to predict the bullet’s trajectory after it punched through the truck’s canvas awning before hitting the floor.

‘Here’s goes nothing,’ Marc said, as Luc took a slightly higher firing position, ready to blow off any German heads that bobbed up during an explosion.

Marc was about to shoot when he was startled by the tank firing another shell towards the municipal building. The two previous shells had flown high with the aim of punching holes in masonry and frightening the men inside. This one went in a much lower arc, turning the building’s double front doors to splinters, smashing up the staircase inside and creating a shockwave that blew a dozen windows.

‘Looks like they’re preparing to attack,’ Luc said.

‘Shall I shoot now, or wait until they move?’

Luc was about to say wait when Marc saw something bob up above the line of the bridge’s side wall. The soldier responsible was trying to keep his head down, as a colleague strapped on a large backpack that comprised two metal cylinders and a long hose.

‘Flamethrower,’ Marc said.

He made a tiny adjustment to his aim and pulled the trigger as the cylinders started going out of view.

The bullet caught the top of a cylinder, knocking its wearer backwards. Nothing happened for a second, but as Marc zeroed back in on the truck’s fuel tank there was a flash of blue flame. The man in the backpack was rolling around on fire and as men ran in to save him, Luc took aim at their chests.

Marc re-aimed his original shot, going for the truck’s fuel tank. A spark ignited the fuel and the canvas awning, forcing more Germans to break cover as they scrambled back down the bridge. The German commander was shouting orders for his men to back off, while simultaneously ordering the tank to come forward and give them cover.

The men crouching on the bridge hadn’t seen where Marc and Luc’s shots came from, but the tank crew had a clear view. They swung their cannon towards the balcony as the tank advanced across the bridge.

‘Time to leave!’ Marc yelled, as he scrambled inside with Luc pushing against his back.

They dived for cover as the 20-mm cannon began pounding the balcony. Wood and glass flew across the old woman’s living-room as rounds tore holes through thin plaster walls and opened a view into the neighbouring apartment.

‘Little bastards!’ the old woman screamed, waving a fist as she leaned out of her bedroom door. ‘I’ve lived here in peace for thirty years.’

As Marc and Luc charged out of the apartment and raced upstairs to find a different balcony to shoot from, Henderson’s ground-level team made the most of the chaos they’d created.

The tank was now moving too fast to continue shooting at the balcony. There was a crash of glass and metal as it smashed the burning truck out of the way. When it broke on to the open cobbles, the tank slowed to a brisk walking pace, with half a dozen soldiers hiding behind its flank. The gunner zeroed in on the municipal building and began firing shells at the French flag.

The Germans assumed they were fighting inexperienced Maquis and perhaps a few locals who’d taken a lucky shot from the balcony. But Henderson had anticipated the possibility of the tank being used as a shield. He’d sent Sam and Joel on a flanking manoeuvre, jumping walls and crossing flat roofs to emerge on the opposite side of the tank.

The