Crusader (A Novel of WWII Tank Warfare) by Jack Murray (important of reading books .TXT) 📗

his face. Silently, he made his wayalong the street ignoring the people ignoring him.

 9

Bir Thiba, Egypt, 18th September 1941

At 0730, the squadron broke leaguer. Thirty eight tanks set offwest in the direction of Thalatia. Danny’s asked where exactly Thalatia was. Itmet with an amused response from Reed. The sergeant pointed to the tanks infront and on their left.

‘Who do you see out front?’

‘That’s Captain Longworth’s A Squadron, sarge,’ replied Danny, hisheart sinking as he suspected everyone in the tank was listening to theexchange.

‘Very good, Shaw,’ replied Reed. Even the strained rumble of thetank engine, the sound of sand and rock crumbling under the tracks seemed toquieten for a moment as they waited for Reed to respond.

‘Well go and ask him where Thalatia is because I don’t bloodyknow.’ Reed handed the microphone to Danny.

The tank erupted into laughter, none louder than Danny. A quickglance round the tank confirmed no one had heard of their destination. It wasjust another name. Many of these names would develop an entirely new and deepersignificance in the future. But for now the geography of Danny’s new home wasstill an ongoing discovery.

‘Hey Craig, have you ever been to Their Labia?’ asked Danny.

Craig shot Danny a look but there was a broad grin on his face.

‘Many times, son. More than I can remember. I didn’t stay longmind you. Flying visit so to speak.’

The tank rocked to more than just the bumps on the track.

‘I’m sure the place will be delighted to have you back.’

‘I’m always welcome,’ said Craig with a wink. ‘As a matter of factit’s called Thalatia dummy. Not many know this, but it was home to several Pharaohs;Ramses lived there.’

‘Ramses?’ asked Danny, affecting a public school accent, ‘Is he ofthe Hertfordshire Boggy Bottom Ramses’?’

‘No, you’re thinking of Tutankhamun’s cousin,’ replied Craig.

‘What was his name again?’ asked Danny, stroking his chin inthought.

‘Neville.’

‘That’s right. He played right back for Bury before the War.’

‘Have you two finished?’ asked Reed although there was smile onhis face as he said it. Craig rolled his eyes and Holmes smirked at the tickingoff.

Danny returned his gaze to the periscope and looked around him. Itwas quite a sight. The whole squadron was on the move. They were in anarrowhead formation. Danny’s tank was part of the B Squadron led by MajorMiller. They were on the right of the trident with Captain Longworth’s A Squadronat the point and C Squadron, led by Major Laing, to the left. The tanks weretwenty five yards apart and travelling at twelve miles per hour. Visibility wasgood as the hard surface stopped much sand flying up. Danny could see that allof the tanks were hatches open with all of the individual commanders visible.

-

‘There’s something about the way army life strips you of yourdignity,’ said Arthur. ‘You lose a sense of yourself. There are no individuals.Just a collective. I no longer exist. I’m just part of one big, impersonalmachine.’

‘Really? What makes you say that? asked Danny.

Arthur zipped up his flies. Moments later, Danny zipped up hisflies, too. There were around thirty men, standing in a line facing away fromthe tanks, likewise engaged in a similarly natural function.

‘Just a feeling, son. Just a feeling.’

They strolled back in the direction of the tanks.

Overhead the sky was cerulean blue. A few clouds lolled aroundlazily looking for shade. It was not a day for hard graft. Danny was transfixedby the sky. It seemed so vast, so blue, so clear.

‘Difficult to credit it’s September.’

Sweat was trickling down his forehead and heat bounced off the hardsand making it seem like they were standing by an open oven. Danny followed thesingle cloud, observing its slowly silent progress into the distance. A darkspot appeared to the left of the cloud. It was barely visible, but it was a breakin the blue.

‘What’s that?’ asked Danny but the shouts were already coming fromthe leaguered tanks forty yards away.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Arthur and grabbed Danny’s arm. The two menbegan to run.

‘Not so fast, Danny-boy,’ shouted Arthur.

‘What?’ shouted Danny, who was a few yards ahead of Arthur.

‘I need cover,’ laughed Arthur.

Danny’s suitably pithy response was lost in the sounds of shoutingin the leaguer. Hundreds of eyes were now glued to the western sky as the speckgrew larger. The sound and the shape of the plane became apparent. It was aJunker Ju 88. A fighter-bomber. Fast and mobile, it was a constant threat inthe North African campaign.

Panic rising, Danny realised he wouldn’t reach the tanks beforethe Ju 88 made its first pass. The sound of the aircraft’s engines was nolonger a buzz. It was a roar. The plane was now diving over the tank squadron.Men scrambled for cover. Others clambered onto the turrets to man the machineguns. Machine guns began to chatter overhead. The Ju 88’s guns sent a stream ofrounds that tore the air asunder.

Danny hit the ground and felt the ground rock as Arthur dived downbeside him with his hands over his head.

‘Can’t even take a quiet leak these days,’ complained theLondoner.

The machine guns mounted on the tanks only had a two second windowto hit the target. The Ju 88 passed overhead and into the distance. Danny rose,pulling Arthur up with him. All around him, other men who had been relievingthemselves did likewise and were soon running towards the relative safety ofthe tanks.

They reached the tanks just as the Ju 88 was banking. The squadronheld its collective breath. Then, with a sense of relief, they saw the aircraftheading away. The German pilot was no more up for a fight than they were. Whatwas the point? He couldn’t stop the tank convoy and he was risking his lifeand, more importantly as far as his commanders were concerned, the aircraft ina futile gesture.

What he had done was empty a part of his magazine. He’d be able tobrag about it to his fellow pilots back at the airfield. Tanks were spotted.Tanks were engaged. Yes, I will have another tot of brandy, Heinrich. Thanks,old chap.

Danny arrived back at his tank as Major Miller came past withCaptain Aston.

‘Anybody hurt?’ asked the captain in manner that