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suggested thatnot only did he not care but it was probably your own damn fault. Even Millerlooked at him with a degree of surprise.

Reed glanced at Danny before confirming there were no casualties.The two officers continued on to the next tank. Moments later Holmes spoke.

‘Right, I’m off.’

He started heading in the direction of the open air latrine.

‘Feeling a bit nervous, then, Holmesy,’ shouted Craig.

Holmes did not reply. His riposte was confined to a hand gesturethat suggested Craig should focus his attention closer to home.

An hour later Captain Aston swung by. He was smoking a cheroot.Like many of the officers, he was wearing corduroy trousers, suede boots and acolourful paisley cravat. Standard uniform requirements in the desert were alittle more relaxed than Danny had expected. Aston seemed to take a particularpride in flouting what little regulation was imposed in desert dress.

Reed immediately stood to attention, but Danny sensed a warinessin him also.

‘At ease,’ drawled Aston, still holding the cheroot in his mouth.Finally he removed it and flicked some ash away before replacing it.

‘You’ll no doubt be as delighted to hear as I am that we have todo some patrols in the area. The 7th Hussars are due to make contacttomorrow. We have to make sure that Jerry hasn’t got any nasty surprises lyingin wait.’

‘When do we leave, sir?’ asked Reed.

‘Are you filled up?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘We leave in ten minutes.’

Thanks for the warning thought Danny. The look on Reed’s facestony rage. The sergeant didn’t have to say anything. The crew were clearing upand had packed away their cooking utensils. Three minutes later, they wereinside the tank with Craig and Felton cranking their twenty tonne home intoaction.

The engine started just as Reed heard over his radio the orderfrom Miller.

‘Drivers advance.’

-

Twenty four hours later, B Squadron made contact with the 7thHussars and led them to the leaguer occupied by 6th RTR. Dannywatched as Lieutenant-Colonel Lister came out to greet his counterpart from theHussars, Lieutenant-Colonel Byass. They and the other senior officersimmediately made for Lister’s tent to escape the violence of the afternoon sununleavened by any breeze.

The arrival of the Hussars also brought some welcome news in theform of mail from the outside world. They were brought round by one of the morecolourful characters in the regiment, Lieutenant Crickmay. The last time Dannyhad seen him was in Cairo. Like Captain Aston, his dress sense was as singularas his desire not to have war intrude on him enjoying life. The tank crewsgrouped round Crickmay.

‘You’re in luck. The Hussars managed to catch the mail plane, sowe have a few weeks for you to catch up on, except you Holmes. You’re even lesspopular at home than you are here.’

The men started laughing, even Holmes.

‘Only kidding,’ laughed Crickmay. ‘Actually I’ve no idea if you’vehad any post or not. If not, apologies old chap. I think you’re wonderful.’

Longing for news from home was insatiable. The radio providedbulletins on the what was happening in Britain. The mail was the chance to hearthe voices of their loved ones, albeit on paper. Sometimes this wasbittersweet. Danny had heard cases of letters arriving to crewmen from familymembers who had been killed in the devastating attacks on the country beforethe letters had arrived in North Africa.

There were a couple of letters for Danny. The second one was inhandwriting he didn’t recognise. He ripped open his mother’s letter first.Inevitably it was written, for the most part, by Kate Shaw but his father,Stan, had added a postscript. Danny scanned through the letter and, once again,marvelled at how much space his mother devoted to questions around food. ComeGerman bullets and shells do your worst, thought Danny. God forbid, though, theBritish army should fail to feed Kate Shaw’s boy well.

Stan asked no questions. He knew Danny would not be allowed tomake even the most innocuous of responses. Instead he confined himself totelling Danny that he was in his thoughts and that he believed he would see himand Tom again soon. Danny found his eyes stinging as he read the simple,heartfelt feelings of a man who had buried such emotions along with his friendsdecades before.

There was some news of Tom. It seemed he was in Tobruk and doing well,based on their last communication from the middle of summer. No allusion wasmade to the failure of Operation Battleaxe, the previous attempt at relievingTobruk which had ended in failure just as Danny arrived in North Africa.

Danny opened the second letter, curious as to who else might havewritten to him. He glanced at the name and the address in astonishment. Inneat, beautiful, handwriting he saw her name: Sarah Cavendish. His widened inshock and he felt blood rushing through his body. The letter was dated 7thAugust 1941.

He stood up immediately and walked away from the tank. A letterlike this could not be read near other people. He wanted to be alone to savourthe experience, to define it and shape it so that in years to come nothingwould sully this moment in his memory.

Dear Mr Shaw,

 

My father and I visited your parents yesterday. We’ve beenvisiting the families of everyone who has gone out to serve. It was humblingfor both myself and my father to see the extent to which our village has risento face this terrible menace.

I asked father, when we returned to the Hall, if he would allow meto write to each of the young men who have left the village to serve. He gavehis assent immediately. Yours is the last letter I have written, Mr Shaw. Orperhaps I can call you Danny, as your friends and family do?

Robert speaks of you often. I think when he is old enough, Robertwill want to join up, too. I hope he doesn’t. I hope this ghastly war will beover and this awful man Hitler is captured and put into prison forever. Myfather always comments on news relating to the different places that our boysare fighting. I follow everything now to do with North Africa whether it’s anewspaper or the B.B.C news. I’m so frightened by it all but knowing where youare and what is happening makes things

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