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

tank. This was close to twohundred gallons of water. The tank drank it as fast as the men. The leaguerresounded to the dull thud of the cans being attached to the tanks.

An hour later, or was it two, they had finished. Danny noticedArthur directly across from him. He strolled over to join him.

‘Finished?’

‘Yes. You?’

Arthur motioned with his head and they wandered outside theleaguer. The sky was still blue but there was a layer of mauve that would soontake over. A few of the other men had the same idea, and groups had escaped theleaguer to light up, stretch their legs or avoid any more work. No onebegrudged the men a break. They were joined by Phil Lawrence.

The three men strolled along the perimeter of the garrison. Twomonths of eating bully beef had slimmed Arthur’s stockier frame to a degreehe’d not known since his early twenties. This was something he reminded peopleabout often. That he did so not with pride but with an almost visceral loathingfor the food he had to eat provided some light relief from the tedium of thediet. His views on the V cigarettes were no more glowing.

‘It tastes like camel diarrhoea,’ was Arthur’s expert view. Dannytried these notorious cigarettes as almost everyone else seemed to smoke. Heabandoned the project early. It was difficult to disagree with Arthur’sassessment. Lawrence didn’t seem to mind them much.

‘An acquired taste,’ he admitted.

‘D’you think this is it?’ asked Danny. The two men sat down andgazed out across an empty, alien landscape.

‘You in a rush?’

‘Only to go home.’

Arthur nodded and dragged on the cigarette.

‘Blow that bloody smoke in another direction, would you,’ growledDanny. He received another waft of it from Lawrence for his trouble. Arthurcackled at this.

‘It’s coming all right. Captain Longworth’s been on our backs for thelast few days. I can see why now. It makes sense. Tobruk can’t hold outforever, can it? Something has to give. If I’d been Robert Menzies, I’d be onat Churchill every day to do something.’

Danny smiled and looked at his friend.

‘You’re a bit out of date. Faddon’s the prime minister ofAustralia now. He’s an Arthur, you’ll be glad to hear.’

‘Really? There you go. Arthurs always rise to the top.’

‘Whatever you say, Private Perry.’

Arthur turned to Lawrence and asked, ‘What time’s it, Mickey?’

Lawrence held up his Mickey Mouse watched and showed them.

‘Time to be getting back to do Minnie then,’ responded Arthur.

‘You’re a romantic, Arthur,’ grinned Lawrence.

Break over, the three friends trooped back into the camp. The skywas mauve bleeding into a pastel orange. The shadows were succumbing totwilight. Up ahead they saw the tanks arrayed in rows at the leaguer. Besideeach tank was the crew, some sitting in groups, some still tinkering with theengines, wheels, weaponry. Nothing could be left to chance.

Danny swatted a fly from his face and pronounced it a bastard fromhell. A few of its Satanic friends soon replaced it. They parted at the leaguer.Arthur’s tank was at the entrance. There was no parting goodbye. Danny keptwalking towards his tank with Lawrence. Then they, too, parted company.

‘Lover boy is back,’ greeted Holmes. Danny saw Craig look up andsmile. The war of words between Danny and Holmes was a daily affair now. ‘How’syour boyfriend?’

‘He was asking after you. You’d be in there, y’know.’

Danny paused a moment and Craig, sensing an opportunity formischief, filled in.

‘If?’

‘You weren’t such a c...’

Holmes was on his feet immediately before Danny could finish thethought. Danny just strolled past him, laughing. He headed towards CharlieFelton. The wireless operator was playing with the controls. Finally he foundwhat he wanted. A presenter’s voice came through clearly.

‘We have a recording of a performance by the late Al Bowlly, madea few months before his death in April during an air raid.’

The crew quietened for a moment. Then he heard a guitar beingplucked before the crooner launched into the song ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’.Danny felt a sadness descend on him. He sat down near Felton. Moments later,Holmes and Craig sat down near him. All listened to the South African; hiswords floating across the airwaves: across time.

‘I saw him, once,’ said Holmes, as the song ended. ‘Went dancingwith the missus at Theatre Royal Rochdale. He was performing. She couldn’t takeher eyes of ‘im.’

‘Ugly bastard like you, I don’t blame her,’ said Craig. Hereceived a none too gentle punch on the arm for his trouble.

Danny said, ‘I saw him too. It must have been days before he waskilled.’ His voice tailed off towards the end, causing Holmes to shoot him alook.

‘While you ladies are dreaming of old Al, us real men prefer oursingers blonde,’ said Craig.

‘Who?’ asked Danny.

‘Here we go,’ said Holmes.

Craig laughed and said, ‘Listen to Evelyn Dall sing ‘My HearBelongs to Daddy’, son. It’ll make a man of you.’

-

After they had eaten, Craig was detailed to help Danny withclearing up. Danny noticed the Ulsterman was holding a book in his hand. Itwent with him everywhere. He caught Danny glancing at it. It was The Bible.

‘Do you have faith, son?’

It was an odd question, at that moment, especially coming from thenotoriously foul-mouthed Ulsterman. However, the certainty that Craig lived bywas clearly built on a foundation of something. Danny guessed he was holding itat that moment.

‘I went to a Church of England chapel,’ replied Danny.

‘That wasn’t what I was asking.’

Danny thought for a moment before replying in a manner that only ayoung person could do before life, war or both find a chink in the walls webuild.

‘I have faith in myself.’

He saw Craig smile at this, but something told him it wasn’t becausehe thought the reply either smart of funny. The look on Craig’s face would riseup in Danny’s mind again and again. A portent of his own folly, his ownweakness and the fears that would one day stand in mute condemnation ofyouthful bravado.

Craig tapped the book and responded, ‘Good luck with that, son. Isuspect when the shells are raining down it won’t be yourself you pray to.’

Danny smiled at this. It was a fair point, unarguable, even. As hedid so, he spied Sergeant Reed arriving back at the tank.