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He rarely seemed tostop and rest. Always on the go, checking on the men, liaising between Colonel Listerand other officers. He liked the sergeant but had hardly spoken to him aboutanything not related to the War. This seemed to be his way. Fair enough,thought Danny. They weren’t on a holiday. None of the others were any closer toReed than he, but all respected him. Quite simply, having someone like this inyour tank could be the difference between life and death.

‘Shaw?’

‘Yes, sarge,’ said Danny standing up.

‘You’re on piquet tonight.’

Danny groaned inside but nodded to the sergeant. He picked up asub-machine gun, a pistol to sound a warning and binoculars from Reed.

-

Sergeant Reed turned away from Danny and hopped up onto the tank.Rising to his feet, Danny started out towards the perimeter to the sound of thecackling laughter of Craig who was clearly happy to have dodged any bullet.Ignoring the Ulsterman, Danny walked one hundred yards out to the designatedposition. It was a point located diagonally from the corner of the leaguer’ssquare. Behind him and across the way he saw other tank men do likewise. Fourof them in all. They would form an outer cordon which would provide the firstwarning in case of attack. Assuming they stayed awake.

He settled down for the evening. The role of piquet was one he haddone once before. Normally it was assigned to the infantry, but the tank groupwas, to say the least, in an advanced position.

Evening was drawing in. Danny made a point of fixing specificlandmarks in his mind to mark out distance. There weren’t many. A distant hill.A piece of scrub. By Danny’s estimation, they would be just about visible inthe moonlight.

A previous piquet had burrowed a hole that could fit Danny snuglyif not very comfortably. It gave him a view of the vast emptiness ahead. Hehoped it stayed that way. Months of inactivity meant he was up for the fight,if only to bring matters to an end.

Within an hour, it was dark. The moon reflected brightly off thesand. Visibility was good. The leaguer behind him had fallen silent. It feltlike it was just him, the desert and nothingness. The lack of sound was eerie.The air seemed cleaner. Colder also. He pulled the blanket around him. Healmost laughed. Here he was, in the middle for the desert freezing his bollocksoff. A few hours earlier, he could barely breathe.

Silence.

He glanced back at the leaguer again. It was now a blacksilhouette. No lights were permitted. At a push, he reckoned he could get backto the leaguer within twelve seconds. He marked his route back. Best be safe.The direct route would require him to negotiate some potholes. Perhaps fourteenseconds back. Traversing left and then right would give him a clear route back.No twisted ankle.

Silence.

But not really. He could hear something. Not a tank,thankfully. Was it the blood rushing around his body? The sound of life. Hislife. Yet he had never realised until this moment how fragile a thing it was.Despite his liking for Reverend Simmons, he had no great expectation about theexistence of an afterlife. Therefore, he reasoned, on balance, it was better hesurvived this lot. He couldn’t bank on choirs of angels ushering his arrivalinto Paradise.

He thought about Craig and the comfort he drew from reading his Bible.The contradiction in the Ulsterman was a wonder to perceive. He wore a grudgeon his sleeve as a matter of honour and apparently brought a religiousintensity to killing the enemy. Craig barely spoke to Felton who had, when theyfirst met, the temerity to laugh at him when he talked about God.

Danny shook his head at the memory. Some things were best leftalone. He looked out into the emptiness. Hope I don’t fall asleep, he thought.As soon this idea lodged, he found himself yawning.

Silence. Emptiness. Darkness.

Danny looked at his watch.

He’d been there five minutes. Only another six hours to go.

-

As Danny sat at the edge of the perimeter, the officers joined oneanother to hear Lister outline the plan for the next morning. The new plan.They listened in silence as Lister preferred questions to come at the end. Itdid not require a mind reader to guess what they were thinking, and Listerfought hard to prevent his voice revealing the scepticism he felt. Major Millerspoke first. It was clear from the nods around the table he was asking thequestion on everyone’s mind.

‘Sir, we seem to have caught Jerry somewhat unawares. If GeneralCunningham’s plan expected contact by now, does that mean this plan is defunct?’

‘So it seems. I doubt General Cunningham anticipated that ourarrival would go quite so unnoticed. Alternatively, Jerry knows we are here andsimply doesn’t want to be drawn into a pitched battle. Brings to mind VonMoltke’s dictum that no plan survives contact with the enemy. It seems this canapply equally to lack of contact also.’

This raised a few grim smiles around the table. However, no onefelt like laughing.

‘All because he stayed put,’ drawled Aston. ‘Hasn’t the buggerplayed cricket?’

This did raise some laughs although Lister was far from amused.Perhaps if it had been Laing or Miller he might have been. Not Aston, though. Instead,Lister glared at his captain. Was he being unfair? He could hardly blame himfor displaying explicit disdain for a plan that had been questioned by moresenior people.

‘We have to draw him out, if only to get near enough to hurt hisblasted tanks and then head straight for Tobruk,’ continued Lister. ‘Scobie isdue to start his breakout on the 21st from Tobruk.’

At that moment there did not seem to be an alternative plan. Theywould have to make the best of it. Lister turned to his second in command,Major Warren, and his adjutant Captain Cuttwell.

‘Warren and Cuttwell will provide you with the tactical details.’There was a sorrowful tone in his voice. He could offer them nothing better.

The other officers glanced at the two men and nodded. A silence followed.A concerned silence in which only the beating of hearts could be heard by eachmember of the group. There was little Lister could think of to defend theoriginal plan. If what he heard

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