El Alamein by Jack Murray (spanish books to read .TXT) 📗

off earlier. They were a mile ahead of the main group and had sighted dust on the horizon. A lot of dust. They were barely ten minutes away.

‘Talk about leaving it to the last minute,’ commented Sid Gregson on the radio.

As there were two radios in the tank, Danny was able to hear much of what was going on thanks to Gregson. They both listened in on the wireless which was now giving a running commentary on events up ahead.

‘Their tanks have overrun Bir Hacheim,’ said Gregson grimly. ‘Doesn’t sound good.’

‘How the hell did they do that?’ asked ‘PG’, echoing Danny’s thoughts. He fought back a wave of nausea. It was always a battle to fight back the sickening thought that the Afrika Korps was just better tank on tank, leader on leader, man on man. They seemed always to be one step ahead. Once more the swiftness of their strike had caught the Allies off guard. Danny’s heart began to race as the tank rolled ever closer to this extraordinary army. For the first time in months, he felt fear. His senses, however, were waking up from the torpor of inactivity. Danny now had enough experience to recognise that fear wasn’t just an ever-present companion in the desert. It was a friend, too. It gave his survival instincts the impetus to act and the mental, physical, and spiritual resources to keep going.

It was now after seven in the morning and more news was coming through. None of it good. The “B” echelon had been overrun and captured. This meant a lot of fuel and supplies would now be in the enemy’s hands.

Roberts’ calm voice crackled on the wireless, ‘Move to battle position Larwood.’ Danny looked over to ‘PG’, who ignored him. Gregson smiled and mouthed ‘south west’. The tank trundled on towards a rumbling sound that was no longer just engines. The battle was underway.

Major Hutton’s voice came over the radio.

‘Sighted the enemy. Must be over one hundred tanks. Three thousand yards away.’

‘Definitely not friends?’ asked Roberts although he knew the answer.

‘No, not friends, sir.’

‘I can see them now,’ said Roberts. ‘Good lord, some of them are sitting outside the tanks.

Burr now reported to the tank column, ‘Yes, one hundred tanks. Twenty abreast, at least five rows of them. Make that six. Sorry, no. Bloody hell, there are eight rows of the devils. Must be two hundred of them out there.’

Danny’s heart sank at hearing this. Whatever advantage they had with their new tank, they faced a potentially insurmountable problem. They were badly outnumbered.

‘Do not open fire until they are one zero, zero, zero yards. I think hull down is out of the question,’ warned Roberts. His voice betrayed no nerves.

‘Must be two hundred tanks,’ said Hutton in a tone that was clearly awed. ‘Two thousand yards now and closing.’

‘Right, “B” and “C” squadrons take up battle line on the ridge three hundred yards in front. “B” Squadron right, “C” squadron left. Wait for my order, mind.’

Danny could see what Roberts was thinking. The “B” and “C” squadrons were composed of the Grants. They could take a pop at the Panzers from further out.

‘That leaves you, “A” Squadron,’ said Roberts. ‘Can you move to protect our right flank. And keep in touch with the 8th Hussars whatever you do. They’re around there somewhere. I don’t want you or them, for that matter, firing at us. Are those blasted twenty-five pounders here yet, by the way?’

Danny looked through his telescope. The Panzers were advancing ominously towards them. He glanced down at ‘PG’. He still had his viewing flap opened. He was eating a biscuit.

‘Want some tea?’ asked Danny.

‘PG’ turned around and looked at him. Then he did something that made Danny quite surprised. He grinned. This was the first time he’d seen the Yorkshireman smile in the few days since they’d been thrown together. Cool devil, thought Danny.

Roberts spoke again, ‘We will make contact with our friends on the left. No one fire until I give the order. Off’

Give the bloody order, thought Danny nervously. He motioned to McLeish to load. He pointed to the AP Armour Piercing shells. Moments later Benson spoke to them on the internal radio.

‘Ready, Shaw? Give them all you’ve got when the order comes through.’

‘Yes, sir.’ In Danny’s mind he could see where the German tanks would be. Their regiment had done exercises over this vast salt plain. He looked though the telescope again. All he could see in the distance was a shimmering haze. Nothing was distinct. Yet they were there. The nerve-shredding rumble of their engines made the lack of visibility all the more terrifying. Danny’s stomach was now in knots at the sound of the approaching tanks.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Benson. He was still outside the top of the tank scanning the horizon with his binoculars.

Danny squinted but could see nothing. The sun reflected off the haze and temporarily made his eyes water. He rubbed them and returned his attention to what was in the distance. Then he saw them. His heart lurched. In just the blink of an eye, the dark shapes had emerged as if from a malevolent mirage. They were spread out across three miles of desert like a black cloud. The sight was awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measure.

A flash caught Danny’s eye as he looked through his telescope. Then he heard a series of crumps. All along the line of German tanks there were puffs of black smoke. ‘PG’ slowly shut his flap as if he was trying to keep out the rain.

‘Pick your target, Shaw. Archie, you wait until I give the order. They’re still a bit too far,’ said Benson slowly. He had now taken the eminently sensible, in Danny’s view, precaution of ducking into the turret.

Moments later, the air around the tank was torn apart with explosions. Danny’s thumb hovered over the firing button. When would Roberts issue the order to fire? At this rate they would all be…

‘Hello Cambrai, Cambrai calling. Fire now!’ ordered