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We’re under attack at the airfield. You may have noticed one ortwo bombs headed our way.’

Danny and the other men laughed. They had certainly noticed. Astontook out a map and set it down for all to see. His hands were dirty. Grime-encrustedskin and fingernails were not quite what one would have associated with anobleman’s son.

‘It’s a bloody mess. Jerry has the taken the north western end ofthe escarpment, but we’re in control of the south. The enemy is also to oureast at Abiar el Amar and to the north at el Duda. Behind them, Scobie atTobruk is threatening their rear. To our south Gott and Davy are beingthreatened by more tanks. We’re going to join Campbell and the Support Groupand try to hold Jerry off at the eastern side of the airfield. We haveartillery and infantry there but may come up against tanks. Get ready for anotherpounding.’

There was an audible groan in the tank.

‘It’s worse than you think. I heard from Longworth that the 60thartillery barely has any guns left. I don’t know how long we can hold. The bestwe can hope for is that it’s long enough for either darkness to fall or theyrun out of petrol or ammunition or both. Not the best strategy I’ve heardlately. To cap it off, and there’s no sugar-coating it, we’re slap bang in themiddle of this show. It’s all a bit like a Battenberg cake at the moment.’

Well, he certainly hadn’t sugar-coated it, thought Danny. Oddly hefelt better for knowing. It was clear that Aston was not a man for dispensingfalse hope. This was a strange form of reassurance.

The tank bumped along in the direction of the airfield. The soundsof battle grew louder. By now, Danny was too numb to feel terror. Could whatthey were about to face be any worse that what he’d been through already? Hewas aware of a dull throb in his head where he’d banged it earlier. His stomachwas empty, yet he felt no hunger. Instead his mind was filled with a sense ofwonder at what he and the men around him had been through and what they werebeing asked to do now.

-

Late afternoon, the twelve remaining tanks, of the 6thRTR, trundled towards the Sidi Rezegh airfield. Danny could see the square,clean pattern of the airfield filled with destroyed planes at the boundary. Inthe middle were some burnt-out armoured vehicles and tanks. A black pall ofsmoke filled the air.

The 60th Field Regiment were firing their guns, butthey were greatly reduced in number. There was a staff car in front of them.Danny could see an officer waving the tanks forward holding aloft a blue scarf.Who the hell is that, wondered Danny? They were passing burning vehicles asthey sped down the hill.

‘Campbell must be mad,’ uttered Aston incredulously. ‘He’s runningaround in that bloody staff car. He’s even waving a scarf. You’d think he wantsthe Germans to aim at him.’

A blue scarf thought Danny. This wasn’t in any training manual he’dhad read. Still, it seemed to be working. The tanks were racing forward behindthis extraordinary man. Beside him, driving, was a fair-haired man. They were headingdirectly towards dozens of Panzer tanks in the distance. All of the tanks werecoming in their direction.

‘The man’s insane,’ said Aston staring ahead at the same sight asDanny.

Aston glanced down at Wilson, the driver. A tacit signal was exchanged.Danny sensed the tank slow slightly. He felt a touch on his arm from Stone.Danny reacted immediately and had loaded a shell into the gun.

Shells were now raining down, a cacophony of clanging against thetanks. Danny risked a glance through his periscope and saw sadistic flashes offire from the approaching Panzers.

He heard Stone fire off the first round. Danny tracked itsprogress and saw it hit the target.

‘Shot,’ yelled Danny in joy before the crushing dismay asrealisation set in that the shell had merely bounced off the Panzer III armour.They were too far away.

Aston had seen the same thing and gave vent to his feelings aboutthe inadequacy of the British guns with a volley of oaths.

Danny tugged the next shell out of the bracket, pulling down theejection leaver and forcing it into the barrel with enough force to close thebreech in a single movement. He tapped the gunner to give the ‘gun ready’signal. Stone fired again but Danny was barely aware as he was already tuggingat the next shell.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Wilson. His foot was comingoff the accelerator. He was aware of the increasing intensity of Aston’sswearing at the enemy, but he and Stone were a blur of activity: load, fire,load, fire.

‘Oh God,’ shouted Aston. ‘This is carnage.’

Danny couldn’t see what was happening but guessed their charge atthe vast army of tanks was exacting its toll.

But it was not all one-sided.

Stone’s shells were striking home to great effect if the gunner’s‘Got ‘im’ was to be believed. Danny hadn’t time to admire Stone’s handiwork.His movements were piston-like, efficient and potently in synch with the deadlypurpose of the tank. He was part of a killing machine.

The hit they took probably saved them. The tank shuddered as itwas struck sending a shock wave through each man. It stopped the tank in itstracks. The acrid smell of cordite came first then smoke began to fill the hulland then the turret. Flames followed but by then Wilson was screaming what theyall knew. The tank was brewing up.

‘Bale out,’ screamed Aston, already climbing out through thecupola. Danny followed Stone out of the top. The heat of the metal singedDanny’s hands as he climbed out. He felt breathless, dazed and deafened. Onlyhis racing heartbeat confirmed to him he’d survived. One thought was on hismind. Get clear.

All five men were out of the tank and sprinting for cover. Secondslater the tank exploded as the shells inside detonated. Danny hit the groundand covered his head. Earth and bits of metal rained down. He spun around andsaw the smoking ruin that was once the Crusader tank. Behind him he heard theothers shouting. They were racing in between the destroyed tanks. It was aslaughter.

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