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

up. Behind it, Manfred saw another coupleget away. No one seemed in a mood to give chase. The big prize was in front ofthem. The British appeared to be surrendering. The wireless crackled once more.

‘Cease fire. Panzer commanders dismount. Take machine guns withyou.’

Peters looked down into the turret.

’Werner and Brehme to stay in the tank. Brehme take over on themachine gun. Lang, Fischer come with me. Manfred poked his head out of theturret into the cold night air. The camp was lit up by the tank headlights, menwere running around while machine guns chattered briefly then stopped.

‘Everyone, get out peacefully.’

Fenski was calling on the British to surrender. Most were doing sobut some had chosen to fight. Another set fire to one of their own tanks.

Manfred folded his finger around the trigger of the machine gunand trained it on a group of British soldiers standing dumbstruck at what theywere witnessing. There were hundreds of them. Manfred couldn’t believe hiseyes. He counted twenty-five tanks standing idle. All the fatigue he’dexperienced earlier had evaporated. It had been so simple. He began to laugh.

A few minutes later, Fischer came by the tank. His face was lit bymore than just the tank headlamps. He shouted up to Manfred, ‘The lieutenantwants us to raid their tank provisions, tell Lang to take over on the machinegun. We’ll grab everything we can before the others think of this.’

Manfred communicated this to Lang and then joyfully hopped downfrom the turret onto the ground. He felt a sting of pain in his foot. Areminder that his body had not recovered from their trek. But Manfred didn’tcare. His body could take any kind of punishment when he was feeling suchecstasy.

A few hours later the night ended with nearly two hundredprisoners including the Brigade second in command as well as dozens of armouredvehicles and tanks.

-

The tank leaguered at the assembly area near Sciaf Sciuf, fifteenmiles east of Sidi Rezegh. Food awaited Manfred and the rest of the crewalthough they had already begun feasting on the food claimed from the Britishtanks. An air of celebration masked the fatigue they were feeling. And theystill had to rearm, refuel, check and clean their weapons.

The weariness in Manfred’s muscles had spread like a contagion tohis bones. He succumbed to sleep within minutes content, unafraid and almosthappy. It was a feeling that would last only as long as the night. When lightcame, the fear would return but it would meet someone different. Manfred hadaged years in two days. Although he would never admit as much, the death of hiscomrades had been shattering but somewhere within the pain of loss and the acheof his body his mind and tissues were reconstituting themselves into somethingstronger.

 29

Nr. Sidi Rezegh Airfield, Libya, November 22nd, 1941

 ‘You off then?’ asked Arthur.

‘Looks like it,’ said Danny crouching down and taking a sip fromArthur’s tea.

‘You’re welcome,’ said Arthur sourly. ‘What’s it all aboutanyway?’

Arthur was sitting by a small campfire. It was 0430. Danny hadbeen up for the previous thirty minutes in anticipation of his column pullingout from the brigade HQ. There was a hum of activity everywhere. Men werebrewing tea over small fires. Engines were started up, some stalled, some died,and others ticked over. The air was crisp with cold. A hint of dampness clungto the clothes of the men.

 ‘There’s no tanks left so they’ve formed these flying columns.We’re to harass Jerry wherever we can. You’ll be here I suppose,’ explainedDanny.

‘You suppose right. Actually, I’m glad you came over Danny-boy,’replied Arthur. All of his usual good humour had disappeared to be replaced bya fatigued fatalism of what the day held in store. From his breast pocket heextracted a letter and handed it to Danny. ‘Don’t ask, Danny. Just take it.’

The question, half-formed on Danny’s lips died immediately. Hetook the letter and nodded. Instead he grinned and said, ‘I’ll give it back toyou later.’

‘Don’t read it. I said some nasty things about you.’

‘You mean I smell.’

‘Something ‘orrible. And all your rabbiting. Puts my head away itdoes.’

Both listed a few other of Danny’s qualities which helped lightenthe funeral-black mood that hung to atmosphere. Finally, shouts coming from theedge of the HQ told Danny it was time to leave. The two men looked at oneanother and shook hands.

‘See you in Tripoli,’ grinned Arthur.

‘Have the beers ready. We’ll drink one for Phil.’

Danny rose to his feet and headed off in the direction of thenoise. Arthur watched his friend jog away from him. His tall, lean framesilhouetted against the vehicle lights. He went to sip his tea and realisedthat Danny had drained it.

‘Cheeky bugger,’ laughed Arthur. ‘I’ll get you back for that.’

-

‘Name,’ asked the sergeant. He was in his thirties and clearly a‘lifer’ in the army.

‘Private Daniel Shaw, sarge, 6th RTR,’ responded Danny.

‘Tanks? Very well, go over there. You’ll be with the artillery.You’ve fired two pounders before?’

‘Yes, sarge.’

‘Off you go.’

There were four 15-ton trucks with the two pound guns mounted enportee. This method of transport meant the guns could be fired from thetruck as well as the ground. A lieutenant stood by one of the trucks.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Danny, ‘The sergeant sent me over.’

The lieutenant hardly seemed older than Danny. He was holding aclipboard. He asked for Danny’s name and details.

‘Fine,’ said the lieutenant scribbling down what Danny told him. Helooked up from the clipboard and pointed to an empty truck. Sit over there. Notin the driver’s seat, though.

‘Sir,’ said Danny saluting before running over to the truck andsitting in the back, near the gun. It was like the two pounder he’d fired theprevious day which gave him a boost. The prospect of doing something differenthad given him a few butterflies. Strange, he thought, that he should feelnervous after having been through the experience of yesterday. Being in theopen air rather than encased in a tank was something he’d once thought made himmore vulnerable. The reality had proven to be devastatingly different.

A couple of men joined Danny in the truck. They nodded to him asthey climbed in.

‘Hullo,’ said the first. ‘ John Buller.’ He was a corporal. JohnBuller?