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

were all here. Yet, what little direct contact he’d had with the Afrika Korps, and what he’d heard, suggested that, in the harsh context they found themselves in, humanity was still able to win some battles. The story of how Rommel, upon overrunning an Allied military hospital treating both sides at Mersa Metruh during the summer, had refused to take the doctors as prisoners of war. Instead, they were asked to stay on to treat the wounded before being allowed safe passage to Switzerland once German doctors could replace them. Danny suspected that many were back in North Africa now.

The response from the enemy seemed perfunctory. The odd shell slicing the air and screaming impotently in the night. PG said as much. McLeish said nothing very much at all and Benson smoked his pipe thoughtfully.

‘They must be lying doggo,’ concluded PG.

‘I suspect they are. Why would anyone be out on a night like this,’ replied Benson like he was talking about a rainy evening in Piccadilly.

Danny tried not to think of that. All he could do was wait for the signal to advance. Sooner would be better. Not just to get it over with, either. The darkness made him feel safe. It seemed odd that something he would have feared as a child was now his protection. Daylight would change things for everyone. If the sappers and the infantry were unable to forge a sufficient path through the minefields, then they would be sitting ducks for the Germans.

The moon glimmered like a halo over the hellish scene below. Its luminous purity was in mute contrast to the astonishing testimony to man’s ceaseless quest to find new, more effective ways to kill and destroy. Danny looked on, mesmerised by the wall of white light and the scream of shells. It stopped briefly and then as if they could not be tamed, the guns started again. Overhead was the throbbing drone of bombers who were about to unleash yet more misery on the enemy.

PG was right. They were dug in. Waiting. It’s not as if they hadn’t done this before. It’s not as if this tactic hadn’t been tried before. It didn’t work then. Why should it be any more successful now? Danny tried to ignore the voices in his head but even the bludgeoning bellows of the guns could not drown out the sound of his fears.

‘What do you think, Shaw?’ asked Benson, as they gazed at the angry horizon.

‘I think,’ replied Danny, ‘That I need some more tea, sir.’

‘Excellent idea, Shaw.’

Danny turned to McLeish who made no secret at his displeasure at being asked to brew up at this time. His sullen expression made Danny forget his fears for a moment and made him feel a bit better.

‘Well done, Danny,’ said Andrews. ‘Leadership is all about the art of delegation.’

-

The radio burst into life seconds after the barrage started. Manfred was more interested in listening to what was being said on the radio than what he was seeing and hearing. It all seemed so far away to him. Then the radio went dead. Kiel and Kleff both took turns at it. They turned to Basler. The lieutenant looked from them to the radio and then pointed to the horizon that was lit with a blinding light.

‘I think it’s safe to say that our friends have decided enough is enough.’

It was an unusual reflection on the commencement of battle. Manfred turned his attention to the horizon and the flashing and the distant screams of shells. Panzer Regiment 8 was, relatively speaking, a long way from the desperate shelling that was raining down on the forward positions. There, in the line of fire, were the anti-tank guns and the German and Italian infantry arrayed in front of the minefields. They were situated near the Alarm Piste, just in front of the headquarters.

‘What will happen now?’ asked Kiel. He was fidgeting with a cup.

‘Let them fire,’ snapped Basler. He seemed irritated, but not at Kiel. ‘If they want to waste their ammunition on rocks and sand, let them. When the sun comes up, we’ll see them all before us, stuck in the middle of a minefield trying to reach Kidney Ridge. We’ll pick them off. They never learn.’

They had talked about the two ridges in front of them endlessly. Kidney Ridge and Meteiriya Ridge to its south were both of strategic importance to the Allies. For this reason, tens of thousands of mines had been planted in the areas surrounding them; guns were trained on them. Any attempt to take them would be met by a hail of fire that no one could survive.

The Meteiriya Ridge ran parallel to the coast, twenty kilometres inland. It was around five kilometres long and extended in a series of features forming another low ridge that was shaped like a kidney. These two points were held by the Germans and were certain to be targets for the expected Allied assault.

Basler, although dismissive of the likely tactics that the Allies were to use, was distinctly on edge. Manfred knew why. They had been talking the previous day about the anticipated advance from the enemy.

‘They will be stuck in the minefields. We’ll shoot at them until our ammunition runs out.’

Manfred asked the question he already knew the answer to.

‘What happens then?’

‘They’ll just send more men to attack. They’ll climb over the dead bodies of their comrades and we shall fall back as far as our petrol will allow us to.’

Basler eyed Manfred closely as he said this. It felt strange to have been given such an insight into Basler’s mood. Yet, increasingly, Basler was less able to disguise his state of mind. It stood in marked contrast to so many around them. There had been an air of unreality about the period leading up to the beginning of the barrage. So much so that Manfred now avoided conversation with anyone except Fischer about what lay ahead.

The simple fact was, no one knew the extent of or, at least, was