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

once more as they stood there looking at one another wondering what to do next. A flash of lightning and the back door blew open bringing rain into the kitchen. Erich shut the door. Finally, Keller turned to the other uniformed men.

‘You’re sure there was nothing?’ asked Keller through gritted teeth.

A curt nod followed. The other Gestapo man was clearly irritated by their failure and particularly by Keller’s hubris. In the nod Brehme suspected there was little love lost between the two men. But they were not safe yet. One of the SS men was standing just a few feet away from the teddy bear.

Brehme held his breath. Just then Felix left the kitchen area and moved towards the chair where the teddy was lying. He began to sniff the toy. Brehme couldn’t look. By doing so, he feared he’d draw attention to what was so obvious to him. There lay the evidence that Keller sought.

Erich went over to the dog and began to stroke it. Brehme felt faint. How could he not see what the dog was sniffing? Was he a complete idiot? The answer, Brehme realised, was ‘yes’. However, one of the other men might see what was happening.

Then Felix picked the teddy up and trotted into the kitchen holding it in his mouth. Brehme wanted to die right then. It was over now, surely. He looked at Becker. His face was white. He’d seen it, too.

And so had Graf.

Brehme looked at Graf. The little man’s face was impassive, but he could not miss the panic in the eyes of his chief. Keller was muttering angrily to himself beside Brehme. Graf and Brehme continued to stare at one another. Then Graf bent down to the dog.

He grabbed one end of the teddy and began to pull it. The dog pulled back. Growling. But not angrily. It was a game to him.

Graf continued pulling at the teddy, but he was also doing something else. He was leading the dog out of the kitchen into the adjoining living room. The Labrador’s tail was wagging furiously.

Keller shouted at Graf.

‘Stop doing that, you cretin. Let’s go.’

He spun around and stalked out of the kitchen towards the front door followed by his men. Graf stood up and returned to the kitchen, his eyes never left those of Brehme’s.

Soon it was only Brehme and the Beckers in the kitchen. No one could speak. It’s difficult to chat when you can’t breathe. Brehme’s heart was still racing. With a nod to the householders, Brehme followed the others out of the front door. The rain was lashing down outside yet a small crowd of onlookers were there to add a further layer of humiliation to Keller’s evening. He ignored Brehme’s car and climbed into the car of his men.

Brehme and Graf walked towards the police car in silence. Beside the car was Robert Sauer. The young man was soaked to the skin. He and Brehme exchanged looks. There was a barely perceptible nod from the young man and relief coursed through the veins of Brehme.

Just ahead of Brehme walked Erich. Brehme felt a wave of anger course through him.

‘Hey, Erich,’ said Brehme.

Erich turned around. He looked like an evil little bully dressed up in a uniform. Brehme felt utter revulsion.

‘Keep fighting the good fight,’ said Brehme witheringly before climbing into the car and shutting the door to any reply. Graf climbed into the passenger seat a few seconds later. The two men sat for a moment and watched the rain batter the front window of the car. Finally, when at last Brehme was capable of speech, he turned to Graf.

‘Can I buy you a beer Jost?’

‘Two, sir. I think you owe me at least two.’

Brehme nodded and then they both broke into smiles.

‘Two it is, then.’

40

El Alamein, Egypt: 24th October 1942

The order came to start moving. Benson nodded to PG. The engine burst into life. Outside the tank, the shelling continued unabated. Danny tensed up again. The tank rolled forward and the tightness slowly eased. They were on their way. Within minutes the Yorkshireman was already complaining.

‘Can’t see nowt.’

‘What’s that in English?’ asked Danny which brought a smile to Benson’s face. This widened further when PG responded in typically robust fashion.

The rumbling clanking screech of the wheels over the tracks seemed to drown out the sound of the distant explosions in the German lines. As yet the response from the Germans was low key. This astounded Danny. It worried him, too. There had to be a reason. Benson also looked perturbed by the lack of response.

‘Why aren’t they firing at us?’ murmured Benson. His head was outside the turret, but he could see little beyond the immediate tanks in front.

Danny peered through McLeish’s periscope. Clouds of dust were being thrown up by the tanks. Visibility was barely a few yards. The atmosphere in the tank was tense. McLeish’s knee moved up and down rapidly. Just ahead lay the entrance to the British minefield. Much further ahead was the passage created by the sappers through the enemy minefield. A number of soldiers stood by the entrance waving them through. White tape marked out the route. Lights flickered behind the blanket of sand being thrown up by the tanks.

Breeching the minefield brought it home to Danny that they were now fully committed. There was no turning back. They were in the middle of an endless line of traffic. One by one the tanks rolled forward followed by infantry, artillery and Uncle Tom Cobley, commented PG.

Progress was paralyzingly slow. With each passing minute the tension grew inside. No one wanted to be stuck in the minefield when the sun came up. Then it would be target practice for the eighty-eights which were arrayed in front of them.

They stopped around midnight to refuel. PG took care of this while McLeish and Danny inspected the tank. By this stage they had still not reached the enemy minefields. The word up ahead was that the depth of the enemy minefield belt