Crusader (A Novel of WWII Tank Warfare), Jack Murray [top romance novels .txt] 📗

dragging him below deck. There was some sympathy. Some. Gerhardt hadseemed surprised by the intensity as well as the rapidity of his friend’shysterical reaction.

They’d taken him to a cabin to separate him from the rest of themen. Manfred remembered the lieutenant shaking his head to the crewman. Keephim away, he’d said. He remembered the irritation in his voice. Gerhardt wasordered to try to calm him down. It had taken some time. Then Manfredremembered the ship’s doctor had given him an injection.

It was all coming back to Manfred now. And he felt ashamed at hisweakness. He looked around. None of the other men now getting dressed seemed toknow or care who he was. Only Gerhardt had seen his disgrace.

Manfred nodded to his friend and said, ‘Don’t worry. I’m finenow.’

Gerhardt nodded and did not say anything else. Manfred wasgrateful for this. He didn’t want to explain himself. He certainly did not wantto share his feelings about what he’d felt. All he wanted was to forget. Hewanted to erase the image of Lothar’s head dissolving before his eyes. Hewanted to forget the scream, his scream, the looks on the faces of theofficers, the look in the eyes of Gerhardt. Anger was growing. Anger athimself. His face burned. He felt anger towards Gerhardt for bearing witness tohis shame. Then, for a moment, his anger turned towards Lothar. His friend.

His dead friend.

The sergeant was making his way back along the narrow stripbetween the beds yelling at the young men. Manfred hurriedly dressed. Even inthis he felt embarrassed. Fear drove him to dress. He was afraid of beingpicked out and made an example of. A quick glance at Gerhardt reassured himthat he was not alone in this.

The sergeant passed them, and the two friends grinned as he wentby. All at once the rage died. He was with Gerhardt again. His co-conspirator. Thiswas a relief. Then Manfred felt someone come alongside them.

‘How are you, Manfred?’ asked Christian.

‘Fine.’

Christian nodded. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gerhardtshake his head. Christian understood from this the subject was closed.

‘It’s hot,’ said Christian, glancing out towards the window. Thesky was cerulean blue.

Yes, it was hot, and it was barely six thirty in the morning.Manfred could feel the closeness of the air and a dampness on his forehead. Thesergeant was literally bellowing at everyone to leave the room for parade. Theboys passed him, getting showered in spittle as they did so. Had they not beenso tired and hot it would have been funny.

Had they not been going to war.

-

There was rage in the heat of the sun. Manfred staggered as he hitan invisible wall outside the makeshift barracks. He and Gerhardt followedChristian and the rest of the new arrivals into a large square. Gerhardt’sheart sank at the prospect of parade ground exercises. Oddly, Manfred welcomedthis. It represented a return to normality. For the moment he wanted todissolve into the army, its routines, its arcane ceremony, its respectfulconformity. Only within the whole did he feel he could escape his humiliation;only within battle could he find redemption.

‘Why can’t they fight somewhere less hot?’ whispered Gerhardt asthey went through each drill.

‘Can you imagine what it’ll be like inside a tank?’ repliedManfred under his breath.

‘Trying not to,’ admitted Gerhardt.

They fell quiet as the eyes of the sergeant-major fell on them.Perspiration rained down each of their faces. It was scant consolation to knoweveryone was suffering in the same way. Then again, wasn’t that the point?Shared discomfort, pain and exhaustion were the raw materials from which characterwas built. The strength it provided had a tensile quality. As individuals andas a group they would be stretched in unimaginable ways. They could not break.

-

Tripoli was hot and foreign in ways that went beyond theimagination. Nothing the boys had read or heard could have prepared them forthe mixture of sights, sounds and smells they encountered on their firstventure out of the barracks.

All around the market was an astonishing mixture of local dark-skinnedtraders, and blond-white German soldiers. The noise was as loud and varied asthe colours were vivid. If ever a people liked shouting more than your average middle-agedJunker in a beer festival it was these strange beings, thought Manfred.

The day had passed off peacefully. Parade, breakfast, a lectureand then a chance to walk through the city. Neither Gerhardt nor Christian hadmentioned his breakdown. Manfred knew this was a kindness, but they would notforget, either, at least until they all were confronted directly with theterrifying violent reality of war. Only then could Manfred redeem himself intheir eyes. And redeem himself he would.

The smells had initially sickened Manfred. He was used to the clean,crisp air of Germany. Here, the air was almost palpable. The smell of sewagemixed with something else, food certainly, human waste probably, but alsosomething more intoxicating. Soon, they became used to its different moods.Sometimes teasing, sometimes unapproachable, always beguiling.

The women fascinated them also. Dark eyed, beautiful, alluring,available and untouchable in equal measure. Some were covered from head to footin black. Others seemed to appreciate something that was self-evident toManfred. It was hot. Hotter than Manfred could ever remember. How could anyonelive in such a climate? Yet live here he would. For how long, he knew not. Morereason to get the job done quickly.

He felt a dig in his ribs. It was Gerhardt. He nodded towards oneparticularly beautiful young girl. Long dark hair gleamed in the sunlight. Shemoved with a grace that would have made a Bolshoi ballerina seem like aninebriated elephant.

Both boys grinned. A lot of the other young men had come back tothe compound boasting of their exploits. Further inquiry often confirmed whateveryone knew; they’d paid for their entertainment.

With the fearlessness of youth, the arrogance of his race and thecertainty in his good looks, Gerhardt plunged forward into the attack. Theyoung girl was around the same age as the boys. She seemed to be working at afruit stall, although neither boy could recognise the strange objects piledlike apples on the wooden cart.

Gerhardt lifted a piece of fruit. He looked at the girl andsmiled. He raised his eyebrows.