El Alamein, Jack Murray [best autobiographies to read .txt] 📗

under the full assault of the storm’s rage. They were probably travelling at no more than ten miles per hour yet the sand blowing in their faces and the rocking of the truck made it feel as if they were hurtling through a vortex signalling the end of time.

No longer able to open his eyes, Danny ducked his head into his chest and waited. He wasn’t sure if they were even moving now such was the fury of the storm and the loss of any sensory cues to guide him.

How long they drove for he could not tell. The drive seemed to take an age. Miraculously, no one stopped them. The Italians were sheltering in their tents from the raging force of nature. Then, all of a sudden, the storm ceased to be raging. Danny raised his head and lowered the sand-encrusted scarf from his eyes. He could not focus initially. His eyes stung from the sand particles that had embedded in his skin. He couldn’t rub them as his hands were covered in sand. This would make only matters worse.

Finally, vision slowly returned. His eyes watered and focus was lost for a minute before shapes became more defined. Much to his amazement he realised that Gray was still driving. However, the sergeant was struggling, and the truck was about to veer off the road. Danny saw that they risked crashing. He pushed Buller out of the way and leant over the sergeant’s shoulder to correct the steering wheel.

‘Stop the car,’ shouted Danny.

‘All right, all right,’ replied Gray. ‘you don’t have to shout. I’m not deaf.’

The car came to a stop. All of the men jumped out and tried to rid themselves and the truck of the excess sand. They had reached the other side of the camp, but they were still dangerously close to the enemy. Elements of the camp were now visible.

‘Hurry,’ ordered Gray. He didn’t have to worry on that score. They could all see that they were very exposed. Within a matter of seconds they were back on board. Buller took over the driving to give Gray a break. The sergeant had borne the brunt of the storm and was clearly suffering. His eyes were caked with sand. Danny marvelled at the resilience he’d shown to keep pushing through despite the onslaught they’d faced.

Evans used up some of their precious water supplies in clearing Gray’s eyes. It was tempting to give some to everyone to do this, but the risk was too great. They had no idea how many other delays they would encounter on the road to Tobruk. For now, though, they were making progress.

Around a mile past the Italian camp, they saw a lone figure walking along the road. As they drew closer, they could see an Italian uniform peeping out from underneath a coat of sand. His head was down and he was plodding back to his camp.

He heard the approaching vehicle and glanced up. Danny and the rest of the truck looked back at him. A faint smile appeared in his face and he saluted. Everyone in the truck, except Blair, saluted back.

-

Bert Gissing was enjoying a cigarette when he saw the approaching truck through his field glasses. He called over to Tom.

‘We’ve company.’

Tom grabbed his Lee Enfield and brought over Bert’s. They watched the truck for five minutes as it drew nearer. The truck looked in bad shape, the individuals inside, even worse. Everyone, truck included, was caked with mud and sand. As it approached the checkpoint, Bert stepped out and pointed his rifle at the vehicle.

Sergeant Gray was back driving. He looked at the two soldiers standing picket. Beside them was a sign that read ‘Tobruk: 5 miles”.

‘Who are you?’ asked Bert.

Danny could not believe his eyes. Hidden behind Buller, he watched in amusement as Gray explained who they were.

Bert listened intently and nodded. Then he grinned and said, ‘Well, I’m guessing you don’t know the password then.’

Danny hopped out at this point and said, ‘Beer. And make it sharp.’

Bert and Tom looked askance at the tall figure with a face that looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. The men on the truck gawped at their grinning comrade.

‘Well, I’ll be’ said Bert.

‘Danny,’ shouted Tom in delight, throwing down his gun and rushing towards his brother.

Part 2: The Gazala Gallop

31st Jan 1942 – June 1942

The German operation, Theseus, has succeeded in pushing the Allied 8th Army back towards the Gazala line just in front of Tobruk. The German offensive destroyed 75 Allied tanks, against a German loss of 29 tanks (out of 100). The Allied defensive line encompasses a series ‘boxes’ at Knightsbridge and Bir Hacheim.

11

Tobruk, Libya: 31st January 1942

If it wasn’t much of a bar then at least it had the benefit of reducing expectations for the quality of the beer. This subsequently proved to be a pleasant surprise. Danny sat with his brother and Bert Gissing at a table already crowded by empty glasses. Danny greeted the arrival of Fitz, Buller and Evans in the bar with a wave. The three men found seats and sat down.

‘Sort out the drinks, Danny lad,’ said Buller. The idea was received with acclaim from the Little Gloston boys. Danny rolled his eyes and dutifully organised the drinks. The discussion centred around the inevitable parting of the ways.

‘We’ve been told we’re heading out tomorrow,’ explained Buller. ‘Holiday’s over.’

‘Where are you going?’ asked Danny. He felt a wave of sadness pass through him. He’d always accepted that they would have to part at some point. This did not diminish the hurt, however. Over the two months they’d grown as close as brothers. It felt as if the breath had been crushed from his chest. It was as bewildering to him as it was painful.

‘Knightsbridge,’ announced Buller grandly. ‘They know class when they see it.’

Fitz shook his head and laughed at the look on Danny’s face.

‘Not that Knightsbridge. They’ve set up a series of defensive boxes. Our one is