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

battering today, but we got a few blows in too. The 4thand 22nd Brigades are coming up, so they won’t have it all their ownway tomorrow. In the meantime, we must fight on.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said each man.

‘There aren’t enough tanks left, so we’re going to have toredeploy some of you elsewhere for now.’

They all nodded. This was less of a blow for Danny, but hesuspected the others would be sorry. The sense of brotherhood among tank crewsran deep. Although he’d felt like an outsider initially, it didn’t take longfor the bonds of comradeship to be forged. This process had already startedafter what they had undergone.

Campbell turned to Danny. His eyes narrowed.

‘We met earlier, didn’t we?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I thought so. It was good work down at the gun. How do you fancyjoining one of the columns for the time being? It’ll give you a chance to hitthe Jerry hard and distract them while we sort out this mess and can get you anew tank.’

The Jock columns were small fighting patrols developed by Campbellcomprising of a troop of armoured cars, two or three troops of guns and acompany of infantry that fought guerrilla style warfare in an effort to harassand distract the enemy.

For the first time that day Danny managed a grin.

‘I’d love to, sir.

 27

South of Sidi Rezegh Airfield, November 22nd, 1941

Manfred and the others made an early start as none of them hadslept particularly well. A rapid breakfast and they were on the march again. Suppliesbeginning to dwindle. Manfred could, at least, console himself with the thoughtthat it was a lighter load. The bayonet-black night when they set off slowlygave way to mauve and then pink. An hour after setting off the sky was acloudless-blue. The air was still fresh but that would change soon.

They followed the tank tracks for another two hours until theyarrived at the camp that they’d left the previous day. It was deserted save forthe debris of occupation. The boys stopped and looked around.

‘They’re not here, then,’ said Fischer. There was resignation inhis voice.

‘Maybe we should look to see if they’ve left anything behind,’replied Manfred looking around at the remains from their former camp.

Fischer nodded but was lost in his own thoughts. Kohler sat down, closeto despair. Manfred glanced down at him but felt little sympathy. They were inall in the same boat lost in the middle of a sandy ocean.

Manfred slowly spun around scanning the horizon. The emptiness wasa presence in itself. It surrounded you. Embraced you. Slowly, it suffocatedyou. First it tested your physical resolve with heat. Then it went for yourmind. Chipping away bit by bit at hope until fear set in followed by surrender.

It was likely Kohler was experiencing a sense of desolation.Manfred felt it, too, but was still strong enough to fight it. Or perhaps itwas a desire not to succumb in the presence of Fischer. The key to survival wasto deny the dark thoughts. Despair blunted your senses, undermined yourendurance and acted to deny your survival instinct.

They parted for a few minutes and made a search. Manfred found thetraces of a few campfires. All were cold. The camp had clearly been abandonedthe previous afternoon. They joined one another in the centre and looked aroundthem.

‘Where to now?’ said Manfred. It wasn’t really a question so muchas a thought spoken loudly. He spun slowly around. There were so many differentsets of tracks now it made it difficult to decide which direction was best.

Fischer grinned at Manfred and shrugged his shoulders. TheBavarian’s smile was oddly reassuring. Manfred sensed there was no sense ofpanic. He was relieved that he, too, was not yet feeling any panic. There werechoices. None great. All wrong in their own unique way. They sat down anddiscussed all the stupid things they could do at that point. The discussion wasas calm as it was surreal.

‘If we go back to where we were, we can replenish our supplies. Well,you never know, we might meet our side out there.’ Fischer’s arm made a widesweep.

‘Or Tommy,’ pointed out Manfred with a grin.

‘True, we’ll say we speak better English than our friend,’ saidFischer in English.

‘How do you do?’ said Manfred in English also. They both collapsedlaughing. Kohler looked at them askance.

When they’d finished laughing, they returned to the subject oftheir options. By now they could hear the rumble of guns in the distance. Theytried to gauge from which direction the sounds were coming from. The emptinessof the desert was its own neutrality. The source of the sound was not obvious,and they agreed the best guess was to their north west.

‘So we’ll march to war, then,’ said Manfred.

Fischer grinned and said, ‘Must be mad.’

They looked down at their supplies. If they were lucky, they’dhave enough until evening. This didn’t need to be voiced. If the bombs or thebullets didn’t get them then starvation and thirst would. Maybe Kohler wassmarter than they were. Maybe despair was the only correct reaction to theirsituation. With the decision made they headed in the direction of Tobruk. Kohlerrose slowly from the ground. If he was reluctant to continue walking,particularly in the direction of the fighting, he was even more reluctant to beleft on his own.

Thankfully, there were sufficient tank tracks for them to follow. Clearlysome of their comrades, if not the whole division, had set off in thisdirection. It made sense. If they were right, and their training had given theman acute sense of direction, then they were heading towards the most logicalplace where there was fighting: Tobruk. At the very least they would run intothe Sidi Rezegh airfield, around twenty or twenty five kilometres away, sometimethat night. They were sure to meet friend or foe there.

They walked in silence for a while. Each felt a sense offoreboding that only torture could have forced them to admit openly. As iftheir predicament were not bad enough, they would have to contend with theelements. The heat was intensifying now.

Manfred glanced at Fischer as they ploughed forward. He realisedthat his own sense of worried calm was a long way short of the panic