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

‘Allied tanks to the left,’ shouted Peters. He glanced down atFischer who was slowly rising to resume his position on the wireless. Manfredglanced through the periscope saw around twenty Crusader tanks appearing intheir flank. By now Fischer had his earphones back on.

‘Tell artillery to get those tanks otherwise Zintel’s infantrywill get wiped out,’ shouted Peters.

Manfred stared ahead at the South African supply trucksscattering. They were now in the middle of the South African box and squeezingthe Allies as the original plan had set out. But at what cost? Manfred’s briefexposure to the battle outside had revealed dozens of dead Germans anddestroyed Panzer tanks.

‘Traverse left,’ ordered Peters.

Soon the Crusader tanks were in their sights. So were some SouthAfrican infantry. They were running directly for the tank. Manfred glanced downat Fischer. His left arm was hanging limply to one side.

Manfred jumped over to Fischer’s position and grabbed the machinegun. Soon it was chattering deadly bursts to discourage any ideas of attackingthe tank directly. Werner, meanwhile, had taken to loading and firing the gunhimself. More South African infantry appeared. Manfred took aim, finger tighteningon the trigger.

Nothing.

‘It’s jammed,’ exclaimed Manfred, looking at Fischer inbewilderment. Without thinking, Manfred cleared the chamber and tried firingagain. A burst of rounds tore up dust around the advancing soldiers sendingthem scattering.

The radio crackled and Fischer put the palm of his hand over theearphone.

‘Enemy tanks are fleeing,’ said Fischer, grimacing as he spoke.

Werner confirmed this with a few choice words of farewell to theCrusaders that raised a laugh inside the tank.

Just then an explosion rocked the front of the tank. All at oncethe tank stopped dead in its tracks and smoke began to fill the tank. There wasno need to give an order. Manfred was already kicking the hatch open. He andLang helped Fischer out from the hatch. Above them, Manfred sensed Peters andWerner escaping from the turret.

Each taking an arm, Manfred and Land carried and dragged Fischertowards a crater. Manfred ducked just as the tank exploded. Of Peters andWerner’s whereabouts he had no idea. Black smoke wafted around the tank. Thepopping of shells and bullets suggested another explosion was imminent.

Fischer grimaced a smile in Manfred’s direction.

‘I suppose we’re even now.’

‘No, my friend, this is the second time I’ve rescued you.’

Earth spat up in front of them. Machine gun fire shredded the air.Manfred and Lang kept their heads down.

‘We can’t stay here,’ said Lang jerking his head down as anexplosion rocked the remnants of their tank. Manfred resisted the urge to thankhim for pointing out the obvious. He popped his head up over the dugout andlooked around. Then something caught his eye.

‘What the hell is that?’ said Manfred staring ahead at anextraordinary sight. German infantry were surrounding a South African Dressing Stationlike a halo. Wounded men were being treated by doctors in the middle of themayhem. Lang glanced at Manfred and shrugged.

‘We should take Fischer there,’ said Manfred. Lang looked askanceat Manfred. It would require them to carry Fischer at least forty yards acrossthe pandemonium they were witnessing.

‘Where?’ said Fischer, groggily aware something was afoot. Therewas no answer from his crew mates. Instead, the two men hoisted him up to thesound of his groans and marched him across ground pitted by craters, destroyedguns, debris and dead bodies.

A strange dance took place as they navigated their way through thehellish scene around them. At one point a South African soldier raced pastthem, then another. Neither took any notice of the three Germans. Manfredglanced to his right and saw a Panzer tank moving forward. It stopped firingfor a moment. Manfred was vaguely aware that the South Africans were benefittingfrom the cover they were providing.

As they neared the Dressing Station it became noticeable that thedevastation was less marked than just a few yards outside the perimeter of theStation. A German infantry soldier nodded to Manfred as he and Lang carriedFischer through the line of soldiers into the medical zone.

Fischer was now dimly aware of where they had taken him. All hecould think to say was, ‘Is this a dream?’

Manfred and Lang gently lowered Fischer to the ground alongside aSouth African soldier. As they did so a doctor was passing them. A SouthAfrican doctor.

‘Doctor,’ called out Manfred. The doctor stopped and looked athim. Manfred pointed down to Fischer. ‘My friend. His shoulder.’ He wasspeaking in English to the doctor.

The doctor crouched down and quickly scanned Fischer.

‘Any other wounds?’

Fischer shook his head and grimaced.

‘No, doctor.’

The doctor rose. He was in his forties. Sadness and fatiguehaunted his features. It had been a long day for him, and it was only justbeginning. He addressed Manfred in English.

‘He’s not critical. Get him some bandages. You’ll have to bandagehim. See that man over there.’

Manfred looked towards a man standing beside a supply tent. AGerman soldier was standing with him. Manfred glanced at the doctor and noddedand said ‘Thanks’. Then he jogged over to the tent.

‘Bandages. Please.’

The South African handed Manfred a small roll.

‘Thank you,’ said Manfred. With a nod to the soldier Manfred turnedto run back to Fischer and Lang. He stopped momentarily to allow a SouthAfrican soldier and a German soldier past. They were carrying a bloodied SouthAfrican with an arm that looked like it would not survive the hour.

Manfred looked at them pass and saw the South African doctor runtowards the new arrival. He tried to take in the extraordinary scene before hiseyes. Dozens of wounded men lay on the ground.  Around them were a handful ofdoctors and a stream of soldiers carrying other injured comrades. Outside theperimeter of the Dressing Station the devastation generating these horrifyinginjuries continued unabated.

Seconds later Manfred crouched down and, with Lang’s help, gentlyremoved Fischer’s shirt and cleaned the wound as best they could. Lang examinedthe wound front and back. There was an exit through his shoulder blade. He gaveFischer some good news.

‘I think the bullet passed through.’

‘Oh good I can re-join the fight then?’ said Fischer beforegrimacing as Lang tightened the bandage. He added after this, ‘Thanks.’ Thetone was sarcastic.

‘You’re welcome,’ replied Lang with a chuckle. His