Crusader (A Novel of WWII Tank Warfare), Jack Murray [top romance novels .txt] 📗
- Author: Jack Murray
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All of the men had a role in ensuring everything from the engineto the tank tracks was in good working order. Danny realised that hisacceptance into the group was born when they heard he’d been a ‘smithy’. Hisfamiliarity with the tensile qualities of metal meant that he could help replacedamaged tracks and the already damaged armour.
The next few weeks in the camp allowed this acceptance to developbut, by now, Danny wanted respect to be forged in the heat of battle.
Life in the camp was strange. The war seemed to be somewhere elseor, at least, someone else’s problem. But they were too busy makingpreparations to be bored. Unquestionably, though, war was turning out to be alittle easier than Danny had anticipated. However while life at the camp wasrelatively untroubled by war, it was no more comfortable.
The flies and the sand made life miserable for all. Water wasrationed to less than a gallon per man per day. Away from the camp, in thedesert, it was limited to half a gallon. Through an elaborate system offiltering the daily ration sufficed for drinking, for washing, shaving and washingclothes. Private rationing combined with crew pooling ensured cooking utensilsand plates could be washed. It was a different world from the NAAFi never mindthe comforts he’d enjoyed in Little Gloston.
Sport was an important bulwark against the enervating effects ofthe heat. It maintained morale and discipline. Colonel Lister made it clearthat everyone had to participate. As a result, football and cricket matchesbecame a break from the regular chore of patrols, drill, tank maintenance andmilitary exercises.
Danny joined one of the teams as a goalkeeper. In Little Glostonthere’d been little opportunity to play football. He could ride horses, wrestleand run from angry farmers but anything involving a ball was beyond his frameof reference. Owing to his height, it was felt he might make a good ‘keeper.
Arthur, meanwhile, despite his age and less-than-athletic figure,volunteered to play outfield.
‘You know, the Hammers came to look at me play once. I’d haveplayed for them, too,’ said Arthur to his team.
‘What happened?’ asked one soldier.
‘I was rubbish,’ replied Arthur, before bowing to the othersoldiers who broke out laughing.
‘Every. Bloody. Time,’ laughed Danny, shaking his head. Dannymarched forward and put Arthur into a gentle head lock before adding to thegroup of soldiers, ‘Is it too much to ask that we don’t give him theopportunity?’
By now, Arthur was helpless with laughter. Danny released him andthe match began a minute or two later. Despite joking about his abilities, itwas apparent to Danny that Arthur could actually play a bit. His first strikeon goal went fizzing past Danny’s outstretched hand.
Joe Holmes turned and snarled at Danny, ‘You’re supposed to stopthose, yokel.’
Danny ignored the jibe and pointed out, ‘Can’t stop what I can’tsee.’ When he began to laugh at Arthur’s boisterous celebration, Holmes strodetowards him threateningly. He jabbed his finger at Danny saying, ‘I don’t seewhat’s so bloody funny.’
‘How about your attempt pathetic attempt at defending, Holmes? Trytackling him you dolt. It’s not like he’s a small target.’
‘Leave it out,’ shouted Arthur from the halfway line. However, hewas still in too much of a celebratory mood from scoring a goal to care.
Afternoons such as this ensured the pain of defeat receded. AsColonel Lister had suspected, sport, the arrival of new tanks, men and suppliesslowly did its job of rebuilding a regiment battered by failure and mourningthe loss of comrades. The slow process began of integrating men asinexperienced in soldiering as they were unready to face a test such as theAfrika Korps. Fate had forced these disparate men together. Fighting wouldforge something akin to love.
4
Halfaya Pass, , Egyptian / Libyan border, August 1941
‘If I hear that song one more time,’ complained Manfred, ‘I’llthrow the damn radio in the air and take a machine gun to it.’
Karl Overath looked at the young man, laughed and turned the radioup. Beside him Horst Kastner began singing a more ribald version of the songnow playing on the radio, Lili Marlene. Even Manfred laughed as the songdescended into an increasingly sordid conclusion. Kastner’s fine base baritonemade a startlingly absurd contrast to the degeneracy of the subject matter.Laughing, though, was a business fraught with risk. He covered his mouthquickly lest one of the many flies decide to set up residence there.
Another reason was that the two men outranked him, and they’d beenin the desert for over six months. They knew the ropes. If anything was goingto keep him alive, Manfred was sure it would be them.
People like Sergeant Overath and Corporal Kastner were the core ofthe Afrika Korps. Between them they had nearly twenty years of experience inthe army. The two men had come out on the first wave of Germans accompanyingRommel. Survivors of a dozen or more encounters with the enemy, Manfred hadmade it an article of faith to listen and learn from them.
Overath was taller than Manfred with a face burned brown by theintense African sun. It made his blue eyes seem cold. The truth was verydifferent. Like Corporal Kastner, Overath was warm in person, professional inconduct and effective in combat. The claustrophobic closeness of tank warfarerequired men that were more akin to brothers than comrades.
Over the course of the year they had seen men come and go fromtheir tank, some transferred to other commands, a few, very few in fact, werekilled. The two men were accustomed to new arrivals and recognised theimportance of integrating them quickly so that they worked not just as a unitbut as a single organism.
For the week that Manfred had been in the camp, he’d barely seenGerhardt. He’d lived, eaten, worked and slept with the tank crew. From aroundsix in the morning until late into the night, the other crew members drilled inthe tank, familiarised themselves with everything to do with its maintenance.By nightfall, Manfred would collapse exhausted
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