Crusader (A Novel of WWII Tank Warfare) Read online

  ‘You just keep setting them up, son,’ added Arthur.

  ‘Hey, driver,’ shouted Jim Hamilton in his heavy midlands accent, ‘I need to siphon the python.’

  ‘You mean worm, don’t you Jim?’ said Arthur.

  ‘Cross your legs,’ came the shout from the front of the truck.

  ‘I mean it,’ said Hamilton. He did too.

  The smiles round the truck managed the improbable feat of being both sympathetic and highly entertained by their comrade’s problem.

  ‘Bit of a pre-dick-a-ment, Jim isn’t it?’ said Arthur. Hamilton laughed while pointing out it was not funny.

  They continued along the road, each bump adding to Hamilton’s distress and everyone else’s entertainment. Finally, Hamilton could take no more. He stood up and walked to the rear of the truck. Looking down at two of the recruits seated at the end, he said, ‘Grab a hold of my legs.’

  The rest of the truck exploded into laughter when the two boys told him what he could do with this idea.

  ‘It’s up to you but I have to go. Better I’m stable than falling around the place. You’ll get caught in the crossfire long before we reach the Jerry.

  Reluctantly the two men took a hold of Hamilton, who proceeded to irrigate the desert.

  ‘There’ll be palm trees when we come back here next, ‘ commented Arthur, fascinated by Hamilton’s epic surge.’

  In fact, epic barely covered the duration of Hamilton’s relief effort.

  ‘When did you last go anyway?’ asked Danny.

  ‘Christmas,’ replied Hamilton.

  Arthur, in fact the whole truck, were awestruck by Hamilton’s performance.

  ‘You been storing it in a jerrican?’ inquired Arthur.

  To the sound of enthusiastic applause, and without any collateral damage through friendly fire, Hamilton returned to his seat much lighter of mood as well as bladder.

  ‘I think I need to go now,’ said Arthur.

  The two boys at the back of the truck indicated to him, in terms as explicit as they were succinct, that he’d be on his own in this endeavour.

  -

  The first sight of the camp based at El Alamein was impressive. So much so that it silenced for a few minutes the men on the three-ton truck. Stretching for a couple of miles were hundreds of M3 and Crusader tanks, lorries, half-tracks and jeeps. Amongst the motor vehicles were tents of varying sizes, all a khaki colour. It was difficult to know how many soldiers were in the camp, but it could have been a few thousand or more. Danny glanced at Arthur and raised his eyebrows.

  This was it. They were at the war.

  Overhead a couple of planes flew over the camp. Danny caught his breath before recognising the distinctive shape of the Hurricane. The two planes landed somewhere in the distance at the far end of the camp.

  Arthur was the first to find his voice.

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  This seemed to sum up the feelings of the other men on the truck. They were silent for a few moments and then Arthur added, ‘I don’t see the swimming pool they promised in the poster.’

  The truck erupted into laughter as they pulled into the camp. A few of the soldiers glanced up in irritation at the new arrivals. Some shook their heads. Danny noticed one soldier restraining another from marching over to the truck, which had halted in a large square with several tents on the perimeter.

  ‘We should go easy a bit, Arthur. They look a bit down.’

  Arthur nodded.

  ‘They looked whipped,’ said Ray Hill, another of the young men Danny and Arthur had befriended in Alexandria. They did, too. The faces of the men in the camp seemed unvaryingly battle-shocked. Their movements were slow, as if they were wading through quicksand.

  Danny was stunned by the appearance and demeanour of the men in the camp. To a man, they seemed underfed. Many went without shirts. Others wore shirts, unbuttoned. A vacuum seemed to exist where spirit, discipline and morale should have been present. If this was what Rommel was fighting against, thought Danny, no wonder he’s winning.

  -

  Observing the arrival of the fleet of trucks was a colonel. He was a man in his early forties. Beside him stood a slightly younger man, a captain, smoking a cheroot. He looked at the new arrivals and shook his head dismissively.

  ‘More lambs to the slaughter.’

  The colonel glanced at the captain. Once again, he felt his anger rise. Rather than rebuke the captain, he said, ‘See that Sergeant Reed sorts the men out.’

  ‘He’s on his way,’ said the captain before remembering to add, ‘sir.’

  The colonel was a distinguished looking man wearing shirt and shorts. Greying hair peaked out from under his cap. The man beside him was tall, elegantly dressed, seemingly immune from the intense African heat. Fair-haired, with a slim moustache and clear blue eyes, he would have been a movie producer’s dream of how a British army officer should be.

  Lieutenant-Colonel Lister would have begged to differ.

  The two officers watched Reed march towards the trucks. He began to direct the new arrivals to form ranks. Lister looked on with approval. Now this was a soldier, he thought. He glanced again at the tall captain. There was nothing he could do. He was stuck with him.

  -

  Danny jumped down from the truck and turned to Arthur with a big grin on his face.

  ‘Do you want some help?’

  Arthur’s two word response suggested not. However, it did raise a another laugh from the group. Danny regretted the wisecrack, not because he was worried about offending Arthur, but he realised the laughter had already drawn unwelcome attention to the new arrivals. Danny motioned to the others to stop laughing.

  But it was already too late.

  A nearby soldier sped over towards them. There was anger in his eyes. Danny spun around as the soldier neared them.

  ‘What’s so bloody funny?’

  ‘Nothing, chum,’ said Danny, ‘It’s been a long trip.’

  One of his mates shouted, ‘Leave it, Harry!’ But the soldier was beyond listening. He was as tall as Danny, wiry like so many of the soldier’s they’d seen on the way in. He was shirtless. The soldier’s ribs glistened in the early afternoon sun.

  He aimed a swing at Danny who, he had decided, was to blame for the laughter. This was probably true, but nonetheless unfair. Danny easily ducked the punch. The momentum of the soldier called Harry, carried him towards Danny. Moments later Danny flipped him into the air, and he landed on the ground with a thud. Danny stood over him and offered to help him up.

  A bunch of soldiers, aware of the ruckus, stopped what they were doing. Harry snarled and was on his feet in an instant. There was mad gleam in his eye. Danny knew this was not going to end immediately. He fancied his chances. Though the soldier was older than him, Danny was taller and more muscled. The two men, eyes fixed on one another, circled slowly.

  ‘Disgraceful,’ said the captain. He was about to move forward when he felt the stick of Lister stop him. He looked at aghast at the lieutenant-colonel. ‘You can’t seriously countenance this?’

  Lister noted, once again, the absence of ‘sir’ from the captain. He studied the captain for a moment. Finally, he removed a pipe from his mouth and turned towards the two opponents.

  ‘Let them blow off steam. It might do people around here some good to see what fighting looks like.’

  The captain turned and glared at his superior officer. Lister looked back to his captain, a half smile on his face. For moment the captain seemed primed to say something but then thought better of it. Meanwhile Sergeant Reed had caught the eye of Colonel Lister. The merest shake of the head told Reed to let things play out. He nodded back to Lister.

  Harry made his move on Danny. Despite anticipating this, Danny was immediately conscious that Harry was no mug. Seconds later he almost proved it by throwing Danny to the ground. Danny only just managed to stay on his feet. Before Harry could press home, his advantage Danny swept in low and nearly deposited his opponent o
nce more on the ground. However, this left him open to counterattack. Seconds later Harry managed to trip Danny while he was still unbalanced by his initial attack.

  This was like a sucker punch to Danny. He cursed himself for being too complacent. Too many easy victories in the past had left him unprepared against someone of genuine ability. The two men circled one another. Danny noted that Harry no longer had his fists clenched. This may have been out of respect for Danny or, perhaps, recognition he’d gone too far.

  They clashed again. This time Danny was ready for any move Harry tried. Similarly, Harry was wise to Danny’s youthful power allied to technique. A minute of grappling for advantage resulted in neither man gaining an edge. Harry was breathing hard. Danny felt sure that if he kept the pressure on, he’d soon gain the advantage.

  At this point Reed saw Lister nod. Lister had seen the contest was likely to end soon. It was time to end what had been an evenly matched contest. Lister did not want to see a soldier who had already seen action over the summer suffer another defeat. The sergeant stepped forward and the two combatants relaxed their pose. Each had a rueful grin on his face. Danny felt relief. He’d wanted the fight to end; this felt fair. Honours even.

  ‘Sorry, mate, the name’s Harry Cornwell,’ said Harry holding out his hand.

  ‘No need, I’m Danny. Danny Shaw,’ replied Danny, gripping the outstretched hand.

  ‘You can handle yourself, Dan,’ commented Harry as he brushed sand off his body.

  Danny laughed, ‘You too, Harry. No one’s done that to me since I was a kid.’

  ‘You’re still a kid, Shaw,’ growled Sergeant Reed at Danny. ‘Get your gear and fall in line.’

  This was clearly not a request and Danny suspected that patience was not the sergeant’s best quality. He jumped to it immediately and fell in alongside Arthur.

  From the side of his mouth Arthur said, ‘Well done, kid. Another ten minutes you’d have ‘ad ‘im.’

  ‘No talking in line. Attention,’ barked Sergeant Reed. Behind him the two officers had arrived to meet the new men. The two men walked along the line of the new arrivals.

  Finally, they moved back to stand alongside Reed. The sergeant ordered the men to stand at ease. The group moved as one. Reed nodded.

  ‘Welcome to El Alamein,’ said the lieutenant-colonel. ‘My name is Lister. As you can see, I am your commanding officer. I won’t lie to you, we’ve had it pretty rough. The men here have been in combat almost non-stop for months. We’re up against a determined enemy. The German soldier certainly presents a greater challenge than many of the Italians we have faced. But they are men also. They are beatable. You will help us defeat them. And make no mistake, defeat them we shall.’

  Lister finished his speech and ordered Reed to disperse the men. Danny and Arthur fell out and followed the others to their stations.

  -

  An hour later the men who had arrived in the convoy with Danny reassembled in the centre of the garrison. Danny sat down with Arthur and Corporal Phil Lawrence in a semi-circle along with a hundred or so of the new arrivals. They were all part of the tank regiment. Some would be in tanks, others, like Hamilton, would form part of the echelon that supplied the tanks with fuel, food, water and ammunition.

  A lieutenant stood in front of the new arrivals. The lieutenant was older than Danny but not much. The sun had reddened his skin, but there was no mistaking him for anything other than a British officer. The impression was confirmed when he began to speak.

  ‘Don’t think he’s been to the Dog and Duck lately,’ whispered Arthur.

  ‘Shh,’ grinned Danny as they listened to the lieutenant. He was standing in front of a map showing Egypt and the eastern region of Libya, Cyrenaica.

  ‘Gentlemen, welcome to your new home. If we do our job well, hopefully it won’t be a long stay. Sadly, we’ve some unwelcome guests that need to be ejected.’

  There was a ripple of laughter.

  ‘My name is Lieutenant Turner. I’m with the Royal Tank Regiment. The map behind me shows you were we are.’ Turner used a stick to indicate a spot in the map.

  ‘You may have noticed we’re in the desert. What we lack in water and amusement is more than compensated for by the number of flies. The good news is that there are not so many of them in the middle of the desert. The bad news is that’s where we’ll meet Jerry. So if the flies don’t get you…’

  The lieutenant left the rest of the line unsaid as the men laughed. It was clear the young lieutenant was popular and had a good way with soldiers. Lieutenant Colonel Lister was standing at the side looking on. He liked Turner and the easy authority he exuded. He glanced at the captain beside him and wished these leadership qualities were shared by all of his officers.

  ‘The western desert is not full of sand and dunes. Forget Beau Geste or Laurel and Hardy. It’s an arid combination of sand and rock. Did I mention the heat? This is not summer in Blackpool, believe me. As much as the days are hot, the nights can be bitterly cold.’

  Turner’s stick wandered along the Mediterranean coast from El Alamein westward to Libya. He indicated a line running down from the Mediterranean near the border between Egypt and Cyrenaica, ‘This is the Halfaya Pass. Running south is an escarpment facing Egypt which is around six hundred feet high. The pass is the route through from Egypt to the enemy. Not surprisingly, Jerry is keen that we don’t come through. Hence, it’s other name, Hellfire Pass.’

  Danny had heard mention of the Hellfire Pass. Now he could see why it would have been so named. He felt a prickle on his skin that was nothing to do with the flies or the heat.

  ‘You can go first through there, Danny-boy,’ whispered Arthur.

  ‘Age before beauty, old man,’ replied Danny.

  ‘On the border, the Italians have made a wire fence. Not quite sure what it was meant to do. It’ll hardly stop a tank. The minefields will, though. To get there from here, we have a coastal track. I won’t call it a road. To our south we have the Qattara Depression. This is a salt plain which is impassable. It runs from Alamein down the escarpment to a great sand sea. I think this is what we think of when we hear the word desert. Light vehicles can drive over it but not heavy armour. This means Jerry will not be able to come around our flank without stretching his supply lines to an impossible degree. No, this is the only way he can get to us, and us to him. It’s a narrow strip as you can see, and it leads up to the coast.’

  ‘Glad we’re in a tank going through that,’ whispered Phil Lawrence. Danny and Arthur couldn’t agree more.

  ‘Once we’re past all this, up here is our goal.’ Turner’s stick tapped on Tobruk which lay on the coast of Libya, three hundred miles to the west of Alamein.

  ‘Our boys are there and they’re getting quite a pounding. Jerry has them surrounded and, as we found out over the last few months, they’re desperate to take Tobruk. If they take it, they’ll have another port to bring in men and equipment. They’ll not have to worry about us attacking them from behind their lines. As you may gather, Tobruk is of tremendous strategic importance to both sides. If we can end the siege, we’ll have a foothold in Cyrenaica from which we can strike westward towards Benghazi, here,’ said Turner pointing to a coastal city to the west of Tobruk, ‘and then to Tripoli. With the fall of Tripoli, Libya will ours. Any questions?’

  Arthur nudged Danny in the ribs.

  ‘Go on, son, now’s your chance.’

  Danny whispered back, in no uncertain terms, that this was not the case.

  Arthur put his hand up. Danny glanced in askance at his friend.

  ‘Yes,’ said Turner, ‘That man over there.’ In fact, Turner seemed rather surprised by this. His request for questions was always met with a stony silence.

  Arthur, grinning broadly, said, ‘My mate Danny here has a question. He’s a bit shy.’

  The group erupted into laughter as it was plain from the look on Danny’s face that the last thing, he had on his mind was to ask a question.

  ‘Go on, so
n,’ urged Arthur ‘stand up.’

  By now Turner was grinning broadly as was Lieutenant Colonel Lister. Turner was now in on the joke.

  ‘Up you get, young man.’

  Danny rose reluctantly to his feet, managing to give Arthur a kick on the way up.

  ‘Ow,’ exclaimed Arthur, ‘no need for that, Danny-boy.’

  More laughter from the semi-circle of men and Turner. All eyes were now on Danny. He took a deep breath and decided in for a penny.

  ‘What’s your name?’ asked Turner.

  ‘Shaw, sir.’

  ‘Carry on, Shaw,’ said Turner, trying to supress his grin.

  ‘First of all, sir, thank you for a very clear presentation on the geography of the country and our objective. My friend Private Perry here, that’s Arthur Perry everyone, is a bit slow so I’ll explain it to him again later.’

  Once more the men erupted into laughter; none more so that Arthur.

  ‘So my question is,’ at which point Danny paused while he thought furiously of something to ask. ‘My question is how much of the success of Rommel is down to him or to better equipment?’

  Danny heard Arthur exhale loudly. It was probably the only sound in the group. If you could have heard a pin drop it would probably have been from the grenade Danny had just lobbed. Turner raised his eyebrows and glanced at Lister. The exchange of glances caused Danny’s heart to sink. Had he gone too far? Danny risked a glance in the direction of Lister. There was a smile on the lieutenant colonel’s face. Beside him stood the same captain from earlier. His face was thunder. A few of the other officers seemed to be smiling, though.

  ‘Perhaps I should answer this question,’ said Lister, taking over. He walked towards the group and stood beside Turner. ‘It’s a very good question, I might add, from Shaw. It’s one, I suspect, that you men have asked yourselves more than once. We should be careful about turning Rommel into some indestructible force. He’s a man just like us. He will be prone to mistakes like all of us. We just need to put him under the kind of pressure he’s put us under. When that happens, we shall see what he’s made of.’

  Danny was still on his feet with his eyes on Lister. However, he could see the other officers nodding in agreement.