Crusader (A Novel of WWII Tank Warfare) by Jack Murray (best finance books of all time TXT) 📕

this would be a mild rap on the knuckles from an ordinarilymild-mannered officer was quickly dispelled. The Brigadier’s face was likethunder. In fact, Aston had never seen him look so angry. He immediately stoodto attention and saluted. It had been a long time since he had acted this wayin front of him.

Aston’s belated action caused a further wave of contempt in theangry officer. At this moment he realised, in a moment of epiphany, that theBrigadier was no one’s fool, especially not for any half-arsed noblemanmasquerading in officer’s clothes. He glared at Aston and then at Turner. Hefelt some sympathy towards Turner. The on-field provocation had been almostunendurable.

Almost. The Brigadier’s opening sally set the tone.

‘That is the worst display of behaviour I have seen on anysporting field in my life.’

‘Even if you hadn’t been officers in His Majesty’s Armed Forces,it would have been the worst display of,’ he paused for a moment; the word‘cheating’ hung in the air like a malodourous stench, but this would haveraised the temperature to dangerously high levels, even for him

‘Gamesmanship, Aston. A naked, blatant and frankly, disgracefuldisregard for the spirit of this game.’

Aston blanched and was about to reply when one look from theenraged officer silenced him. This was not the right time. However, his mindthought furiously about how to turn the situation to his advantage and stick atwelve inch boot into the softer part of Turner at the same time.

‘And you Turner, acting like a petulant child. Complaining atanything and everything happening on the field.’

There was no mistaking the rage in Turner’s eyes. The sense ofinjustice. Yes, he had been provoked but the manner he had dealt with thebaiting by Aston had not been becoming of his position in the army. Turneralmost had to bite his tongue to avoid confirming the Brigadier’s assessment ofhis behaviour.

He stared up at both men as if daring them to say something.Neither did so. This was a relief. It meant they had understood the seriousnessof the situation and, hopefully, how much their conduct had let their regimentdown.

‘I have cancelled both your remaining leave. In your case, Aston,that was two days. You had three, I believe, Turner. I will also send a briefreport to Lieutenant-Colonel Lister. He can deal with you as he sees fit.Dismissed.’

The Brigadier rose from his desk after the two men departed. Hewent to the window and looked out onto the grounds of the club. What shouldhave been a fun occasion, one where everyone could let off steam had descendedinto something ugly. The behaviour of Aston, in particular, went againsteverything he believed in. That Turner had been caught up in the crossfire waspartially his own fault but what man could have stood by and accepted such aviolent disregard for rules? His report to Lister would, at least, reflectwhere the weight of blame lay. He doubted it would be news to the colonel.

Aston and Turner glared at one another outside the office. Astoncould see the hatred in Turner’s eyes and realised that had this been anywhereelse, Turner would have been on him at that moment. However, Aston was seething,too.

He’d intended using this period in Cairo to press his suit toreturn to a non-frontline posting. This had been shot down in flames. And allbecause of this jumped up lieutenant who couldn’t take a bit of argy-bargy on apolo field. Instead, Turner’s acting like a cry baby had merely drawn attentionto the more robust approach to winning by Aston. He felt like screaming at thejumped up excrescence before him.

It wasn’t going to end here, though, thought Aston. He’d bide histime and extract a full settlement for the inconvenience Turner had caused him.In the meantime, he’d have to get Lister back on side before trying his luckagain with Cairo; perhaps in autumn.

The two men’s steps echoed along the corridor. Neither spoke. Hatredhad ceased to wind its tendrils around them. Now they were connected like bloodbrothers where revenge was a promise and death the reward.

 7

Cairo, Egypt,  September 1941

Arthur stared at the beer Danny had placed in front of him. Thedew glistened on the cold glass. Anticipation and desire met in an almostsordid longing in Arthur’s eyes.  Danny smiled at his friend as he drank in thevision of the amber liquid. A smile creased his lips and he glanced at Danny.Even Danny had not taken a sip yet, fascinated by the quasi-religiousexperience his friend was undergoing. Slowly, Arthur wrapped his fingers aroundthe glass and lifted. Danny raised his glass also and they clinked.

Arthur poured the liquid down his throat greedily, clearing halfthe glass on his first sip. He let the glass fall heavily onto the table butwas careful not to spill a drop.

‘Well?’ asked Danny.

‘’Tastes like camel piss. Right now, I don’t care.’

Danny laughed as Arthur necked the rest of the drink. Then Arthurthrew some coins onto the table.

‘Go on, get us another.’

‘It’s your turn,’ said Danny.

Arthur pointed to the barmaid. She was around thirty and French.

‘She’ll serve you long before she looks at me. That’s an order, PrivateShaw.’

‘Yes, Private Perry,’ laughed Danny.

Danny finished off his beer and stood up. He surveyed the bar. Itwas crowded, full of servicemen, all British as far as he could see. The onlylocal people in the bar were women. Danny didn’t see any Egyptian men. Amongthe British, there weren’t many officers. This type of bar was for the men inthe ranks. A smoke haze made Danny’s eyes water momentarily. The noise wasdeafening. Danny could hear a radio playing music from a Forces station. Danceband music played, and a few brave souls attempted to dance. The rest were hereto drink.

Danny and Arthur were not here to drink. At least not just todrink. Another couple of beers and both were ready to take their leave from thebar. The beers were meant to be a reminder, but the taste was nothing theyrecognised let alone enjoyed. They moved through the crowd and the noise to theexit and then out into the afternoon.

The autumn air was harsh and charged with something more than anelectrical current. They walked past heaving cafes where music