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

‘Are you ready?’

Manfred nodded. His muscles tensed. For the last five months he’dtrained himself and his muscles to load, load and load again quickly,efficiently and tirelessly. He was stronger and fitter as well thanks to atraining regime that was initially laughed at by the rest of the crew, but theyhad eventually adopted also: press-ups, sit ups. Every morning and everyevening.

He was ready.

Chapter 3:Sidi Rezegh (Nov 19th- 24th 1941)

 15

Gabr Fatma, forty miles south of Tobruk, Libya, November 19th,1941

It was just before eight in the morning. The night chill clung ona little, but daylight slowly warmed the bones of the 6th RTR. Allaround Danny, engines coughed, metal clashed on metal, officers shouted orders,men cursed under their breath, arguments started, and laughter erupted likelava from a volcano. Reed called Danny over.

‘Ammunition?’

‘Checked.’

‘Food?’

‘Two days.’

‘Water?’

The checks continued until Reed was satisfied. Felton gave Reedthe thumbs up that he had contact with the other tanks on the wireless. Theywere ready to go. Craig joined Felton down in the body of the tank. The enginespluttered bronchially to life. At the signal from Colonel Lister, the tanksset off in formation. The tanks took a wide crescent with four hundred yardsbetween each troop comprising three tanks. Lister’s squadron headquarters movedin the centre about five hundred yards behind the centre troop. Overall, thetank formation covered nearly three miles which ensured good visibility of thefront and the flanks.

In all, there were three squadrons of nine tanks and the fourtanks of Lister’s headquarters. Reed sat with his head and torso outside thecupola. Danny’s view of the world was a good deal more limited. He confinedhimself to a view of the desert using the periscope.

Around midday the tanks set off from Gabr Fatma at a stately twelvemiles per hour with C squadron leading and Danny’s B Squadron on the leftfollowed by armoured cars and lorries. A little sand flew up in the air as thetracks crunched over the thick crust of the rough-cast desert.

The journey to the Sidi Rezegh airfield progressed without anycontact with the enemy. They approached the southern escarpment through avalley. Progress was hampered by the soft ground caused by overnight rain.

‘I thought this was supposed to be the desert,’ complained Craig,‘not a bloody swamp.’

By early afternoon the sun was beginning to make itself apparent,and the tank felt oven-hot. They had been on the road for nearly two hours,conversation had long since dried up. Whether through nerves, bravado orboredom Danny decided enough was enough. He called up to Reed.

‘Water?’

‘No thanks,’ said Reed.

‘I meant for me, sarge,’ replied Danny. He received a gentle kickfrom the sergeant whose shoulders he could see shaking.

‘Cheeky git. Keep your eyes peeled.

’I am, sir. I’ve spotted a bit of sand ahead. Have you seen ittoo?’

Danny received another kick for his trouble, but he didn’t mind.It relieved a little of the tension that had been building inside the tanksince they’d left. A whisper of excitement clung to the gasoline-filled air.Fear and adrenaline were building inside Danny.

‘When do you think we’ll finally meet Jerry, sarge?’ shouted Dannyup to Reed.

‘Why are you so keen?’

‘The bullets will be a lot less painful than these kicks. Sir.’Danny successfully dodged the next kick from Reed, but Holmes punched him onthe arm.

‘Got him, sarge,’ shouted up Holmes.

Reed guffawed before shouting, ‘Carry on.’

-

Despite the distance between the vehicles, the soft sand beingthrown up by the tank ahead meant that everyone was caked with dust inside thetank. It made for an uncomfortable companion to the heat and the smell of fuel.Two hours after setting off they took a break. All of the men clamberedweary-limbed from the tanks.

‘Brew up and be quick about it,’ ordered Reed.

Danny hopped down from the tank and brewed up some tea for therest of the men. All around him, he saw men from the other tanks doing thesame. Their movements were like a dance troupe. The operation was highlychoreographed to ensure that tea was made as quickly and efficiently aspossible.

Danny started the fire while Felton put the brew can on top. Ittook nearly ten minutes before the tea was ready. Biscuits were shared out. Thebreak was no more than twenty minutes. In this time they had to make andconsume the tea, take care of any natural functions and then kick over alltraces of their stop before returning to the tank and setting off.

‘Feel better?’ asked Felton as the tank started up and they movedof slowly.

‘Wonderful,’ laughed Danny but his senses were alert for menacethat lay waiting ahead. The tank bumped and rolled along and soon everyone wasmiserable again.

-

Captain Aston looked at the procession with a wearied eye. Hespoke into his microphone.

‘I’m surprised we didn’t take out a billboard in Piccadilly Circusto advertise our movements.’

The men below laughed. They enjoyed Aston’s laconic,semi-rebellious humour.

‘Want me to fire a few shells to announce to Jerry that we’re onour way?’

‘That’s the spirit, Stone. Let the world know.’

Aston glanced to his left and saw that Lieutenant Turner was nowrunning parallel with him. He gave a mock wave salute which Turner ignored.This amused Aston for some reason and put him in finer fettle than he mightotherwise have been. Winding up the pious little pup always had that effect onhim. It took his mind off his quaking innards.

Aston glanced along the line, left and right. Thirty odd tankslooked impressive, but he doubted how daunting the enemy would find it. Theyhad hundreds of better made, more deadly tanks waiting for them. It was enoughto make a man sob. He listened to the Crusader labouring through therain-softened ground and swore with feeling.

As he did so, he heard Lister’s voice come over on the radio. Fora moment panic swept through him as he wondered if his profanities had beenbroadcast to everyone.

‘Hello, Lister calling. Just heard confirmation that the 22ndencountering enemy force of guns at el Gubi. Heavy losses. The South Africansare in cars just ahead of you. They’ve had no contact with the enemy.’

‘Bloody hell,’ said Aston off microphone, ‘That’s the Italians,isn’t it? How can they not beat them?’

‘C Squadron will