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but the intensity of Kastnerand the focus of Fischer and Kohler acted as a restraint on the desire to givevoice to the relief he was feeling. And it was a relief that had nothing to dowith mere survival. Kastner signalled for Manfred to stop loading. At thispoint Manfred became aware that he was bathed in sweat. In fact, they all were.His legs were aching, and he didn’t want to think about what his arms would belike tonight.

He was hungry also. It seemed unlikely they would be eating forhours yet. The rumble of his stomach was only just drowned out by the sound ofthe tank’s engine and the sporadic sounds of battle.

Just before six thirty the fading light saw the battle peter outto its conclusion. Chatter on the radio confirmed Overath’s view that theBritish were slowly pulling back down the reverse side of the slope. There wasalso news that a cloud of dust had been spotted coming from the west. Thiscould only be British reinforcements.

Overath looked around at his tank crew. Streaks of sweat ran downhis dust covered face. But there was no mistaking the satisfaction he felt. Itwas not in his nature to dispense praise, however. He gave a nod. News from thewireless suggested that their commander, Neumann-Silkov, had sent an artilleryscreen to their western flank to discourage any British ideas of a surpriseattack.

Manfred was not sorry to hear that the attack would cease. Therisk of running into the British in the dark was too great, potentiallyconfusing and would likely result in unnecessary casualties. The adrenalinerush of the afternoon had worn off completely now. He felt a fatigue he’d notexperienced since that night he and Gerhardt had run around the square. Everymuscle in his body was in pain and competing for sympathy.

‘We’re to pull back,’ announced Overath, a little bit later.‘Command think it’s too much of a risk to camp on the battlefield.’

The tank started to move back slowly. It was night now, butManfred popped his head up above and could see the signs of battle everywhere. Hecould see some German tanks that had been destroyed. It was something of ashock. The shots had seemed to ping off their tank. This had made Manfred feelinvulnerable. The reality was somewhat different. The British could do moredamage than he’d realised. This was alarming. The thought that they were notquite so invincible jolted him. His next thought was for Gerhardt. Had he beenin one of the tanks that had been destroyed?

From what he could see there were lights at ten or more tanks.Perhaps they were recoverable. They passed a few that had been destroyed. Thecharred remains of some bodies lay around. Manfred ducked back into the tank.The chill he felt was more than just the night air. He saw Kastner looking athim.

‘How many destroyed?’

‘It was hard to see. More than ten, probably twenty.’

Kastner nodded. Overath glanced up.

‘Thirty tanks were hit or destroyed. I don’t know how many aredead. When we get back to the camp, we need to refuel and rearm. We also needto check the engine and the tracks. Then make me something to eat. I’mstarving.’

Manfred managed to smile.

‘Yes, sir.’

As they drove into their camp for the night the wireless crackledwith the news that that the B.B.C had announced the British offensive in Libyahad started.

‘They must be confident to broadcast that,’ said Manfred.

‘Or stupid,’ said Kastner, drily.

By now everyone in the tank was ravenous. The thought of food,even if it was the usual tinned muck, was the only thing on the mind of eachman. It was night when the regiment settled into its hedgehog position.

Overath came over to Manfred as they sat and waited for the supplytrain to find the regiment in the desert.

‘Do you know how many rounds you loaded today?’

Manfred laughed, ‘Funnily enough, I wasn’t counting.’

‘Fifty seven. Other tanks shot over sixty rounds today. You needto load faster.’

With that Overath turned and walked away leaving Manfred feelingcompletely deflated. He couldn’t see the grin on Overath’s face, though.

Fischer punched him lightly on the arm.

‘Do you know how many rounds we fired on my first time as loader?

‘Tell me,’ said Manfred sourly, ‘One hundred?’

‘Fifty one.’

-

At 0230 Manfred found out how war has its own body clock. He’dbedded down for the night less than two hours previously having re-armed andre-fuelled the tank.

‘Get up, everyone,’ said Overath. ‘We have to head towards the SidiRezegh airfield. The Allies have taken it. We’re joining the 21stPanzer group. We’re going to take it back. We march at 0300 hours.’

Manfred silently groaned. He rose and felt the cold damp air bathehis skin. A swift glance towards Fischer and Kohler at least reassured him thathe was not alone. They looked just as tired and just as disgruntled.

 19

Sidi Rezegh Airfield, Libya, November 21st, 1941

 

The wake-up call felt like it had come before Danny had actuallybeen to sleep. He opened one eye and saw that it was still dark. He groaned.All around him he could hear similarly disgruntled noises. It never felt morelike mutiny in the army than first thing in the morning. Especially when it wasstill dark.

The cruel reality of war wasn’t just the fear of death. It was theconstant company of hunger and fatigue. They never left you even when thefighting stopped. And then there was the cold. It woke up with you in themorning and settled down beside you at night. Danny’s hands were numb. It tooka minute to get the blood flowing. At that time in the morning he didn’t have aminute.

The sight of Reed turning in his direction had Danny on his feetin seconds and heading towards the provisions. He had a fire started in theblink of a bleary eye, despite his body feeling like it had been pummelled by aFreddie Mills. His arms were dead. Even the cooking pots felt like leadweights. He saw Holmes looking at him wryly. Danny told him specifically andsuccinctly where he could go. Holmes erupted into laughter. Joined, it must besaid, by Reed. The two men looked unsympathetically at Danny’s struggle tosubject tired muscles to his will. Moments

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