El Alamein by Jack Murray (most popular novels of all time txt) 📕

the tank was oven-hot and progress slow. Thankfully the marksmanship of the Allied artillery did not match the standard of the Afrika Korps. In fact, to Manfred’s eyes, it seemed perfunctory. Perhaps their progress had been greater than he’d imagined, and the Allied gun crews were fearful of hitting their own men. Position after position was being overrun. It felt so different to this time last year when they’d been held at bay by pinpoint anti-tank shelling.

By 1000 Manfred’s tank had run out of orange smoke bombs to mark its position. The dust being thrown up by the bombing made identification of friend or enemy tanks next to impossible for the Luftwaffe. At Manfred’s suggestion they resorted to sending up purple flairs to the next wave of Stuka attacks.

The radio spat updates on the progress of the attack. The 2nd Battalion, with Gerhardt, had driven Allied tanks eastwards while Manfred and the 1st Battalion rolled west towards Gabr Gasem. The 21st Panzer division was now winning the battle on the escarpment north of Kings Cross which was being used by the Allies to shell the Axis advance. Bit by bit the defensive ring around Tobruk was being dismantled.

-

The truck stopped at the edge of the Pilastrano ridge and the remaining soldiers debouched to the thunderous sound of explosions. Was this the third, fourth or tenth wave of aerial bombing? Tom had lost count. He glanced up briefly at the blue sky and saw the HE-111 bombers flying off having deposited their deadly payload. He didn’t doubt others would follow.

Billowing black smoke rose into the cerulean sky. Vehicles and buildings lay ablaze after the latest attack. It seemed the enemy was picking them off area by area in a concerted yet methodical dismantling of their fighting capability and their spirit. Evil smelling smoke laced with tongues of red crackled a malign portent that worse was to come.

The Pilastrano ridge was on the western side of Tobruk. Defensive ditches had been dug but they now looked dangerously exposed when faced with the likely arrival of the tanks as well as the constant threat of aerial attack. Soldiers were dotted along the ridge but how they were meant to fight back was a mystery to Tom. He surveyed the appalling scene and arrived at a rather black conclusion.

‘It’s like that Errol Flynn movie,’ yelled Tom over the noise of the explosions.

‘Which one?’

‘You know. The one where he plays General Custer.

‘They Died with Their Boots On?’

‘Yes, that one,’ shouted Tom as they ran inside the fort to take cover.

‘Glad you’re so chipper about our chances,’ replied Bert. He laughed grimly as he said this.

‘I’m not,’ admitted Tom watching soldiers streaming to take cover. He looked around him. The fort was becoming more crowded, yet the reason why was unclear to him.

‘This is no good. We’ll be sitting ducks if we go in there.’

‘Any suggestions about where we go?’ asked Bert. His eyes darted around looking for somewhere they could move to. The glare of the afternoon sun made him squint. He saw Tom staring up at a bunker sixty yards away. A six-pound gun was peeking out from a gap. No one seemed to be manning it.

‘What about there?’ asked Tom.

In the distance they heard the rumble of the German advance, but the number of explosions had died down since the last sortie from the Luftwaffe. Bert glanced up to check there were no more planes and then nodded. They clambered over the ridge and made their way to the gun placement.

The reason why it had ceased firing became immediately plain when they arrived. Two dead bodies lay in the small bunker. They dragged the dead men out of the way. There was no time for a eulogy.

‘Sorry, mate,’ said Tom by way of apology for his rough handling. The sound of tanks and other vehicles was growing louder.

‘Can you remember how to fire one of these things?’ asked Bert all of a sudden.

‘That’s a point,’ replied Tom, staring at the breech. Then another more important thought struck him. ‘Where’s the ammo?’

They looked around. All they could see were spent shells. Their eyes met.

‘That’s not much bloody good.’

Then the first of the tanks appeared in view. It was German. They ducked down. But it was too late. They saw the tank draw to a halt. Tom’s breath was coming in short gasps now. He glanced at Bert. His friend was white with fear. Tom peeked over the mound of the bunker and his worst fears were confirmed.

The turret was moving.

-

The tank trundled along the road at a leisurely pace. Manfred and Basler’s eyes were glued to their sights. Ahead they could see soldiers streaming into the fortress. To their right lay a low escarpment. Dug into the ridge were signs of gun placements.

‘I see a gun. Ten metres up at two o’clock.’ said Manfred, peering through his telescope. ‘Traversing right.’

‘Hurry,’ replied Basler. ‘If it’s a fifty-seven millimetre we’re dead at this range.’

‘I wonder why it’s not firing,’ replied Manfred. His movements were rapid, but he was calm. The gun did not seem to be manned.

‘I can’t see anyone,’ responded Basler squinting through his periscope. ‘But we need to put it out of action. Fire when you’re ready.’

The gun was now in Manfred’s sights. He glanced at Kleff. The young loader was tensed but ready to load the shell into the breech.

‘HE shell.’

Kleff nodded and quickly opened the breech. The movement was swift and they were ready. Manfred did not want to waste his ammunition. Nor did he want to look foolish by missing. He took a second to confirm the accuracy of his aim. His finger hovered over the firing button.

-

‘It’s pointing at us, Bert,’ said Tom breathlessly. His heart was racing and he felt faint with fear. ‘Have you a white handkerchief?’

‘No,’ said Bert. He could barely speak. His throat tightened.

Tom uttered an oath then took off his helmet and stuck it on the end of his rifle. He started to hold it