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up. Don’t let the engine stall.’

Cursing, quite literally, like a trooper, Aston raised his headbriefly through the cupola. He motioned for the three men to jump on.

-

Blackness.

Sounds of shouting.

Danny felt himself being pulled. Muscles seemed to strain andtear. The pain woke him. He was outside on the sand. All around him he couldhear explosions. The smell of cordite, petrol and something else he would oneday learn was the smell of burnt flesh infected the air. His eyes could notfocus, and they were stinging with sand and smoke. Finally some vision returnedto his eyes. He looked up and saw Craig.

‘You all right, son?’ shouted Craig.

Danny couldn’t speak but nodded.

‘Can you get on your feet? We need to move.’

Danny found he could move his legs and quickly rose to his feet.His head was ringing like he’d been hit repeatedly by a cricket bat. He glancedaround him, but Craig was pulling him away.

‘No time. Move!’ shouted the Ulsterman.

Danny realised Felton was on the other side of him holding hisarm. They were running, half dragging him away towards a tank that wasreversing. It slowed down and Danny could see someone appear and wave them toclimb aboard. The sounds of battle were dulled by a combination of the pain inDanny’s arms and the ringing in his ears.

Moments later he felt himself picked up and then he was on top ofthe tank. Craig and Felton were beside him. The tank picked up speed and Dannywas nearly thrown off. He grabbed hold of some metal and held on for dear life.

Up ahead he could see their tank. It was in flames. Lying besideit was the turret of another tank. Danny remembered they’d been hit. His mindwas scrambled. Something important was missing. He stared at the sight in frontof him. More than a dozen British tanks lay in flames. There were puffs ofwhite smoke in the distance then he would hear a sound overhead. He ducked whenhe heard it, like that would help.

Something important was missing. What the hell was it?

Finally.

‘Where’s sarge?’

He turned to Craig. The Ulsterman looked grim.

‘Dead.’

‘Holmes’

Craig shook his head. Danny couldn’t believe it. Two men dead fromthe tank within minutes of the attack commencing. The death of Reed seemedextraordinary to him. Of all the men he’d met so far, he admired the sergeantmost. He had an air about him that all the men recognised. Even Holmes seemedto defer to Reed for reasons that went beyond rank. It felt to Danny as if hiswar was over before it had even started.

He looked back towards the stricken tank. For the first time hebecame aware of a gash on his forehead. He put his hand to the wound. Craigsmiled grimly at him.

‘Sorry, we banged your head as we pulled you out.’

‘Idiot,’ responded Danny. ‘Thanks.’ He meant it.

The tanks continued reversing as shot sang all around them. What amess. He turned to Felton to say thanks. As he did so, a shell burst at theside of the tank. Felton looked shocked for a second and then he slumpedforward into Danny’s arms. The back of his head was a bloody mess. Craig’s eyeswidened in horror. Danny’s throat was too parched to cry out. He resisted everyimpulse to throw the dead body off the tank. Instead, in the midst of themayhem, he gently laid the body out on the top of the hull.

Craig and Danny kept their heads down. They passed one bombed outarmoured vehicle after another. The charred remains of men lay abandoned likeleaves in autumn. Every yard backwards was accompanied by eruptions close by. Shardsof shell stung the side of the tank. The two men glanced at one another.

Both Danny and Craig could do nothing but hold on. Tears werestreaming down the face of the Ulsterman. Tears for a fallen comrade. Dannyheard him whispering over and over again a long forgotten psalm as a choir ofwhistling shells fell around them.

‘…though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I willfear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.’

-

Minutes later they were cresting the northern escarpment andheading towards point 167 to meet with the remaining tanks of A squadron whohad not taken part in the action. Some degree of safety was in sight. But forhow long? The other tanks were now visible. The intensity of the fire hadsubsided. The tank finally drew to halt.

How many had survived? Danny raised himself up and looked around.From out of the hatch emerged Captain Aston. Danny was aware of other crewmembers scrambling out from the hatch located in the hull. A number of othermen came along to help Danny and Craig down from the tank.

‘Thanks,’ said Danny. He saw Craig move towards Felton. Dannyjoined him and the two men took their fallen comrade down from the front of thetank. Stretcher bearers appeared. Felton departed. Danny and Craig stared athis departure in silence. He felt a hand on his back. A soldier was speaking tohim. He half recognised him, but his mind was too scrambled from what he’d beenthough.

‘What the hell happened, mate?’

Unable to speak, Danny shook his head. Aston appeared behind thesoldier. Grime streaked by sweat covered his face. He was smoking a cheroot.

‘Do you need a doctor?’ asked Aston glancing at the side of Danny’sface which was caked with blood. The captain seemed in possession of himselfbut there was a tremor in his voice.

‘No,’ replied Danny but Aston was already walking away towards SquadronA’s tanks.

Aston joined the remaining officers huddled around a tall, wellmade-man wearing corduroy trousers. This was the head of the Support Group,Brigadier Jock Campbell. Aston was the last to join the group of officers. Campbellnodded to Aston as he arrived. A quick glance around confirmed there were notmany officers left. He and Longworth were the two most senior officers. Hisfirst thought was to pray that Longworth was the more senior of the two. With asinking heart, Aston realised he was going to be pitched right back into thefight. Carousing in Cairo seemed a lifetime ago.

 Aston looked into the clear blue eyes

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