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

Manfred looked at Fischer and asked, ‘Do you know what day it is?’

Fischer was as exhausted as Manfred and the mental arithmetic tooka few moments. Finally, he offered an uncertain answer.

‘Sunday?’

‘Yes, Sunday. It’s Totensonntag (Sunday of the Dead).’

This seemed to surprise Fischer. Manfred wasn’t sure if this wasbecause he was not religious or if it was for the more plausible reason thathe’d completely lost track of time. The months of ennui, of waiting forsomething to happen had been followed by ceaseless days of struggle against thetwin enemies they faced: the allies and the desert.

‘I hadn’t realised,’ replied Fischer. ‘Do you pray, Manfred?’

It was Manfred’s turn to be surprised. The answer was ‘no’ and hadbeen ‘no’ since his early teens. Even when he was walking away from the SouthAfricans half expecting to be shot in the back, he hadn’t prayed. Even whenhe’d heard of the death of his mother, it hadn’t occurred to him to pray forher soul. Was this because he’d become so inured to death or simply because heno longer cared for his mother? The tears were stinging his eyes now.

‘My mother died two months ago,’ said Manfred absently. A momentlater he felt Fischer’s hand tap his elbow.

‘I’m sorry.’

Manfred shook his head. He felt guilty now and wanted to giveFischer a reason not to think of this anymore.

‘She wasn’t well. It was a release,’ he lied. Guilt and shamewelled up within him. It felt as if he was disowning his mother. He wanted tosay something else. Instead, he pointed behind Fischer. Major Fenski,accompanied by Captain Kummel, was walking along the ranks of the tank crews. Theystopped every so often to chat to some men before continuing their inspection.

The smile on Fenski’s face was contagious. And no wonder. He was freshfrom the previous evening’s triumph. Even Manfred felt a surge of confidence throughhis body waking up his dulled senses.

‘Are you ready, boys?’ asked Fenski as he arrived at Manfred’stank.

‘Yes, sir,’ grinned Lieutenant Peters, climbing down from the tankto greet their battalion commander.

‘Good. We have a big day ahead of us,’ said the major before swiftlymoving on to the next tank.

Peters looked at his tank crew and said, ‘Hurry.’

Manfred glanced up to the sky and offered a brief silent prayer tohis mother. Then he and Fischer began rolling up their bedding to the sound ofengines, then men, coughing into life and laughter.

-

The tank rumbled forward. Much to the evident annoyance ofFischer, Manfred was asked by Peters to sit at the top while he went down tothe wireless. He wanted to listen and respond to the instructions issuing fromFenski. Although he and Fischer were clearly much closer now, it still gave hima lift to get one over the Bavarian. Peters stayed with Fischer for someminutes giving Manfred the opportunity to absorb what he was seeing. It wasquite a sight.

Manfred’s battalion was at the head of a fearsome phalanx  ofdestructive intent. Around thirty heavy panzers led while a column of talllorries, protected on their flanks by light tanks and armoured cars, followedbehind. They were heading in a south west direction towards Bir el Gubi to makecontact with the Italians.

After a few minutes Manfred reluctantly had to surrender hisposition in the cupola to Lieutenant Peters. Manfred returned to his positionin the turret and glanced at Fischer. The Bavarian had a rueful grin on hisface. Peters began to explain more of the plan on the tank radio.

‘We’re marching to retake the Sidi Rezegh airfield from theallies. In this we will be helped by the Ariete and Triestedivisions of the Italian Motorised Corps. We will advance north with them.’

Peters broke off for a moment to demonstrate using his hands whatwould happen. Putting his left palm flat he clenched his right hand into afist.

 ‘We are the hammer. To the north of the airfield is the lightinfantry and Battlegroup Knabe. They are the anvil. In the middle are the Alliesoccupying Sidi Rezegh. We will strike and destroy them.’

Peters smacked his fist against his palm. It was abundantly clearthat intense fighting lay ahead for all of them. At that moment, though, theprospect held no fear for Manfred. Instead, he felt emboldened by his timesitting outside the turret looking at one half of the force that would take onthe Allies in the late afternoon.

Following his outline of the plan, Peters returned to his positionin the cupola. Manfred felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Werner.

‘What do you think?’

Manfred wasn’t sure what the right answer was to the grizzledveteran. He felt the corporal’s eyes boring into his mind. He answeredtruthfully, ‘I don’t know. I’ll just keep loading until you tell me to stop.’

Werner laughed and clapped him on the back.

‘You’ll do.’

-

It was eight o’clock in the morning when the radio crackled.Manfred immediately put his eyes to the periscope. Directly ahead, in the leadtank, was the battalion commander Major Fenski. In front of Fenski, crestingthe brow of a hill were a couple of Axis light armoured reconnaissance vehiclesdriving at high speed towards the column. They drew up to Fenski’s tank.

Fenski halted the column and jumped out to consult with theofficer from the reconnaissance vehicles. The officer was pointing excitedly inthe direction of the rise. Fenski jumped back up into his vehicle and calledfor the march to continue.

‘Get ready,’ said Werner to Manfred. Peters came on the radio witha similar instruction.

Manfred opened the breech and took a cartridge from the rack inreadiness to load. All at once he felt a nervousness that had been singularlymissing all morning. The tank rolled forward. Manfred put his eyes to theperiscope and gazed straight ahead. Just at that moment three armoured scoutcars appeared. The flags on the antennae were British. Werner spoke first.There was wry amusement in his voice.

‘I wonder what they’re thinking now?’

Manfred smiled. Imagine driving over the crest of a hill only tobe confronted by the greatest fighting machine on the planet? He wondered whatthe conversation would be among the British when they saw what they saw.

Peters shouted into his microphone, ‘Scout cars, twelve