El Alamein Jack Murray (booksvooks TXT) 📖

him strength. Somehow, he freed himself from the crushed metal, scraping his leg as he did so and fell onto the floor of the tank. It was awash with blood. He pulled himself forward towards the escape hatch.

-

Manfred heard more of the ammunition explode. He crawled away from the tank and fell into an abandoned slit trench. The screams from the other tank were ripping through his head like hot shrapnel. He climbed to his feet and staggered over towards the British tank. The tank he’d destroyed.

He could see the twisted metal around the hole that the shell had made. There could be no doubt of the destruction inside. Yet someone had lived; to be more accurate, someone was dying. Dying in a manner that was shocking and terrifying.

Manfred stopped and listened for a second then he limped around to the side of the tank. He stared at the hatch. The last thing he wanted to do was open it. This was war; he’d done what they had done to him. Nothing more, nothing less. It was his duty to kill the enemy. He had done so before. Not like Kiel mowing down defenceless men evacuating a tank. He’d killed them when they’d been trying to kill him. It was barbaric but fair. There was no reason why he should pull open the hatch. None whatsoever. The men inside had killed his crewmates.

A louder scream scythed through the wall of the tank and into Manfred’s mind.

He pulled open the hatch.

The last thing he needed to see was the result of his own handiwork. He knew that the sight inside the tank would stay with him night and day; a nightmare to accompany him for the rest of his life.

The hatch door came away easily just as the screaming reached a crescendo and then stopped. Smoke wafted into his face and blinded him for a moment. Then he saw the lumps of flesh strewn around the interior like rags in a sewing basket. He turned away from the tank, bent over and threw up.

-

The pain was excruciating. Danny felt as if he would pass out. He shut his eyes. Then the blackness became red. There was sunlight. He opened his eyes and squinted. It took a few moments for him to focus. He could hear someone outside although his ears were still ringing from the shell.

A face appeared at the hatch. He could barely see the features. Soon the face became more distinct. Danny pulled himself closer to the hatch. Daggers of pain raced up though his leg. He grimaced and whispered one word.

‘Help.’

The young man at the hatch frowned. His face was covered in blood and grime. The hair was blonde. Danny realised this was a German soldier. Tears of pain welled up in his eyes. He struggled forward to get a better look. To his right he could hear the sound of popping. The bullets were beginning to burn. Soon they would catch fire and that would set off a chain reaction with the remaining shells that would result in an explosion.

Danny met the eyes of the young soldier. The fire near the engine was growing stronger now. There was nothing Danny could say now. He wasn’t going to beg. Nor was he just going to stay there. He inched forward. The heat inside the tank was growing more intense by the second. His blackened hands were smoking.

Manfred looked at the young man. He couldn’t have been any older than him. His dark hair was matted with blood and sweat and other things that he couldn’t bring himself to think about. He was badly injured. And the tank was beginning to brew up. It was a miracle that it hadn’t gone up already.

Manfred wanted to say something, but no sound came. He wanted to tell the young man he couldn’t help him. His arms fell by his side. His hand touched the knife he’d taken all those months ago. He took it out of its sheath and stared at it.

He looked back to the young man. The heat coming from the tank was burning his face. Manfred stepped back from the hatch. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the young man crawling towards him. Manfred glanced back at him for a moment. You’re going to die anyway, he thought.

Danny watched the young soldier staring mutely at him. He wasn’t going to help him, that was clear. Pop, pop, pop went the ammunition. The fire was crackling louder now. He watched as the soldier stepped back from the hatch. Then…

He walked away.

Danny felt like screaming. But he would not do that. He couldn’t let the German hear his agony, his terror. Death was preferable. And it was imminent. The fire was spreading, the heat; unendurable.

Outside the tank he heard a noise. It was difficult to discern what. Something was striking against metal. Moments later he heard a fizz like the sound water makes when it is thrown onto a frying pan. He heard water splashing against metal. Smoke filled the hull and Danny began to cough. But the cracking of flames licking towards the ammunition had stopped.

Outside the tank, Manfred lifted the last jerrican and set it down over the engine. He struck the can with his sgian-dubh. Its sharp metal ripped through the thin walls of the jerrican and the water fell into the engine, evaporating immediately but also extinguishing the flame.

Somewhere in the distance he heard the rumble of battle. He stepped back from the tank. The fire seemed to be out. His leg was hurting like hell. Very slowly he walked away from the tank and looked around him. He was alone amidst a scene of shocking brutality. All around him, as far as he could see, were destroyed blackened, red-glowing tanks and trucks. The stench of death lay thick in the air.

He limped back towards his own tank. The hatch had blown open. Forcing himself to look inside, he confirmed that no one