El Alamein Jack Murray (booksvooks TXT) 📖

battle but something in Manfred’s swift assumption of command bode well. The crater provided some level of protection as only the top of the turret and the gun were visible. The British tide rolled forward.

‘Five hundred metres,’ said Manfred. His voice was calm. He’d left fear behind now. ‘Four hundred metres. Keep an eye out for your second target, Kleff. Three hundred metres.’

Explosions ruptured the ground around them. Then the tank that they were targeting seemed to realise that they were lying in wait. The big seventy-five-millimetre gun was unable to traverse much but the smaller gun in the turret was turning towards them. They were three hundred metres away now.

‘Fire.’

-

Another tank exploded into flames in front of Danny. No one would have survived. The enemy tank’s turret began to turn towards Danny’s tank.

‘Enemy one o’clock, Andrews,’ said Benson. There was urgency in his voice.

Andrews fired off a shot but at another tank.

‘Shaw?’ shouted Benson. They had seconds to react.

‘I can’t,’ responded Danny. The Grant tank was facing the wrong way. Danny knew he didn’t have the lateral flexibility of the turret gun.

The tank surged forward as PG recognised the danger. A puff of white smoke from the Panzer. They heard the shell scream past them. Seconds later they were shielded by the destroyed British tank. The Panzer was fifty yards on the other side. Benson, meanwhile, had been struck dumb by the near miss.

‘Stop, PG’ shouted Danny to PG as the tank threatened to keep going past their shield and leave them open to another round from the Panzer.

‘Traversing right,’ said Andrews in the turret.

‘Archie, they’re expecting us to go forward. We’ll reverse and catch them out.’

‘Good idea, Shaw,’ interjected Benson. ‘Ready, Andrews?’

Andrews nodded.

‘Reverse,’ ordered Benson.

The tank jerked backwards. Andrews leached off a shot with the fifty-seven- millimetre gun.

The AP shell burst through the front of the Panzer. Nobody tried to exit through the hatches. Danny tried not to think of the carnage inside the tank.

‘Bulls eye!’ exclaimed Benson. ‘Edge forward, Wodehouse. We can use this dead tank as cover. Andrews, keep an eye on things to our left.’

Danny’s frustration with the Grant was at its peak now. His position on the right of the tank limited his peripheral vision. He felt exposed. This feeling was now acute as a realisation had dawned on him.

 Benson had frozen. It was Danny who’d shouted the warning to PG. For the first time he doubted his captain’s ability to make the right decisions. He wondered if the others had picked up on this, too. There was no time to discuss it though. Benson was speaking on the intercom.

‘Mark III at ten o’clock. Three zero, zero yards.’

To the right Danny saw another Mark III appear, straight ahead.

‘Twelve o’clock, sir, too,’ said Danny, lining up his shot. Andrews fired seconds later. A shell exploded nearby, rocking the tank. Danny’s head hit the side of the tank hard. For a second he was disoriented then he pressed the fire button. Benson and Andrews shouted in unison as they saw the tank on their left explode.

Danny’s shot hit the tracks of the tank ahead of him. Ominously the turret was turning in their direction.

‘HE. Hurry,’ shouted Danny to McLeish.

The young Scot loaded the cartridge within a few seconds. Danny had already made a minor adjustment. Through his telescopic view he saw that the gun of the enemy tank was now aimed at them. One or two of the crew were already abandoning the tank. Danny hit the fire button. Seconds later the turret of the enemy tank leapt twenty feet into the air.

There was no time to celebrate surviving their close call. The tank was rocked by a loud crash. Danny flinched. When he opened his eyes, he realised he was covered in blood.

‘What the hell was that?’ shouted Benson, frantically. ‘Wodehouse, move. Enemy tank approaching three zero, zero yards, four o’clock.’

The tank did not move.

‘Wodehouse,’ shouted Benson, ducking inside. ‘Why the hell aren’t we moving?’

There was smoke inside the tank. Danny’s eyes cleared and he glanced down to his left and saw why there had been no reply from the driver. An armour piercing shell had hit them from the front side of the hull. It took a second for Danny to take in the scene a few feet in front of him.

PG and Sid Gregson were dead.

-

‘We’ll have to move,’ said Manfred.

‘Which way?’ asked Jentz. A reasonable question. They had destroyed nearly half a dozen tanks at least but the enemy kept coming.

Manfred paused a second and then replied, ‘I think they’re shifting direction, trying to move out of range. My God, there are still so many of them. We need to advance.’

Jentz duly obliged and the tank, after a few false starts, finally climbed out from the crater. It was welcomed by a shell bouncing off the front armour. It occurred to Manfred that had they waited a minute longer, the shell might have caught him.

‘They’re probing further south,’ said Colonel Teege over the radio. ‘Report to me who is in pursuit.’

Manfred was shocked by how many of the regiment’s tanks had been destroyed now. They had lost at least nineteen from his own battalion. So many familiar names gone.  He hoped that his comrades had been able to evacuate their tanks. He feared the worst and it was not yet midday. An afternoon of fighting lay ahead. He felt an emptiness inside. Who would be left when the day’s fighting was over?

Then he felt a swell of anger. He wanted to avenge the death of the lieutenant. He wanted to make the enemy pay. Finally, it was his turn to report.

‘It’s Brehme, sir. 1st Battalion, second company. Lieutenant Basler has fallen, sir.’

This was greeted by a long silence. Then they heard an audible sigh before Teege spoke again, ‘Very well, Brehme. You’re in command of the tank now. Fall in with the advance.’

‘Yes, sir.’

They set off in pursuit of the Allied tanks. The signs of battle were everywhere. Dozens of tanks littered