by Jack Murray
Manfred glanced down at the driver, Lang. He was aware that the tank had been zig-zagging for a while now. Lang was drenched in sweat and steering like a racing driver. Manfred felt a shockwave as one explosion rocked the side of the tank. Shards of metal sang against the tank like malevolent hailstones.
Werner laughed nervously.
‘Bit close.’
The dull boom of field guns sides beat out a regular rhythm; the crack and whine of shot followed by explosions merged into one for Manfred. However, they were making progress. Manfred saw one Allied two pound anti-tank gun after another destroyed.
‘Hand me some grenades,’ ordered Peters.
Manfred handed up two to the lieutenant. Moments later he popped his head through the cupola and threw one then another before diving back inside to cover.
Then the tank stopped.
‘What’s wrong?’ shouted Peters.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Lang. There was more than a hint of panic in his voice. The engine hadn’t stalled. Something was blocking them on the ground.
Peters glanced down at Manfred.
‘Go outside with Fischer and see what’s wrong.’
After you, thought Manfred as the tank absorbed yet more gunfire.
‘Yes sir,’ said Manfred. In a moment he grabbed a grenade and was ducking down into the hull to boot open the hatch. Fischer removed his headphones and followed Manfred whispering curses or prayers. Manfred couldn’t decide which.
Outside the tank the air was cooler than he’d imagined it would be. Cordite-filled smoke stung both their eyes. The noise of battle had a different quality in the open air. It felt fresh and real in a way that was different when experienced from the interior of the tank. Manfred’s head was swimming with adrenaline and fear. He saw Fischer pointing to the front of the tank. They made their way along the ground inch by inch. Bullets threw up dust.
A quick inspection of the front revealed no blockage. Instead they saw the dead bodies of South African strewn like autumn leaves. German infantry were now mixed in with the South Africans but there was no time to view the fighting. Around at the other side of the tank they saw the problem. An unexploded shell had become wedged in the tracks. The two boys looked at one another.
‘What the hell do we do now? asked Manfred.
‘Do you really want to know?’
‘No,’ replied Manfred moving towards the shell. They both examined it. It was wedged between the wheel and the track. ‘If Lang were to reverse half a metre then one of us could pull it out.’
Fischer nodded and looked at Manfred. The same question in both boys’ eyes. Who would direct Lang and who would remove the unexploded bomb? Manfred grinned at the same moment as Fischer. It was madness.
‘Quick, tell Lang to reverse,’ said Manfred. Fischer nodded and disappeared around the back of the tank.
The ground seemed to pulse around Manfred as he waited for the tank to move. Oddly, despite the roar of battle, he could hear Fischer yelling into the tank. Seconds later the tank wheels began to crank. Bit by bit they rolled backwards. Bone-melting fear gripped Manfred as he reached forward in anticipation of the moment the shell was loosened.
All of sudden the tank backed up a quarter of a metre. Manfred reached into the tracks, hauled out the shell and threw it over his shoulder. He watched it fall ten feet away. It was only then he realised he was still holding his breath.
Fischer appeared at this moment. Manfred nodded to him. Then he saw Fischer’s face contort in agony. He fell forward onto the ground. Manfred ducked down and grabbed the grenade he’d taken with him. Thirty yards behind Fischer he saw a number of South African infantry. The grenade was launched directly at them. As it exploded, Manfred was on his feet immediately and running to Fischer. He rolled Fischer over and saw that he was alive but in agony from a shoulder wound.
‘Sorry, my friend,’ said Manfred positioning himself behind Fischer. He cupped his arms underneath Fischer’s armpits and began to drag him to the hatch. Fischer’s face was ashen with pain. At the hatch, Manfred felt a couple of arms reach out to help him pull his stricken comrade back into the tank.
Just then Manfred felt a stinging pain in his calf as hot metal shards ripped through his trousers and brushed against his leg. However, within seconds he was inside the tank and Lang was pulling the hatch door closed.
‘I’m fine,’ said Fischer who looked anything but. Manfred nodded and resumed his position near Werner.
‘Move,’ shouted Peters.
The tank crunched forward again. Peters nodded down to Manfred and then turned back towards the battle.
‘When you’re ready,’ said Werner.
Manfred reached towards the stack of shells; his moment of heroism forgotten. Survival was now the only thing on his mind. On all their minds.
‘Allied tanks to the left,’ shouted Peters. He glanced down at Fischer who was slowly rising to resume his position on the wireless. Manfred glanced through the periscope saw around twenty Crusader tanks appearing in their flank. By now Fischer had his earphones back on.
‘Tell artillery to get those tanks otherwise Zintel’s infantry will get wiped out,’ shouted Peters.
Manfred stared ahead at the South African supply trucks scattering. They were now in the middle of the South African box and squeezing the Allies as the original plan had set out. But at what cost? Manfred’s brief exposure to the battle outside had revealed dozens of dead Germans and destroyed Panzer tanks.
‘Traverse left,’ ordered Peters.
Soon the Crusader tanks were in their sights. So were some South African infantry. They were running directly for the tank. Manfred glanced down at Fischer. His left arm was hanging limply to one side.
Manfred jumped over to Fischer’s position and grabbed the machine gun. Soon it was chattering deadly bursts to discourage any ideas of attacking the tank directly. Werner, meanwhile, had taken to loading and firing the gun himself. More South African infantry appeared. Manfred took aim, finger tightening on the trigger.
Nothing.
‘It’s jammed,’ exclaimed Manfred, looking at Fischer in bewilderment. Without thinking, Manfred cleared the chamber and tried firing again. A burst of rounds tore up dust around the advancing soldiers sending them scattering.
The radio crackled and Fischer put the palm of his hand over the earphone.
‘Enemy tanks are fleeing,’ said Fischer, grimacing as he spoke.
Werner confirmed this with a few choice words of farewell to the Crusaders that raised a laugh inside the tank.
Just then an explosion rocked the front of the tank. All at once the tank stopped dead in its tracks and smoke began to fill the tank. There was no need to give an order. Manfred was already kicking the hatch open. He and Lang helped Fischer out from the hatch. Above them, Manfred sensed Peters and Werner escaping from the turret.
Each taking an arm, Manfred and Land carried and dragged Fischer towards a crater. Manfred ducked just as the tank exploded. Of Peters and Werner’s whereabouts he had no idea. Black smoke wafted around the tank. The popping of shells and bullets suggested another explosion was imminent.
Fischer grimaced a smile in Manfred’s direction.
‘I suppose we’re even now.’
‘No, my friend, this is the second time I’ve rescued you.’
Earth spat up in front of them. Machine gun fire shredded the air. Manfred and Lang kept their heads down.
‘We can’t stay here,’ said Lang jerking his head down as an explosion rocked the remnants of their tank. Manfred resisted the urge to thank him for pointing out the obvious. He popped his head up over the dugout and looked around. Then something caught his eye.
‘What the hell is that?’ said Manfred staring ahead at an extraordinary sight. German infantry were surrounding a South African Dressing Station like a halo. Wounded men were being treated by doctors in the middle of the mayhem. Lang glanced at Manfred and shrugged.
‘We should take Fischer ther
e,’ said Manfred. Lang looked askance at Manfred. It would require them to carry Fischer at least forty yards across the pandemonium they were witnessing.
‘Where?’ said Fischer, groggily aware something was afoot. There was no answer from his crew mates. Instead, the two men hoisted him up to the sound of his groans and marched him across ground pitted by craters, destroyed guns, debris and dead bodies.
A strange dance took place as they navigated their way through the hellish scene around them. At one point a South African soldier raced past them, then another. Neither took any notice of the three Germans. Manfred glanced to his right and saw a Panzer tank moving forward. It stopped firing for a moment. Manfred was vaguely aware that the South Africans were benefitting from the cover they were providing.
As they neared the Dressing Station it became noticeable that the devastation was less marked than just a few yards outside the perimeter of the Station. A German infantry soldier nodded to Manfred as he and Lang carried Fischer through the line of soldiers into the medical zone.
Fischer was now dimly aware of where they had taken him. All he could think to say was, ‘Is this a dream?’
Manfred and Lang gently lowered Fischer to the ground alongside a South African soldier. As they did so a doctor was passing them. A South African doctor.
‘Doctor,’ called out Manfred. The doctor stopped and looked at him. Manfred pointed down to Fischer. ‘My friend. His shoulder.’ He was speaking in English to the doctor.
The doctor crouched down and quickly scanned Fischer.
‘Any other wounds?’
Fischer shook his head and grimaced.
‘No, doctor.’
The doctor rose. He was in his forties. Sadness and fatigue haunted his features. It had been a long day for him, and it was only just beginning. He addressed Manfred in English.
‘He’s not critical. Get him some bandages. You’ll have to bandage him. See that man over there.’
Manfred looked towards a man standing beside a supply tent. A German soldier was standing with him. Manfred glanced at the doctor and nodded and said ‘Thanks’. Then he jogged over to the tent.
‘Bandages. Please.’
The South African handed Manfred a small roll.
‘Thank you,’ said Manfred. With a nod to the soldier Manfred turned to run back to Fischer and Lang. He stopped momentarily to allow a South African soldier and a German soldier past. They were carrying a bloodied South African with an arm that looked like it would not survive the hour.
Manfred looked at them pass and saw the South African doctor run towards the new arrival. He tried to take in the extraordinary scene before his eyes. Dozens of wounded men lay on the ground. Around them were a handful of doctors and a stream of soldiers carrying other injured comrades. Outside the perimeter of the Dressing Station the devastation generating these horrifying injuries continued unabated.
Seconds later Manfred crouched down and, with Lang’s help, gently removed Fischer’s shirt and cleaned the wound as best they could. Lang examined the wound front and back. There was an exit through his shoulder blade. He gave Fischer some good news.
‘I think the bullet passed through.’
‘Oh good I can re-join the fight then?’ said Fischer before grimacing as Lang tightened the bandage. He added after this, ‘Thanks.’ The tone was sarcastic.
‘You’re welcome,’ replied Lang with a chuckle. His laughter sounded strange amongst the groans, the gun fire and the gut-wrenching explosions happening less than fifty yards away from this extraordinary zone of safety.
‘We can’t stay here,’ said Manfred. The former accountant, Lang, was thinking exactly the opposite. His eyes posed a question to Manfred.
Fischer answered for him, ‘You need to help the others.’ Manfred looked down at Fischer. He was about to speak when Fischer smiled and said, ‘Go. I’ll be all right here.’
The two men rose and bid a brief farewell to Fischer. They started back towards the area through which they’d arrived. More soldiers were streaming in from both sides. Manfred marvelled at the sight of two German stretcher bearers carrying a South African. It was madness. Manfred spun around as he walked trying to take in what he was witnessing.
They arrived at the inner edge of the Dressing Station. A couple of German Infantrymen stood aside to let them pass. In front of them they saw the battle raging. The German army had now occupied the South African position. Dead bodies lay everywhere. Twisted metal that once had been anti-tank guns dotted the area like grotesque sculptures. Amongst all of this, noticed Manfred, were dozens of destroyed German tanks. If this was victory, then it had come at a terrible cost.
If it was victory.
The battle had not finished. Artillery fire was still landing all around the Dressing Station. The two men glanced backwards at the haven they were leaving. Then Lang looked up nervously to Manfred and raised one eyebrow.
‘After you, then.’
The End
Postscript
Operation Crusader began on November 17th and ended on 30th December 1941 in a victory for the Allies. The series of battles represents one of the most complex campaigns not just in World War II but in the history of warfare. It was the first battle fought by the Desert Rats and the first defeat of Erwin Rommel’s Afrika Korps.
At the centre of the campaign were the various battles to occupy the strategically important Sidi Rezegh airfield. The area around the airfield was to witness not one but two extraordinary tank charges more reminiscent of 19th century cavalry than modern day warfare.
The first tank charge was on 21st November 1941 involving the 6th Royal Tank Regiment. During this action the following were killed, wounded or missing:- Lieutenant Colonel M D B Lister, commanding officer, Major G M Warren, 2nd in command, Capt J R Cuttwell, Adjutant, Lt E Delson, Intelligence officer, 2/Lt T R Price, HQ Troop commander, Major F C K M Laing, MC. commanding C Sqn, Major F Miller, commanding B Sqn. By the end of the day, the 6th RTR was all but destroyed.
Two days later, on Totensonntag (Day of the Dead), the Germans wiped out the 5th South African Brigade (3,394 killed or captured) with an extraordinary tank charge. Victory came at great cost to the Germans. Around 70 tanks were lost and the head of the 1st Battalion 8th Panzer regiment Major G Fenski as well numerous officers from the 2nd 8th Panzer Battalion as well as officers and men from the 115th Infantry were killed in action.
Amidst the devastation of Totensonntag, the main South African Dressing station fell to the Germans. It is a matter of historical fact that the German Infantry guarded the station and allowed wounded men to be treated. Over the two hours that the Dressing Station was in the front line of the conflict, only two men were wounded inside the zone. No one believes that this was anything other than by accident.
Research Notes
I have mentioned a number of real-life individuals and events in this novel. Although the events described in the novel are matters of historical fact, conversations and the views attributed to the real life individuals are my own invention.
My intention, in the following section, is to explain a little more about their connection to this period and this story.
Any other information on the fate of the people mentioned below would be welcome.
ALLIED ARMY
Lieutenant-Colonel M D B Lister
Lt Col Lister served with the Kings Royal Rifles in WWI as a lieutenant. He became a captain in the Royal Tank Corps in 1930. Just prior to Crusader he was promoted to Acting Lieutenant-Colonel. He was captured following the action on 21st November 1941. He was a prisoner for the remainder of the war.
Major-General J C Campbell
Jock Campbell served with the Royal Horse Artillery. A figure more akin to Sir Francis Drake than modern army commanders, he died in 1942 following a car accident in North Africa. His feats during the defence of Sidi Rezegh are worth a book in their own right. He was awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross for his bravery in leading the Allied Army against a
n overwhelming Axis attack at Sidi Rezegh.
Major G M Warren
Major Warren, second-in command to Lister, was wounded and captured following the action on 21st November 1941. He died in 1942 as a prisoner of war.
Major J F Miller
Major Miller was wounded and captured following the action on 21st November 1941. He was a prisoner for the remainder of the war.
Captain J R Cruttwell
Captain Cruttwell was wounded and captured following the action on 21st November 1941. He was a prisoner for the remainder of the war.
Captain A H Crickmay
Captain Crickmay survived the war and was promoted to Major in 1951 in the Royal Armoured Corps
Captain R Ainsley
Captain Ainsley was killed in action on 24th November 1941.
AXIS ARMY
General Ludwig Cruwell
Cruwell became the commander of the Afrika Korps reporting to Rommel in July 1941. He was responsible for the attack on Totenssontag which had such a devastating impact on the Panzer division. He was taken prisoner in 1943 and survived the war.
General Hans Cramer
General Cramer led the 15th Panzer division during the Crusader action. He was taken prisoner in 1943 but ultimately exchanged in 1944 for Allied prisoners. As a former POW he was suspected of involvement in the 20th July plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler and held under house arrest.
