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  Gordy, who had the best view shouted, "Their infantry are attacking!"

  His rifle barked as quickly as he could fire it. Then the machine gun in the tank stopped; perhaps it had jammed or run out of ammunition. Sergeant Latimer shouted, "Open fire!"

  Tired of being targets every weapon was fired by someone who wanted to hit back. I levelled my Luger and fired at each enemy in turn. One of them took two bullets to stop. Then they found the mortar shells which had been buried properly. A couple went off.

  "Gordy! Hit the shells!"

  Soon, it was as though we had a mortar firing as Gordy hit all the shells which the enemy had avoided. They began to pull back. Polly rolled over the sandbags and followed the retreating soldiers. He sprinted to the tank and threw a grenade into the driver's side. Instead of running away he dropped to the ground next to the tank. A sheet of flame leapt out. The driver managed to get half out before Gordy put a bullet in him. Polly raced back and threw himself over the ammunition boxes.

  "Well done! That was foolish but brave."

  When Gordy reported that the enemy had retreated to the high ground to lick their wounds we left our holes and searched the dead for weapons and ammunition. When the tea came round and the last of the food we devoured them like wild animals. Sergeant Latimer said, "That is the last of the food. The tank managed to hit the store tent. We have water for two more days."

  "Ammo?"

  "If they come again tonight then we will have five rounds per man tomorrow. We will be forced to use the captured weapons and ammunition and that won't last long. We are down to twenty or so grenades."

  I nodded to the pile we had collected, "We got some from the Germans."

  "But they won't last."

  "Nil desperandum eh Graham?"

  "Oh we won’t surrender; it isn't in our nature but I reckon we will either be in the bag or dead by this time tomorrow."

  As it became dark Gordy came to join the rest of us close to the last to Vickers. Our three wounded comrades also joined us. As Bill said there was little point being in the tent. There was more chance of being killed there than in the line of fire. We gave them hand guns. The Italian and Germans had had a number of them. I sharpened my dagger too. It might come down to that. The German rifle I was using did not have the same ammunition as the Luger. It meant I just had five bullet clips. each with just five bullets, to use. I had spent the quiet time cleaning it and the bolt worked well.

  Ken lit a cigarette and lay back. He using the tin helmet he had found as a pillow of sorts. "Rum sort of do, Sarge. I never thought I'd end up dying in a God forsaken hole like this. I mean what has this got to go with my mam and dad in England? They are the reason I am fighting."

  "I think it is more complicated than that. The Italians wanted an Empire. Mussolini thinks he is a Roman Emperor. They wanted the oil in the Middle East and there is Suez. If the Eyeties get hold of that then how do we get the Aussies, New Zealanders and Indians to the battle fields? You said yourself, once, that we are on our own. How long do you think we would last without Commonwealth troops?"

  "I knew there had to be something. This land isn't worth dying for."

  Bill said, "He is right in one respect, Sarge. We should be at home. We can stop Adolf invading England. We need to do that."

  "I agree with you. We are the victims of our own success. We would still have been in England with Major Foster raiding the coast of France but they needed a team with the skills to get behind enemy lines and rescue the General. That turned out to be us. It is just bad luck that we are still here. As soon as this is over we'll be flying back."

  Gordy laughed, "There you are lads! That is what you need. We should have it issued every morning with our tea."

  Polly asked, "What's that?"

  "A dose of Sergeant Harsker's optimism. We will get out because the Sergeant believes we will and you know what? I believe him too. You don't stop fighting until you can't fight any more. The Sergeant's mate, Sergeant Greeley said it, 'The only good German is a dead German.' He was right too."

  I smiled. They would fight and they would fight hard.

  Late in the afternoon we heard trucks in the distance. As they were from the west we knew that it was reinforcements. I listened carefully but I didn't hear tanks. That was a good thing. When night came it was as though someone had switched out a light.

  Sergeant Latimer came over. He took me to one side. "I have everyone who can hold a gun armed and ready. We have a couple of flares left. If we hear anything I will send them up. I want you and your lads to hold this gap between the Vickers. We have a Bren on each flank. They will try to knock out the Vickers first."

  I nodded, "And when we have run out of ammo?"

  He shrugged, "I don't know. Our lads will fight until they are captured but I suspect you and your boys could escape across the desert."

  "We could but we won't. What do you take us for? We don’t leave our mates in the lurch. What I will say is that if they overrun us then unless you see our bodies we'll be out there." I pointed to the high ground. "And we have our knives. If you are captured then don't give up. We won't."

  He shook my hand. "Never doubted it for a moment. When this is over if you are ever up in the North East look me up. I live in Northallerton."

  "I will Sarge and it has been an honour."

  Chapter 19

  Polly said, "Sarge, I can hear something."

  It was midnight and I was beginning to think that they would not come. Polly was right. I could hear them too. The enemy did not wear rubber soled boots as we did. They disturbed stones and sent them skittering across the stony desert floor.

  I hissed, "Stand to! You lads on the Vickers ready?"

  "Yes Sarge."

  This was the hard part. We had crossed this ground going the other way and I could picture them. They had a rough idea of our position but we had no idea of their strength or their route. Suddenly, to our right, there was an explosion and a scream. The Bren gun chattered.

  Ken chuckled, "They found the booby traps."

  "Keep your heads down."

  I buried my face in the sand. Above us the sky was lit by the flare. If we had looked then we would have lost any chance of seeing the enemy well. It burned brightest at first.

  After four or five seconds I said, "Right! Pick your targets. Gordy, officers and sergeants first."

  I levelled the rifle and squeezed off a shot at the nearest man. He was two hundred yards away. He spun around clutching his shoulder. The gun pulled to the right. I adjusted my aim and the second man fell backwards hit in the stomach. He was not dead, at least not yet. I moved along the line firing at the men who still tried to walk forwards. Then the two Vickers fired and the whole line dropped to the ground.

  I heard a series of crumps. A few seconds later the ground behind us erupted as the mortar shells landed. It was harder to hit the enemy now. Gordy was having the most success and then the light from the flare faded. The second one flew high into the air. I heard the crack as it was fired and I covered my eyes once more. When I opened my eyes I aimed at the German who had raised his head to shout something to the man behind. The bullet smacked into his head and he fell still. The Germans and the Italians had no trenches in which to hide. While the light held we had the advantage.

  Then the mortar shells began to draw closer to us. One landed just forty yards from us and I felt the concussion as it hit. I counted on the fact that the nearer they came to our lines the more likely it was that they would stop firing. The fading flare made it seem like a rapid sunset and then it was pitch dark once more.

  "They will come hard. Hold your fire until they are closer. Don't waste bullets."

  One wag on the other side of the Vickers said, "It would be nice to have a few bullets to waste."

  Sergeant Latimer shouted, from the dark, "Fix bayonets!"

  It would be hand to hand before long.

  We had to wait until we saw the patches of white that would be their faces.
Gordy had the advantage of his telescopic sight and he fired. The falling German and his cry gave us an indication of where they were. The two Vickers lit up the night with their fire. I looked down my barrel and saw a face less than twenty yards away. I fired and missed. I loaded another bullet and, lowering my aim fired again. I hit him less than ten yards away. I worked the bolt as fast as I could. When it clicked empty I loaded my third magazine. I was half way through my ammunition. The Vickers on my left went silent.

  "No ammo left Sarge."

  "Then use grenades and your rifles."

  I kept firing and changed clips. "Grenades!"

  We all fell to the floor as the two gunners threw their grenades. I heard the explosions and lifted my head in time to see the Corporal of the machine gun being bayoneted by a German. I lifted my rifle and fired twice from the hip. I was so close that he was thrown back and crashed into another German. Ken shot him.

  Connor shouted, "Grenade!"

  This time I just lowered my head and when I heard the explosion lifted my head and was firing straight away. I realised that the second Vickers' gunner was silent. I looked into the pit. He had been shot in the head.

  "Lads, into the machine gun pit!"

  I rolled in and pushed the now useless weapon over the side. It was another obstacle for the enemy. We had our own little fort. With sandbags all around us, we would defend it to the end. I saw that the two gunners still had a couple of grenades. I gave one to Polly. "Grenades!"

  I pulled the pin and let the lever spring away. I counted to two and threw it. I fired three shots with my Luger in case any Germans were advancing. Then I ducked down. The grenades would explode in the air. As soon as the grenades had gone off I rose and fired my rifle. When I put in the last clip I heard Curtis and Connor say. "Out of ammo!"

  I gave Ken my rifle and drew my Luger. There were faces advancing towards us and the last Vickers had, ominously, gone silent. I fired at point blank range and an Italian's head disappeared in an explosion of blood and brains. A bayonet came towards my stomach. I grabbed the red hot barrel in my left hand and pulled. We both tumbled backwards out of the machine gun pit. As he fell on me I jammed the pistol into his side and pulled the trigger. I could smell burning from his jacket and he was thrown from me. As I jumped to my feet two Germans ran at me with bayonets levelled. I knelt and fired at one and then switched to the other. He pulled back the bayonet to end my life and my bullet struck him under the chin and he was thrown backwards.

  I rolled away and loaded another magazine. I had one full magazine left. In front of me was an explosion as a grenade was thrown at the machine gun pit. It was silent within. I ran towards it, "Gordy! Ken!" I was greeted by silence. I stood on the top of the sandbags which had been knocked down. Oblivious to the bullets which zipped around me I stood on the sand bags and emptied the pistol into every face I saw. When it clicked empty I took out my last grenade and released the pin. I counted to four and then threw it. I dived into the sandbags. I heard the shrapnel whizzing over my head and then I heard the screams of the Germans and Italians that it struck.

  I felt dizzy from the fall but I forced myself to load my last magazine. I might be the last one of my men left alive but they would not get me without a fight. I raised my head and suddenly realised that there was no one left in front of me. For the first time no one was trying to kill me. I heard a moan from beneath me. One of them was still alive. I lifted a sandbag and heard Gordy say, "Who has their knee in my back?"

  I stood and held out my hand and helped him to his feet. He had a bad cut on the side of his head but he was alive. If he had survived then the others might too. "Quick let's get the others out."

  We threw the fallen sandbags to the other side of the pit. I saw a head move. It was Ken Curtis. Gordy and I pulled him up. He screamed in pain. My hand was covered in blood. "Medic! Be gentle with him Gordy he is wounded." I put my hands under his armpits and, with Gordy at his feet we lifted him out.

  A Medical Orderly, bleeding himself, ran up. "Bloody hell Sarge, we thought you were all dead."

  "See to him. We will check the others."

  We found another three left alive. The new ones, George and Harry had been knocked unconscious and Polly had a wounded shoulder but Bill Becket, our own doctor, was dead. It had been quick. His head had been taken by a barrage of bullets during that last frenzied attack. John Connor still clutched the bayonet in his stomach. My men had been faithful unto death.

  "Tanks!" Polly's ears were as good as ever.

  After all the sacrifice it seemed that we would now be defeated by mechanical beasts. We had nothing left with which to fight. I sank to the ground in resignation and then I listened. The sound was not coming from the west but the north. Had we been surrounded? Then I heard from the right the cheers that told me they were British tanks. Relief had come. My joy was short lived. I looked down and saw the two dead Commandos. The relief had arrived half an hour too late for them.

  I went to Ken. "How is he?"

  "He'll live. The bullet went clean through. It is just muscle damage." He shrugged, "I have done all that I can and the Doc is dead. Let's hope that they have doctors with this relief column." He moved over to Poulson.

  I took my canteen and emptied it. As Wellington once put it, it had been a near run thing. The tanks rumbled west followed by cheerful troops. Perhaps they wondered why we did not cheer. We wanted to; we had been relieved but we were too close to death for such luxuries. As dawn broke we heard the sound of lorries heading towards us. I surveyed the slaughter that had been the centre of our line. In places the enemy were piled three deep. My own men were the only survivors in the centre section of the battlefield. I wondered how the others had fared.

  Graham Latimer limped over to me, his arm in a sling and limping. He saw the blanket covered bodies, "Your lads did it. They held. I knew they would. The lorries are for us. We are being evacuated to Torbruk. We will be sent back to Cairo for a rest and a refit. What about you?"

  "I have no idea. I hope home. We were not trained for this desert war. We came here to do a job. We have done it."

  "What do you normally do?"

  "We raid. We are in and out before anyone knows. Much easier than this."

  He shook his head and laughed, "I don't believe that for a moment."

  The dead were buried close to where they fell. I gathered the papers from my dead soldiers and their identity disks. I had quite a collection. Captain Troughton spoke over all; Howards and Commandos. They had died as brothers in arms and they would lie together until the last trumpet sounded. He shook my hand. "Thank you for dropping in when you did, Sergeant. I am not certain we would have survived had you not. I have mentioned the courage of you and your men in my despatches."

  "That's kind of you, sir. We were just fighting to survive and I am happy that we did."

  I had Gordy, who seemed to be indestructible, collect the Bergens and the Tommy guns. I was in no doubt that, back in Blighty, both would be in short supply. My four wounded men were deemed fit enough to travel in the lorry with us rather than the ambulances for the more seriously wounded. We trundled our way north to Torbruk. I was silent. Only Gordy filled the air with inane chatter and crude jokes. Wherever we went he seemed to acquire new ones. Surprisingly the normality of Gordy and his jokes made us all feel better. It was a sign that, no matter what befell us, we were of the same mind. We had been forged in battle as a single weapon. It took us until late afternoon to reach our destination.

  Torbruk bore the signs of the recent battle. It looked like the German air force had vented most of its anger on the coastal town. The harbour showed the remains of some of the ships they had sunk. A neat little doctor came to look at everyone when we left the lorries. He checked his clipboard and frowned. He saw the bandages on my men and said, "You four go in the ambulance to the hospital to get checked out."

  Ken looked at me, "We are fine, aren't we lads." The other three nodded, "We'll stay with the Sergeant."
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  The doctor shook his head, "I am sorry, gentlemen, but rules are rules."

  He looked to be a fussy little man clutching his lists and his clip board. I was in charge of these men and I would not be dictated to. "And I am sorry doctor but the needs of England are more important than your rules. We have to get these men to England as soon as possible." He hesitated in the face of my confidence. "I am happy to sign a piece of paper saying that I overrode your objections."

  His face brightened, "Well in that case." He scribbled something on the sheet with my men's names and held it for me to sign. I took the pen and scrawled, 'Winston Churchill'. He did not even look at the signature. He turned on his heels and strutted off to the next lorry. It was silly but that childish joke made me feel better or perhaps it was that my men did not want to bunk off at a base hospital. They were Commandos and wanted to fight.

  While the Howards were taken east we were driven directly to the harbour where we waited while a small troop ship disgorged fresh soldiers. There were a few others being evacuated to Malta too but the ship was relatively empty. It had been a liner before it had been commandeered for the war and we had the luxury of a hot shower and better food than we had had for some time. There appeared to be no hurry to leave and, as I watched the sun set in the west I asked one of the sailors why.

  "It isn't safe to leave during the day." He pointed to the destroyer which was next to us, the 'Kelly'. "During the day there are Jerry aeroplanes and at night E-boats and the like. The destroyer can protect us at night. During the day we would be at the bottom of the Med before we got half way."

  When dawn broke we saw the island fortress that was Malta. This was in the days before that brave island had to hold out against unbelievable odds. It was a point of transit between east and west. We stood, with our Bergens on the harbour wall, wondering what was in store for us. A Jeep pulled up. A Corporal got out and saluted, "I am here to take you to the airfield Sarge."

  I looked at the little Jeep. "Well we won't all fit in there will we?"