The Levant Trilogy by Olivia Manning

Author:Olivia Manning [Manning, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, War & Military
ISBN: 9781780225821
Google: wTiIAeGa2MgC
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2013-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

Eight

On the fourth day of battle, relays of exhausted men came into the camp to be replaced by reserve troops. These men, most of them from tanks, had been lucky to get three hours sleep in a night and Simon, when he heard this, felt ashamed of his own nervous fatigue. Unable to excuse himself, he told himself that he would have done better to remain under fire and become conditioned to it. The rest periods between his sorties into action, and the fact he was liable to be wakened at any hour of the night, had demoralized him.

He had little or no idea what had been gained by the fighting and Fitzwilliams, though he questioned the returning men, could not tell him much. The general belief was- that in the northern sector British armour had driven a wedge into the German defences but no sooner had this news gone round, than the commander in the sector radioed to say that his whole brigade was ringed by enemy anti-tank guns.

Fitzwilliams, like the officers Simon had approached on the road, was critical of the strategy of the battle: 'Bad show, I call it. Suppose the brass hats know what they're doing, but I've never heard of tanks being sent into a breach. Could lose the whole damn lot,'

For a while it seemed that, if not lost, the battle was petering out. There were a couple of empty days for Simon who had become used to action and felt the need for excitement. He hung around the command vehicle in a state of restless boredom; then a fresh offensive began. Given a signal to deliver, he ran gleefully to the jeep shouting, 'Come on, Crosbie, wake up. This is the life.' Crosbie, baffled as usual by Simon's moods, grunted and muttered,' Sir.'

At the end of October, the division to which Simon belonged was withdrawn from the line. The tank crews, decimated by continuous fighting, were ordered back to reserve positions and Simon was assigned a new sector. He had to report to a coastal area where a fresh division was being prepared for an attack.

When he set out, November was beginning with dramatic splendour. The sky, that had dazzled the sight with its brazen emptiness, was filling with immense cumulous clouds. They were rising out of the sea and stretching, as though each was trying to over-top the other, until by mid-day they had reached the zenith. They were of different colours: one was a dark purple, its neighbour, swelling up behind, was azure, while on either side of them billowing curves of wool white, catching the sun on outer rims, gleamed like mother-of-pearl.

Simon, amazed by this display, said to Crosbie, 'What do you make of it?'

Raising his eyes without lifting his head, Crosbie muttered, 'Looks like trouble to me.'

The dark cloud grew until it dominated the sky. The wind strengthened in the unusual gloom and the sand lifted, but the storm did not break until the men were in sight of the camp.

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