Tobruk (The Second World War Series Book 3) by Minor Stuart

Author:Minor, Stuart [Minor, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen.

Jack lay on the hard ground, the wind blowing the sand and dust against his face as he watched the sun climb slowly above the distant horizon, the sky a slate grey as it lay caught between night and day, the dawn light casting small shadows from the scrub bushes that dotted the earth around the company, the men lying scattered amongst the rocks, their faces still as they stared out across the barren plain ahead.

They had arrived at the start line an hour before and Jack could feel his legs growing numb as he lay on the cold soil. He rolled onto his side and began to rub his cramped muscles, working life back into his flesh. The rum and tea he had drunk before leaving the assembly area had long since worn off and he felt tired and anxious, the nerves building with each minute as he lay trapped in his thoughts.

'How far did they say it was to Jerry's outpost?' Reg asked, as he lay on his stomach, his tongue playing over his dry lips as he looked out across the barren land.

'Over a thousand yards,' Jack replied, the words sounding strange in his ears, as if they belonged to someone else.

'Thank God we'll have the tanks with us,' Reg said.

'They should be here by now,' Sid commented, his face hidden as he lay beneath a small scraggly bush, the branches shaking violently in the wind above his head.

'They're probably lost,' Reg said, his voice bitter.

'What do we do if the tanks don't arrive?' Ted asked, his fingers tapping against his rifle.

'We go on without 'em,' Fred replied.

'A thousand yards over ground as flat as a witch's tit,' Reg said, laughing without any humour in his voice as he stared out across the open plain that lay before the company.

'They'll be here, just you watch,' Stan said, as he searched the shadows that lay behind the company for the vehicles.

'What time are we on, Shakespeare?' Fred asked, nudging the fair haired soldier in the arm.

'Six Ack Emma,' Donald replied, his eyes squinting as he looked at the glowing hands of his wristwatch.

'They're cutting it fine,' Sid said, his words sitting heavy amongst the men of the section as they lay waiting, the sound of small arms fire echoing from the right where the sky was marked by flares and tracer.

'Let's hope the buggers fell for the diversion,' Reg said, his eyes staring where the battle was raging in the distance.

No one replied, their faces turning as, from the left, the sound of engines echoed across the barren ground.

'There,' Stan said, pointing to where, in the distance, a line of low, black vehicles were moving across the desert.

'About bloody time,' Fred grumbled.

Jack watched as the column drove steadily forward, the tanks moving slowly over the broken ground in a single line, the dust and sand rising beneath them like steam as they moved through the half light of dawn.

'Where are they going?' Stan asked, as the lead vehicle turned on its tracks, the tank slewing to the left before heading away from the company.

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