Hellfire (2011) by James Holland

Author:James Holland
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: WWII/Military/Fiction
Published: 2012-05-14T23:00:00+00:00

16

Peploe led them south, towards the edge of the Qattara Depression, and they continued east, along the Depression’s edge. Dawn was breaking, the desert turning pink as the first sliver of sun rose above the horizon. Fifteen miles or so from the minefields, Peploe called a halt. Behind them and to the north, artillery fire continued to boom. A thick pall of smoke hung over the British minefields, so that the tip of Himeimat rose above it like a mountain peak bursting through cloud. Among the fog of smoke and dust they could see thin columns of black smoke rising, burning wrecks of enemy machines butchered by the Desert Air Force.

Time, though, for a head count, and to contact Battalion. And a much-needed brew.

A carrier from 2 Platoon was missing, as were two trucks from 3 Platoon. No one knew where they were but, equally, no one claimed to have seen them hit either. The only vehicle known to have been lost was Sergeant McAllister’s; the rest of Lieutenant Shopland’s 1 Platoon was still present and correct, as were the two trucks of Company Headquarters. They had also been joined by a six-pounder and gun tractor from KRRC.

‘I thought you was our mob,’ said the sergeant. ‘I was just following you and trying to get out of there.’

‘Do you want to stick with us for the moment?’ Peploe asked him. ‘There’s every chance we’ll bump into the rest of your lot at some point.’

‘Don’t mind if we do, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘It’s Rakes, by the way. 5 Platoon, B Company.’

And apart from Rifleman Parsons, the company could report no further casualties. A miracle, but Parsons needed help quickly if he was to survive. He had been shot twice in the leg and once in his lower abdomen. Tanner had tied a tourniquet around the top of his thigh, but despite this and the mass of field dressings that had been pressed against his wounds, the lad was losing a lot of blood.

‘Right, let’s get him on to one of 1 Platoon’s Bedfords,’ said Peploe, ‘and then to an RAP at Division HQ as quick as we can.’

Shopland picked one of his trucks and sent them on their way, speeding off.

While char was brewed, Tanner climbed on to the body of his truck with his binoculars and gazed back towards the stretch of desert through which Rommel’s strike force was now pouring. He could see at least two main columns, clouds of dust following in their wake. He looked at his watch. Nearly a quarter to five. The nearest column was some two or three thousand yards away, but he reckoned A Company needed to get a move on. If they were to fulfil their task, they had to get ahead of the enemy columns, then drive at them out of the sun, shoot up whatever was in front of them and scuttle away again. Harry and snap, Peploe had said.

He glanced around at the men. They all looked exhausted, faces smeared with oil and grime.

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