Читать книгу Mustafa's Last Well - Tony Preedy - Страница 10

Chapter 4

Libya, year 1361 Hijri: AD 1943

The European war meant little to the inhabitants of Naamlah, but in North Africa it was impossible to escape from its impact as Britain fought against Germany and its Italian ally.

Since arriving in Libya, after the sea journey from Italy to the little port of Surt, Bernhardt’s panzer squadron of Rommel’s Africa Corps had made rapid progress in their small part of the conquest of North Africa. Their panzer convoy of Tiger 3 tanks, headed by a type 233, eight-wheeled armoured reconnaissance vehicle, was proceeding towards their destination, the British Egyptian military base in Alexandria. Earlier, the convoy had included half-track trucks carrying fuel, as the panzer tanks needed a gallon for every mile, but this supply had been exhausted, and they now relied on the widely separated fuel dumps of their Italian allies.

Corporal Bernhardt Grover had in six months seen his budding career as an entomologist replaced by that of a tank commander. He was intrigued by the desert, which to his four companions in the Tiger 3 was just a barren wilderness of endless sand, populated by a few inhospitable Bedouin natives. To Bernhardt, the sparse vegetation and unaccustomed life that is supported in the Misratah and more recently the Damah regions held a fascination which he fought to resist, as it replaced the propaganda induced fervour with which he had departed the Fatherland. Given the opportunity, he would have abandoned the tank and its crew of indoctrinated youths and instead collected samples for future study. He had anticipated that at least he would be able to practice his Arabic, hastily taught whilst in Italy, but had underestimated both the sparseness of the population and the reluctance of the few people he encountered to talk to a German invader.

Battle-hardened by increasing British opposition, successful in several skirmishes, they had added captured supplies of Allied forces to those dwindling in the depleted half-tracks that they had previously been following. Now, having entered the range of RAF daytime reconnaissance operating out of an Egyptian base, they had adopted a tactic of maintaining radio silence between the lead panzer and the 233 car, and restricted movements to night-time. Each morning, before the rising sun had time to transform the steel armour of the panzer into an inferno, they camped under camouflage nets and rested. The previous night two panzers had succumbed to the abrading sand, which weakened the joints in their steel tracks as though they were wood. When undertaken as a planned operation it was relatively straightforward – just a matter of releasing a pin, dropping the track onto the sand and driving the machine off her old track and onto the replacement. The crew had all practiced the operation many times in ideal conditions, but when it happened as now, unexpectedly, in the dark, on only one side of the vehicle and uneven ground, it could be a difficult, sometimes dangerous, and time-consuming operation involving other vehicles and extra men. Inevitably it took more time than they would have liked. The convoy, now approaching Al Jaghbub, near the border with Egypt, was not, therefore, capable of moving until dawn, when it would be unsafe. They had therefore been unable to choose their daily hiding place with customary care.

The Germans were otherwise complacent in the knowledge that their efforts at camouflage would avoid detection from the air, because a few extra humps among those left by centuries of erosion in the desert would not be detected unless recent aerial photographs existed for comparison. Given the other failures, Bernhardt inspected the tracks of his panzer and decided he could not afford to miss the opportunity to fit replacements. The new track was unloaded and laid out in the sand ahead of the vehicle. The old one was released and joined to the new to form a straight steel road on which the panzer would move forward without drive sprockets ever disengaging.

In the crucial moment when the camouflage had been thrown clear to allow the panzer to move, they heard the whine of an aeroplane engine, and Bernhardt’s heart sank as he watched the aircraft alter course and swoop towards them before the netting could be reinstated. The convoy leader ordered all of the gunners to open fire with their anti-aircraft machine guns in a desperate attempt to prevent their presence being announced by the pilot. Hampered by the nets, they were not successful, and they watched in disappointment as the plane departed. The order was given for the convoy to move, because it was now anticipated that the British Army would soon know their position. Bernhardt’s panzer was the only one incapable of moving on and was now to complete the operation of track replacement and then try to catch up with the others.

***

The RAF observer relayed the German convoy’s position to the staff at his base at Alexandria, who in turn informed the Army, who alerted the nearest British tank patrol, who were at that moment only a few miles to the south of Bur at Tarfawi. From a captured British type 19 radio set within the panzer, with its click dials still set to the frequency on which they found it tuned, Bernhardt heard the strong, brief, coded radio signal which the Germans guessed was the acknowledgement from a nearby British patrol. Bernhardt was now even more eager to be away and urged his men into action. He chose to go under the belly to make the vital connection which would complete the loop of track as the panzer moved slowly forward. So intent were they to complete the job quickly that no one noticed the rumble, muffled by intervening dunes, of approaching tanks until it was too late. The gun loader shouted as he first sensed the cooling effect of a shadow on his bare back. The shadow was caused by the muzzle of a gun. The Sherman tank to which it was attached appeared, its menacing shadow cast by the morning sun over the scene of frantic activity. Over a dune it climbed, as the loader continued to shout his warning to his commander. His cries were cut short by machine-gun fire as he and two others died. The driver, head projecting from the panzer’s hatch, involuntarily stopped progress at track replacement, old track half off and new track still flat on the sand, when his skull was shattered by the machine gun of the Sherman. Meanwhile, the turret of the Sherman was turned, and its barrel aimed. The inevitable shell, as it exploded, lifted the panzer off both of her tracks, and she settled with wheels burying themselves in the sand. Bernhardt’s mind went blank.

***

The British, finding no prisoners or any justification to further disable the panzer, departed to the east to join their comrades in pursuit of the German convoy.

The day passed without Bernhardt regaining consciousness. As darkness fell and the heat faded from the sand, the jackals emerged from their daytime slumber and soon found the scent of the bodies of Bernhardt’s companions. They smelt him later, but made no effort to dig into his cover because, apart from one, they had by then already satiated their hunger. The last to depart was about to taste his outstretched hand as Bernhardt regained consciousness, his ears still ringing. The animal departed when the fingers began to move unexpectedly. Slowly, he recalled what had happened to put him in this situation; trapped beneath the hot steel belly. Whilst he had been unconscious grains of sand beneath him had moved to accommodate his body, such that the pressure of the smooth armoured underbody of his panzer was evenly distributed along his vertebrae. He tried to wriggle free but found that he could only move his head, in which the sound of the exploding shell still reverberated, plus the fingers of the extended left hand that had frightened the jackal. By moving his chin, he formed a pocket in the sand beneath his mouth and with his tongue, he cleared the sand that adhered to his lips and teeth. He was at least able to get air into his lungs via his throat, he realised. He exhaled in a futile and painful call for help that went unanswered. The depression by his mouth slowly filled with hot oil as it leaked from the damaged engine and trickled down his cheeks. He felt a different kind of depression as he became afraid that he would die a slow death. In a panic, he wet himself. Again, he lost consciousness.

When he next regained his senses, the earth had circled the sun and it was again approaching its zenith, turning the mass of steel above him into a furnace. Something brushed past his fingers, causing him to attempt to shout, but whatever it was, perhaps a snake or scorpion, he thought, scampered away. The oil had dispersed into the sand, but its acrid smell remained, and its liquidity taunted him. He needed to drink and knew that soon he would not even have moisture in his body for perspiration. His trousers dampened and became sticky when excrement filled the space between his buttocks and the panzer. He thought of his past and then what he would miss if he died. He wished he had collected those specimens when he had the opportunity. He cursed the Führer. He prayed. His only sense of time came from the cooling and heating of the panzer, as his watch was on his left wrist beyond vision.

Darkness fell again and he heard more animal activity, but it was the screech of birds fighting over the remains of his companions, he decided. Whilst it was cool, he slept a little but was awakened by cramp in his right leg, resulting he assumed from loss of salt to perspiration. Nothing he could do would relieve this new pain that compounded that from his chest, and again he lost consciousness. He came around when it was again hot, craving food and water. The oil that still felt wet but now cool on his cheeks still tempted him. A new sensation alerted him. The sand beneath was vibrating infinitesimally and he realised a panzer, no, several panzers, were responsible. His hopes were raised in the belief that his squadron was returning for him after defeating the British. Soon he could hear the engines, but they were not familiar and with dismay he realised it was the most likely victorious British avoiding mines by navigating in the tracks of his convoy. The sound grew louder as he resolved that they must find him. Rather their prisoner of war than a dehydrated flattened corpse, he thought. As he fought the pain, he filled his lungs with oily air, as far as the panzer above and sand below would allow. He waited, knowing that his shout would have to be audible above the din of machinery. Alas, that was as close as they came for the sound now diminished. Though it pained his ribs, he shouted as loud as he could but knew it was futile and he realised then that some ribs were broken.

Twice more the sun rose and set, and he went through the agony of daily roasting and nightly freezing, always fighting the temptation to lick the oil that surrounded his parched lips. He was losing body mass and realised that as he starved to death, he had the compensation of being able to move parts of his body, if only a few millimetres. With his free left hand, he started to scratch the sand until he was able to move his wrist. Then he could scoop sand with his hand. He found it tiring and painful but concentrated on the task to the exclusion of all else.

The boys found the tank after they first saw the birds hovering above and as they drew near, they were directed by the smell of the half-eaten corpses. They dismounted their camels, frightening the desert birds from their meal, and scurried down the dunes to the panzer and its corpses. With one hand they held their noses tight to reduce the offensive smell. With the other, they wafted away flies, cut away the wristwatches, identity tags, rings, purses and insignia of the Germans and placed their booty in the pockets of their robes. The boys took boots and hats and placed them in a camel blanket. One climbed onto the panzer and robbed the corpse of the driver, of a gold ring, by cutting off a bony finger that still gripped the throttle control.

Bernhardt felt the jolt as the boy descended inside. He stopped digging and listened, assuming it was a large animal. Then he felt a hand trying to remove his watch. Thinking he was in contact with something edible, he tried to grab it with his remaining strength, causing the boy to drop his knife. The boy reacted in shock, praying quietly to Allah, and then called in Arabic for his companion, who was now divesting the panzer of its stock of food and water. Bernhardt recalled the Arabic he had been taught before departing for Africa and beseeched the owner of the hand for help. His strength failed and the hand escaped. The other boy joined the “hand” and talked excitedly about “the live soldier,” as far as Bernhardt understood. He realised from their conversation that they were reluctant to help because he could tell their father about their thefts. One wanted to leave him but the other, who Bernhardt gathered was called Rashiid, wanted to help. Bernhardt surprised them when he spoke in Arabic, trying to convince them that if they helped to dig him out, he would not tell on them. He was relieved when it was apparent that they understood his limited Arabic. His despondency returned when the other boy, named Malik, still insisted on leaving him to die and was sure no number of men could ever move the tank.

Rashiid said, “We could tell soldiers about him.”

“We have not seen any for weeks,” replied Malik.

Whilst they argued, Bernhardt remembered the shovels strapped to the deck and begged the boys to use these with what he now feared was his last breath. Malik argued that it was not manly to labour with shovels, but Rashiid disagreed and shamed his friend into helping. As the boys shifted sand from beneath him, Bernhardt was able to wriggle, but attempts to assist the boys only caused the panzer to sink further into the sand. The pain from extra pressure on his chest caused him to lose consciousness again. The boys then thought him dead, and Malik was for leaving him, but Rashiid would not give way. After more arguments and many rests, the boys were able to drag the stinking German out into the sun. They poured water onto his lips, which revived him, and wiped the oil from his face. Eventually, Bernhardt managed to drink, but could not stand unaided.

Bernhardt’s Arabic improved rapidly when he realised the young Bedu understood no other language. He learned that he was now in British territory and that no Germans had been seen for a week. After feasting on the panzer’s provisions, the boys helped him on to a camel and set off towards their camp, apparently near the Egyptian border.

***

At the camp, which consisted of a large tent surrounded by chickens, sheep, and a few camels, he was taken to meet the leader, who was also Rashiid’s father. Bernhardt was welcomed and told that he would be able to stay and recuperate. The Bedu took his stinking, oil-soaked uniform and burned it. He was given an Arab robe and turban. Whilst he was still not fully conscious, the women of the camp used precious water and soap to wash him, marvelling at his fair skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. Thereafter he lived as they did, and took pleasure learning of their culture. He never forgot that he owed his life to the two boys, with whom he became great friends, and to Rashiid’s sister, who nursed him. When his ribs had mended, and he was fit to walk and look after himself, the Bedu taught him all they could about the flora and creatures of the sand and survival. They made him earn his keep by tending first their hens and, as he became stronger, their sheep, a task that required only that he sit and watch in case they strayed out of sight. He took the opportunity to explore his surroundings and to become proficient in their language.

After two months, when he was fully recovered, the leader told him that he must now be handed over to the British because they were to move west in search of new grazing. Bernhardt was reluctant to leave, fearing that without a uniform he would be taken for a spy and possibly shot. However, he was accepted as a prisoner of war after the Bedu showed the British soldiers his tank and told them how he was found. On Bernhardt’s insistence, the British agreed to formally bury the, now bleached bones of his crew.

The two boys had mixed feelings when their friend departed but they were at least grateful that he had not divulged their secret. They had feared that if he remained, he may one day use his knowledge against them. Rashiid’s eldest sister was the most disappointed when her blue-eyed patient was taken from her. The German and his nurse, of whom he had seen no more than eyes, feet and henna decorated hands, were each conscious of the un-Islamic feelings that were developing between them. The would-be young lovers parted, each determined never to forget the other.