’Did she not call out the name Otto once in her sleep? Otto?
He felt himself breaking out into a sweat. He slowly lowered his field glasses to look at Wurtz. He let his hand fall casually to his side and felt the reassurance of his holstered Luger.
“Are you married Major?” he asked nervously.
“That’s a strange question to ask at a time like this.”
“You said I didn’t like you. I’m just trying to get to know you.”
Wurtz stared at him for a few moments. Koenig found it difficult to hold his gaze but he managed it. Wurtz was trying to read the other mans thoughts. Finally he put his binoculars back to his face. To Koenigs relief he said.
“No I’m not married Colonel.”
Koenig let out a silent sigh.
“My wife is dead,” he took his field glasses away and stared at the Colonel again.
“She was murdered.”
Koenig was shocked.
’He said it as if he doesn’t care,’ he was thinking. Then he remembered the deserters, Klaus Stuck dying in the road, the corpse he shot. Perhaps the man has no feelings.
“I’m very sorry Major. If you would like to tell me about it, if you want to talk….”
“I don’t!”
The German lorries stopped in the town centre of Matmata. Their officer Leutnant Braun was out first. He ordered his men to standard defensive positions.
“Cover, there, there, there and there. Go! Go!”
The Bedford was nearby. Braun smiled when he saw the blood on the passenger door.
“They’re wounded,” he said “And nothing’s more dangerous than a wounded animal. Remember that all these English are animals not fit to be part of our master race,” He continued trying to provoke his men.
From the safety of their covering positions the English and Indians heard Brauns comments and anger flushed over them. Fingers tightened on triggers. Suddenly a shot rang out and the back of Brauns head disappeared. Larder was looking down the sights of his high powered Enfield snipers rifle. He smirked as he saw the look of surprise on Brauns face. Their cover blown the rest of the British opened fire.
Shaw was annoyed that Larder had fired without waiting for the order. The Germans under cover now began firing at anything and everything. Alf’s men keeping their heads down. The first sound of the machine gun fire made Sanjay jump. He was pulling pieces of splintered bone from Tim’s arm. The bullet had passed straight through and the wound was clean but Tim had lost quite a bit of blood. Sanjay was more concerned that often these sorts of wounds became infected by the constant buzzing flies in the desert, flies that caused dysentery.
The German firing ceased. The British were inside buildings, now they moved up to windows and doorways and returned fire. Bullets rained down on the trucks. One of them had a fuel line hit and it suddenly exploded, the petrol ignited by sparks. From the outskirts of town Koenig and Wurtz saw the smoke.
“Braun come in. Come in Braun,” Koenig was calling into the radio.
“That must have been the British truck going up.”
“Leutnant Braun come in.” Koenig put the handset down “It’s useless.”
Now with the radio off they could hear the gunfire.
“How many men have you sent into that town?”
“Fifty in four trucks Major.”
“Should be enough to clear out a few British in one truck.”
Alf, Burroughs and two other men were now at street level. Alf was at the corner of a building. Every time he put even an inch of his face around it a burst of German bullets struck the wall causing him to move back. After half a dozen attempts he had seen enough to know that the Germans pinning them down were behind a group of empty oil drums.
“There are two of them,” Alf said to the others “They’re behind a stack of oil drums. Can’t tell what weapon they’re using.”
He risked another look. He gestured to Burroughs and they swapped places.
“There’s a stack of wooden pallets over by that wall. Two of you get behind them and give covering fire. I and Charlie will go the other way. We need to get behind them. By flanking them they will only be able to attack one target. Let’s flush them out. Ready?”
The others nodded to Alf. He pulled the pin on a grenade.
“One, two, three,” he released the trigger, counted “One, two,” and threw the grenade at the drums. It hit them and bounced back a few yards. The two Germans saw it and hit the deck, face first. Burroughs and his man Bill Smith ran for the pallets. The grenade exploded, pieces of shrapnel pierced the drums. The Germans slowly raised their heads then took up their positions again and resumed firing at Alf’s position making him duck. Burroughs and Bill opened fire at them and they swung around to face the new danger, once again taking cover as bullets whipped up around them.
Alf and Charlie now ran for the next corner and from there to the next. Now they were slightly behind the Germans left. Wilf and Bill took cover as the Germans opened up again. Now Alf made his move. He walked up calmly behind the Germans and emptied a Sten clip into their backs driving them forwards into the oil drums, killing them. Alf stood over them. They were dead.
Then a single shot rang out. Alf felt something smack him in the left shoulder. He felt heat at first, then pain, then numbness. It spun him around and put him on his back in the road.
The German sniper continued staring down his sights for a few more moments. The Englishman was definitely still alive. He had shot high, to the mans left shoulder, not wanting to kill him, only to wound him, leave him in the road hurt, draw the others out. They would try to get to the injured man now. He needed treatment desperately. The German had watched the English as they’d run to cover. He had been unable to get a clear shot on the men sprinting from cover to cover. He had watched as the Englishman had coldly walked up to the two German machine gunners and slaughtered them.
He moved his scope across the field of vision. He couldn’t get a clear shot on the two men behind the pallets. He couldn’t see the fourth man who had made it from corner to corner. The one in the road he could kill at any time and decided he would play with him when the time was right. He swept his scope again. Still no clear shot. Again nothing. Again. ’What was that’?
He saw something that stood out. Something that hadn’t been there a moment before. He turned the focus on his sight. It was a rifle barrel and it was pointing straight at him. He zoomed and could see the telescopic sight. It was another sniper. For a moment he thought he saw the other man’s eye staring at him.
Larder pulled the trigger.
The Enfield bullet smashed through the German telescope, through the German’s eye and through the back of his head. Larder doubled checked to make sure his opponent was dead before calling out to Burroughs on the ground. They rushed across to Alf. He was barely conscious. Wasting no time they picked him up and moved him to cover.
The sappers of the 4 Indian army were leaderless. Major Basil Shaw had been killed in a crossfire. The Indians were suppressing a group of Germans. They were now being led by Sergeant Singh. A handful of well aimed grenades reduced the Germans by almost half. Still they fought. Two Indians fell, then a third, then another German. Then the remaining Germans were over run. They were all wounded and surrendered to Singh. He at once accepted their surrender, took away their weapons and posted guards.
Elsewhere in the town the fighting was vicious. Eight English soldiers were now dead. Finally the Germans gained the upper hand and Singh was forced to abandon the surrendered Wehrmacht. Larder was still on the rooftop from where he had killed the sniper. He moved down, crossed the street and made his way to the dead German. He put a foot on the man and pushed him over. The man’s right eye was missing. A huge gaping wound in his head. He picked up the German rifle.