“That one was for Alf,” he said.
Elsewhere in the town he could hear the fighting and he moved towards it. He crossed the street, ran up some steps, went three quarters of the way round a flat roof and took up position. He spotted some enemy troops and quickly loaded the Enfield to the maximum six bullets. He looked through his scope and smiled.
The first German he hit right between the eyes. The second required two shots. The third made a run for it and Johnny caught him in the throat. His blood sprayed and he fell, mortally wounded. Then as Johnny looked for more victims he saw to his horror four Germans wheeling a 50mm mobile cannon from one of the trucks.
Charlie came running up the steps, Johnny turned at the sound and saw that it was his friend.
“Johnny we’ve got to go! They’ve got a 50mm.”
Larder went back to sighting. He targeted one German and fired. Another clean kill. The second he missed by millimetres. Suddenly from somewhere a Panzershreck was fired straight at Charlie and Larder, Its rocket whooshed across the street and exploded against a wall right beside Charlie’s head. Johnny was hit hard. He was knocked flat on his face. At first he thought he was dead, then, deaf, his ears ringing, he was back in the black dog that night after being hit with the bottle.
Then he saw Margaret in front of him.
“What are you doing here my love?”
Though he knew he had spoken the words he hadn’t heard them. He could only see out of one eye. The right side of his face was filled with shrapnel and concrete and powder burns. Then as his eyesight cleared momentarily he saw Charlie laying next to him. He could see that Charlie was dead, his throat had been ripped open, his face unrecognisable.
“Poor Charlie, my friend Charlie.”
Then Johnny collapsed and lost consciousness.
Major Otto Wurtz of the SS was livid. He paced up and down in the centre of Matmata brandishing his Luger handgun. The German truck was smouldering nearby. The dead Germans were being piled together, the British dead dragged out and dumped where ever. The British wounded were being brought out in front of him. Those that couldn’t walk were carried without consideration for their injuries. Johnny Larder was brought out and put down. Alf, supported by Burroughs who wasn’t hurt, saw him and feared the worst. Johnny turned his head slowly and smiled at Alf.
“I’m still here old ’un.”
Despite his pain Alf chuckled. It seemed in another lifetime that alf had playfully punched Larder for calling him that.
“Is that all of them?”
“Yes Herr Major,” SS sergeant Bonmann replied.
“Who is in command here?” Wurtz asked turning his head this way and that. His eyes came to rest on Alfs stripes. Alf looked at him wearily.
“Sergeant?” Wurtz enquired.
“Major Shaw was killed in a gun battle. Captain William Rogers is now most senior.”
“And where is he?”
“Over there sir,” Bonmann replied “Their Captain is dead.”
“I didn’t know,” Alf said, “Then Doctor Sanjay will be next in line.”
“Do you not salute a superior officer sergeant? I am a Major of the SS.”
“I would if I could sir but my shoulder was hit by sniper fire.”
“That’s quite all right sergeant. The Major can see that you’ve been wounded and that you would salute if you could,” Koenig replied more for Wurtz’ benefit than Alf’s.
Wurtz glared at Koenig. This wasn’t the first time that the Colonel had appeared to side against him.
“And who is Doctor Sanjay?” Wurtz asked, his eyes still on Koenig.
“That would be me sir,” Sanjay walked into the sun wiping his blood stained hands on a towel, “I am Warrant Officer Sanjay Rashid of the 4 Indian army Major,” he said saluting smartly.
“Now look at that! A monkey that can act civilised,“ Wurtz said mocking the man. The SS were laughing. A rush of anger went round the British.
Sanjay pretended to ignore the remark.
“I am an officer and a gentleman and the best surgeon in the Indian army Major if that is more helpful to you.”
“Well then you can start with tending to my men.”
“Actually Doctor you can decide who needs to be treated first depending upon urgency. British or German. Priority cases only. Also Doctor as you are the most senior here I formally accept your offer of surrender. I Colonel Hans Koenig, commanding officer here under General Hans Jurgen Von Arnim.”
Wurtz knew he was beaten. The first time he had met Koenig he had guessed the man was soft but each time Koenig had pulled rank.
’Never mind,’ Wurtz thought ’Perhaps he’ll do something treasonable and I can arrest him.’
“Very well Doctor Sanjay your surrender is accepted,” Wurtz turned to Bonmann and nodded. Bonmann came forward with the Enfield rifle.
“All except one,” Wurtz said holstering his Luger. He held the Enfield up. “The owner of this rifle….” he said turning it over in his hand “Is to be hanged! There is no place in war for snipers. This disgusting art of murdering in cold blood.”
Sanjay was furious.
“You have accepted the surrender of these men Colonel. They can now consider themselves prisoners of war.”
“They can. Major I protest.”
“Colonel the man who owns this rifle has calmly and collectedly murdered German soldiers with it.”
“He was fighting his war the same as everyone else.”
Wurtz took his Luger out and pointed it at Burroughs.
“Perhaps you would prefer it if I just started shooting at random. Sooner or later I’m bound to get the right man.”
There was absolute silence.
“Very well,” Wurtz said cocking the pistol.
“It’s mine.”
Johnny limped forward supported by Tim.
“The rifle is mine.”
“That’s very brave of you,” Wurtz spoke to Bonmann “Prepare a noose. I want this to be quick….” Wurtz stopped.
There was a sound of squeaking. As they listened it got louder.
“Tanks,” Alf said.
A German half track made its way into the square. Its back was full of Afrika Korps. It came around in a wide arc and pulled up in front of Wurtz and Koenig. Panzer mark IV tanks followed it and stopped at a distance. The injured soldiers laying down could feel the ground shake under so much armour. The passenger door of the half track opened and a man stepped out. A man of average height. He wore a leather hat and greatcoat. He was covered in dust and took his hat off and patted it. It was still dusty. Koenig recognised him and saluted. They had met once before in Berlin at the Fuhrers 50 birthday party. The man returned the salute and offered his right hand.
“It is good to see you again Colonel.”
“Thank you Herr General it is always a pleasure to see you.”
The General walked back towards the halftrack. Wurtz offered his hand but the man ignored it. The General began to unbutton his leather greatcoat. He shrugged it off his shoulders and threw it onto the front seat of the exposed halftrack cab. He irritably slapped his hat again.
“This damned dust.”
He rubbed dust out of his hair vigorously and then put his hat back on and placed it neatly. He strode back to the two officers.
“Now perhaps you would like to explain to me exactly what is going on here.”
“Well we came into this town chasing two British….”
The general shut Wurtz up with one look.
“I wasn’t talking to you Major.”
“Sir?”
“Do you not salute a Field Marshall when you see one?”