“That’s all right I’ll have the half cup.”
Johnny made his way back to Alf who thanked him and took a swig. It was stronger than before and bitty. Johnny’s was disgusting but knowing they wouldn’t get anymore for hours he persisted with it. Butcher got up, removed his pot and put it on the desert floor to cool. Then he kicked sand over the fire to extinguish it. The little flames roared and hissed in protest before they went out.
The first rays of sun broke over the hills and shone in their eyes. It felt instantly warming. Soldiers began gathering up personal effects and stuffing them into pockets. Many of them had empty gas mask containers to store matches, lighters and cigarettes. The gas masks long ago discarded because of the unlikelihood of gas being used out in the desert. Soldiers used an array of items personal to them.
The first of the trucks started up. Black smoke from its exhaust wafting over the men waiting to board it. Rushton and Doyle got into their Jeep. Doyle lighting yet again another cigarette. One of the Jeeps failed to start. The driver dipped the clutch again and swung the gear stick about to check it was in neutral before trying for a second time.
Still nothing.
Rushton put his hand up for his Jeep to stop and shouted across to the driver.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Dunno Sir. It won’t start.”
Rushton nodded towards Alf and Johnny.
“You’ve got two engineers there. Get them to have a look.”
Johnny swung round on Alf.
“Do we have to do everything around here,” he said none too quietly.
Alf glanced nervously at Rushton. The Major hadn’t heard Johnny’s comments.
“Shh!” Alf held a finger to his lips “What would you rather be doing? Trying to start a Jeep belonging to the S.A.S or stuck in a German P.O.W camp.”
Johnny had to admit the latter was not attractive.
“Ask the engineers!..As if I don’t know how to drive my own bloody Jeep,” the driver was muttering to himself as Alf climbed up into the vehicle. The driver gave him a nod of acknowledgement and tried her again. He flicked the little chrome switch and pushed the starter. Still nothing.
“Must be the batteries,” Alf said.
The driver tried once more.
“It’s no good. It’s not going to start,” he said banging both his fists on the steering wheel. Alf jumped out, reached into the back of the Jeep and picked up the crank handle and passed it to Johnny. Johnny reluctantly took it. It was a big engine. It would take a big effort to turn it over by hand and neither Johnny nor Alf were anywhere near one hundred per cent fit. Never the less he got down on his knees to find the hole for the handle and slotted it in. He then stood up, cracked his knuckles and grasping the crank with both hands, gave it a first turn. It was easier than he thought it would be and the engine spluttered as it turned over.
Another attempt.
Still nothing!
He tried a few more times. Still it wouldn’t start.
Alf tried a couple of time to start it. Then they raised the Jeep’s hood and peered inside. There was nothing obvious. Doyle pulled up alongside, his cigarette smoke taken by the breeze. He watched as Alf and Johnny poked and prodded at different parts of the engine.
“Having trouble?”
“It won’t start. We tried the crank. I think the problem may be electrical. There’s not much we can do out here without parts. Can we abandon it?”
Doyle played with his moustache.
“No better not leave it. Tow it behind one of the trucks. I’ll let the Major know.”
He let his clutch out and roared away in pursuit of Rushton.
The driver of the Jeep flicked the ignition off.
“There are some chains in the back of that truck,” he said jerking his thumb at Johnny. Johnny looked at Alf, gobsmacked.
“Who the hell does he think he’s talking to then?”
Alf, realising that this was the way these tough L.R.D.G men were used to talking to each other, merely clapped Johnny on the shoulder.
“Come on let’s go get those chains.”
“Who the hell does he think he is? I’m a sergeant now and he’d better remember it.”
“I don’t think he cares Johnny. It’s the same with us isn’t it? Remember those two who joined us from the tanks. Thought they were snooty and better than everyone else. Well no one took to them either did they? Hey? And just as well really when they both got killed by that mine. Nobody cared. Everyone just said ’Thank God! Any one but me!’ Didn’t they!”
“Yes I remember them. I didn’t get to know them though, didn’t want to.”
“And now they’re buried out here with just tin helmets marking their graves. Never to see home or their loved ones again. We buried them and we didn’t even care. That’s how these men feel. We are going to be given all the shit jobs here we can be sure of that. We’ll have to do them well if we want to earn their trust. Fighting with them will only cause us trouble and remember Johnny, technically, they did save us from a certain death. If it wasn’t for them we would still be trapped inside that wrecked aeroplane, straving and without water. So we owe them that much!”
Johnny half smiled.
“I suppose we do.”
Alf grabbed hold of one of the large hooks attached to the rusty steel chains. He found he had to use all his strength to move them. They were as thick as his wrist. He put his left foot up on the tailgate of the truck for more leverage and gritted his teeth. Johnny grabbed the chain and began pulling as well.
“These are heavy,” he said.
“Should do the trick.”
They carried the chains over to the broken down Jeep. One end ended in a large hook. There was an eye at the front of the Jeep. Alf attached the hook and waited as one of the A.E.C trucks was reversed into position. Alf threaded the chain through the trucks tailgate and around the Jeeps front again and back to the truck with the other hook. There was some slack and Alf beckoned the driver of the A.E.C to move forward slowly to take it up. The chain links grated against each other as they were pulled tight. The Jeeps driver released his parking brake and the jeep rolled forward as the A.E.C pulled away.
“You’d better hurry unless you want to be left behind,” the Jeeps driver said as he passed Alf and Johnny. They laughed as they ran to catch him. Alf jumped into the passenger seat as the two vehicles sped up and suddenly Johnny found himself having to sprint to keep up with them. Johnny reached out a hand and Alf grabbed it and pulled him up.
“If you want to travel first class mate you’d better get your finger out,” the driver was laughing.
“Yeah thanks a lot mate!” Johnny said out of breath.
Alf smiled at Johnny.
“These S.A.S blokes are all right.”
“You think so,” Johnny wasn’t at all impressed.
“He wouldn’t have left you behind,” Alf said looking at the driver. The driver looked over his shoulder at Johnny.
“Yes I would,” he said.
Johnny just squinted at him. Then the driver broke into a grin.
“Name’s Danny. Danny Boyle.”
“Alfie Dennis. And that there’s Johnny Larder.”
Johnny nodded for what could pass as a greeting.
“You get those scars from your plane crash?
“You all know about that?” Alf was surprised.
“I heard a bit about it. Something about a stolen German aeroplane. You wanna tell me about it?”
Alf couldn’t be bothered. He was tired of repeating the story.
“There’s not really much to tell.”
“Fair enough mate.”
“I wouldn’t mind learning a bit about what you do though.”