The German had disappeared!
Doyle searched for him. He wasn’t at the ladder or on the ground near the post. Doyle couldn’t believe it. He’d only taken his eyes away for a second. His men couldn’t move on this post without knowing the whereabouts of the sentry. He checked the tower again.
The German re-appeared where he’d stood before.
Doyle could see the man’s features clearly. Doyle felt his finger on the trigger. He could take the shot now. The bullet would hit the German right between the eyes. He felt the thrill of the kill rise in him.
The trouble was the Lee Enfield would make so much noise.
It would definitely give them away.
It was no good. They would have to get closer to take the tower.
“You’re lucky Fritz. I could pop you now,” Doyle said into the rifle’s scope, “But I’ve got to get closer.”
He shouldered the weapon and prepared to move on the position.
They moved on the tower with stealth, using the buildings for cover. Doyle waited until he was sure the coast was clear, then moved to the base of the ladder and slowly ascended. At the top he peered over just enough to see his target. The German was leaning over the parapet with his back to Doyle. Doyle moved up the rungs and stopped level with the guard.
Corporal Gunther Shroess had heard the ladder creak and presumed it was private Willi Hoefel returning from the lavatory. The private had been complaining of an upset stomach earlier. Shroess turned, smiling. He liked the young private very much.
“Feeling better Willi?”
The smile vanished. Instead of seeing the young private in a Wehrmacht uniform he was greeted by a man dressed all in black, blacked face, holding a black silenced pistol.
Shroess opened his mouth to shout as Doyle pulled the trigger.
Twice!
Shroess staggered forward. He knew he’d been shot but surprisingly he felt no pain, just a warmth. At such close range the bullets had passed through his body and had left via his back. His legs felt heavy. He now found he couldn’t move them. He tried to reach out for Doyle but his arms were numb. He died on his feet and fell forward as Doyle caught him. The sergeant lowered him onto a wooden chair and arranged him so he looked like he was napping. Next he checked the tower for anything of use. There were some documents on an upturned crate. Doyle glanced through them. There was nothing of importance. Next to them he found some drawings, sketches, of various desert landscapes, camels, a really good one of the Medina and one, that was particularly good, of a beautiful woman. Doyle brought it up close to his face.
“Now who are you?” he asked the picture.
He rolled it up and slid it into his trouser pocket. He looked across at the dead German.
“You can draw Fritz. I’ll give you that,” he tapped the picture inside his pocket “You don’t mind sharing her do you?”
He leafed through other sheets of paper but the rest were all blank. There were some food cans on a small table, some empty, some half full, some unopened. A half finished can of sardines and a fork with some bread were nearby. Doyle went to the edge and took out his cigarette lighter. He cupped his hand over the flame and exposed it twice as was the pre-arranged signal, then snapped the lighter shut and descended the ladder.
Doyle took out the next two towers. These both had two guards each and he had to shoot the first guard from the top of the ladder and quickly rush up to finish them off. In the fourth, unbelievably, both guards were asleep. No doubt safe in the knowledge that the first tower would raise the alarm in time for them to wake up and take action. Two shots each in the head and they were dead. Not even stirring at the sound of the silenced gun.
The next tower was on the other side of the town square. The two other teams could now move and take up their positions.
Rushton and his men were ready for the fortress. They were hiding in amongst trees and shrubs waiting for his signal to begin. Alf and Johnny’s group stayed together. They would split once they reached the harbour.
They were ready.
They could see Rushton.
They all now waited for his signal.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Private Willi Hoefel closed the door to the toilet behind him. He was glad to be out. The toilet was no more than a crude wooden hole above a pit. There was no running water and the smell was hideous.
He’d had an upset stomach all day and was concerned it may become dysentery. Many of his unit at Gabes were now ill, some seriously. His friend Gunther Shroess, had read somewhere that it was contagious and was spread by direct contact with a sufferer and by the flies. Over the winter months the fly population was reduced but now it was April the weather was warming up again. So far he and Shroess had avoided the sickness. This morning though he had woken up with what he’d thought was bad wind. He only just made it to the toilet. Now he was leaving the latrine for the fifth time that day. He didn’t feel ill and had a good appetite. He’d left an unfinished can of sardines and some bread and was looking forward to finishing them when he got back. Time for them soon enough. Willi reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a half smoked cigarette. He’d hand rolled some earlier but only ever smoked half at a time. He cupped his hands around the flame of his lighter in case he was seen by anyone, particularly an officer. He was, still, officially, on duty. He knew Gunther would cover for him though. Gunther was a good friend. But Gunther hated cigarette smoke and would never let Willi smoke in the tower. Other men smoked in theirs. Gunther said that the officers knew it went on but had to actually catch a sentry in the act before they could do anything about it. Willi took a pull on the cigarette. It felt warming to him.
’How could anyone not get pleasure from it?” he asked himself ’I mean what else do we men have all out here if not this.’
A large puppy with gangly legs and big feet came loping around a corner. It stopped to sniff at something. Then realising the item wasn’t edible it raised its head and sniffed the air for some time. Then it caught sight of Willi and came running over, its clumsy feet flicking out in all directions. The puppy sniffed around his feet and he watched it from above, clicking his tongue at it.
“Hello,” he said “Hello,” between tongue clicks. The puppy threw itself into a sitting position bumping his leg. It looked up at him with big, bright, shiny eyes. Willi flicked his cigarette butt into the road and bent down to ruffle the hair on the puppy’s head.
“You’re a handsome little fellow aren’t you.”
Willi reached under the dog’s front legs and picked it up to cuddle it. The puppy turned its head and a big pink tongue came out and lapped at his face.
“Hello,” Willi said again to it “You’re a little small to be out here on your own aren’t you? Where’s your mother?”
The puppy was sniffing at his jacket pocket, not the one with the cigarettes in, the other one, something better. Willi smiled and reached into the pocket.
“I know what you can smell.”
He took out four squares of chocolate, blew some fluff off them and held them to the puppy’s nose. The tongue came out again and licked at the chocolate. Then tiny little milk teeth bit at it. The puppy bit some chocolate off but dropped it. Willi put him down and quickly broke the squares up and put them on the road. The puppy happily munched through one of them, leaving a trail of drool over the others. Then he promptly lost interest and proceeded to sit and lick his bits.