Hellfire (2011)

by James Holland

  They crept out, crouching the last few hundred yards until, on the crest of the ridge overlooking the town and with the last of the villas just forty yards ahead, they paused. A rough road ran down the hill to the main part of the town and the harbour. On the side nearest to them were the bungalows, and on the other, the main hospital building, faint lights visible between the shutters. One end of the building had been hit, as had several of the villas, but for the most part, the hospital and its accompanying buildings appeared to have been spared the worst of the Allied bombing.

  Vaughan looked at the men, dark faces in the thin light from the stars, then turned to Farrer. ‘Twenty-one hundred, then. Back here.’

  ‘Good luck, sir,’ said Farrer.

  They scrambled out of the hollow and set off towards the nearest villa. Dim light showed from several of the windows to the building’s rear, and as they drew closer, they could discern a passageway between the first villa and the next.

  ‘Let’s go between them and on to the road,’ suggested Vaughan.

  Tanner nodded. A dog barked a little way off and now, as they reached the passageway between the two villas, they heard the faint hum of a radio and then laughter. At least someone’s got something to laugh about, thought Vaughan. They sidled along one wall until they reached the road, opposite the balcony of the main hospital’s ground floor, but it seemed empty and quiet, as did the road itself.

  Vaughan whispered to Tanner, ‘Ready?’

  Tanner had his MP40 loose over one shoulder, his Sauer in his trouser pocket and a Walther 9mm fitted with a silencer in a canvas holster. Attached to his leather belt were six spare magazines for the Schmeisser, as well as some explosives in a pack on his back. Loosening the clasp on the holster, he felt the Walther’s grip, then said, ‘Yes. Let’s go.’

  Together, they stepped out into the road, glanced to either side, then turned left, beside a long, single-storey building. It contained half a dozen apartments, each with a stone balustrade outside and dark-painted doors and shutters, which he recalled had been green. In the first, there was no sign of life, but a light glowed from behind the shutters of the second. They peered at the doorstep, but there was no obvious black stone. Nor was there one at the next, or at the door after that.

  A voice hailed them. Tanner felt his body go taut. Turning, he saw a man on the main steps leading into the hospital across the road. Christ, but he hoped Vaughan could still pass himself off as a convincing German.

  ‘I’m going to talk to him,’ whispered Vaughan, as though reading his thoughts, and walked towards the man.

  A doctor, he guessed. ‘Good evening,’ Vaughan said, in the very correct German he had perfected before the war.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked the man.

  Vaughan walked right up to him, climbed the first two steps, and saw that the man wore the rank of major on his shirt. ‘I beg your pardon, good evening, Herr Major,’ he added hastily, saluting.

  The man waved a hand at him. Oh, don’t worry about that. ‘It’s quiet tonight,’ he said, as though he had forgotten his earlier question.

  Just wants to talk. Vaughan tried to think clearly. Act naturally, he told himself. ‘Yes, it is. Where are the Tommies tonight – with a convoy in too?’

  ‘Staying away so far, thank God,’ said the man. ‘It’s not easy trying to operate with bombs falling all around.’

  ‘No, I can imagine not,’ replied Vaughan, taking out a cigarette. The major moved towards him, pulling out his lighter, and lit it for him. Briefly, Vaughan saw his face. Middle-aged, a two-day growth of beard, deep lines running from his nose to his mouth. ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  Tanner, watching this but understanding little of what was being said, stood silently on the road. Jesus, he thought. Get a move on. He glanced down the hill towards the town. Another truck was passing through – he could see the dim slits of the lights and heard the change of gear.

  ‘Fuel,’ the major said, looking down towards the harbour, ‘but not enough medical supplies.’

  ‘There’s never enough,’ said Vaughan, ‘but that’s always the soldier’s lot.’

  ‘The doctor’s too.’

  From across the road, they heard a radio playing ‘Lili Marlene’.

  ‘I hate that song,’ said the major.

  Vaughan chuckled. ‘I know what you mean. Have you been in Tobruk long?’

  ‘Since the end of June. It was calming down a bit, but we had a lot more in after the Tommies attacked the other night.’

  ‘We must have taken a lot more of them, though. A victory of sorts.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ They smoked in silence for a moment, then the doctor flicked his butt away. ‘I must get back inside.’

  ‘Here’s hoping our quiet night continues,’ said Vaughan.

  ‘That would be most welcome,’ said the doctor. ‘By the way, what are you doing here?’

  ‘Oh, looking for someone. An old friend.’

  ‘A doctor?’

  ‘No. But it doesn’t matter. It was only on the off-chance.’

  ‘They’re doctors and medical staff in those villas, with just a few others – it is safer up here than down by the harbour. Anyway, I must be running along. I hope you find your friend.’ He turned and went back inside.

  Vaughan breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God the doctor hadn’t pressed him.

  ‘You took your time,’ whispered Tanner.

  ‘We’re still alive, aren’t we? Come on, let’s find this bloody stone.’

  While Vaughan had been conversing with the doctor, Tanner had been watching the road and wondering again whether he should mention Tanja Zanowski. How might Vaughan react if they found her? He now cursed himself: he should have suggested Farrer and he carried out the recce instead. Well, it’s too late now. The next block down the road revealed no black stone either, but then, at the first door of the next villa, there it was: a round black stone as big as a fist on the doorstep.

  ‘This is it,’ he whispered to Vaughan, his heart quickening.

  Vaughan breathed in deeply and glanced to either side of him once more. Then, satisfied that the coast was clear, he stood before the door, Tanner just behind him. They could hear talking and laughter from within.

  Just knock, thought Tanner. Let’s get it over and done with. He reached into his holster, pulled out the Walther, cocked it and flicked off the safety catch.

  Footsteps, then the door opened, and a young woman, in a nurse’s uniform, was standing in front of them.

  Bollocks! thought Tanner.

  ‘Ja?’ she said.

  ‘Ask for Tanja,’ hissed Tanner, in Vaughan’s ear.

  He felt Vaughan flinch, but to his relief, Vaughan said, ‘Ich bin für Tanja suchen. Ist sie hier?’

  The girl looked at him warily, then said, ‘Ja. Kommen Sie in,’ and opened the door. ‘Tanja, es gibt einige Leute hier für Sie.’

  Vaughan stepped forward, Tanner close behind him, his fingers curled around the grip and trigger of the Walther. For a moment no one said anything. There, sitting at a simple table in the front room of the apartment, sat Tanja Zanowski, another nurse, and three men, all in uniform.

  Christ, thought Tanner, and shut the door behind him.

  ‘Tanja,’ said Vaughan.

  ‘My God,’ said Tanja, in English. The light was dim – an oil lamp on the table the only illumination – but Tanner saw the shock on her face, and so did the man next to her: he glanced at her, then back at Vaughan, frowning.

  ‘Was ist das?’ he said now, getting to his feet. There was a pistol at his side and, seeing his hand instinctively reach for it, Tanner pushed past Vaughan and raised his weapon.

  ‘No one say a word,’ he said quietly. ‘Sir, tell them.’

  ‘Schweigen Sie alle!’ said Vaughan.

  Tanner’s eyes slid over the ensemble before him. One of the men – blond hair, small chin – was unarmed, but the other two, the thickset man, and another with glasses, had pistols at their waists.
>
  ‘Tell the girls not to scream,’ Tanner said to Vaughan, ‘or I will kill them all.’

  Vaughan repeated the order, then said in English, ‘Tanja, come here now.’

  With wide, frightened eyes, Tanja carefully pushed back her chair and stood up. As she did so, the man next to her lunged, dragging her in front of him so that Tanner could not get a clear shot. In the same moment, he had whipped out his pistol and now pressed it into her side. Tanja let out a muffled cry, but Tanner kept his arm outstretched, pointing at the man.

  ‘What are you doing, Becker?’ said Tanja.

  ‘It’s over,’ he said in English. ‘Put your weapon down, or I will shoot her.’

  ‘No!’ said Vaughan. ‘Don’t!’

  ‘Then order your man to lower his pistol!’

  Vaughan said nothing, but Becker moved his head clear. ‘Now!’ he said again, and in that moment, Tanner made a split-second decision. The shot hissed from the Walther, hitting Becker just above the right eye. He fell backwards, part of his skull and brain splattering against the wall behind. One of the girls let out a small scream. The man in the glasses reached for his pistol and Tanner shot him too.

  ‘Shut up!’ he said. ‘All of you!’ He nudged Vaughan. ‘Tell them to stand up and face the back wall.’

  Like an automaton, Vaughan repeated the order, as Tanner pushed the third man and the two girls roughly around the table. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘find a sheet. Tanja, grab any papers from Becker.’

  Tanja did as she was told, but Vaughan just stood there, mute with disbelief.

  Damn it all, thought Tanner. The man was whimpering and, Tanner now saw, had soiled himself. ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered. ‘We haven’t got time for this.’ He turned the man around, said, ‘Sorry, chum,’ then gave him a short, sharp jab on the left temple. He crumpled to the floor. Tanner pulled out Mustafa’s flick-knife, ripped the German’s shirt and tore it into strips, which he then used to gag and bind the hands of the two girls. They glared at him – and at Tanja.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s get them into one of the bedrooms.’ A corridor led from the room, and Tanja now hurried ahead to open one of the doors.

  ‘Tell them to lie face down on the floor,’ he told her.

  Tanja did so, the two girls obeying immediately.

  Tanner stood over them and tore the last of the shirt into two. ‘Here,’ he said, handing a strip to Tanja. ‘You tie her legs and I’ll do the other’s. Then let’s get the hell out of here. Do you need anything?’

  ‘Just my satchel,’ she replied.

  ‘Then get it, quickly.’

  The girl who had initially answered the door began to writhe, and Tanner sighed. He hated having to act like this towards women. ‘Sorry, ladies,’ he said, standing up and shutting the door behind him. Tanja was now beside him too.

  ‘All right?’ he said.

  She nodded. ‘You killed Becker,’ she said, a look of incredulity on her face.

  ‘Who’s Becker?’

  ‘Cobra, Jack. Becker was Cobra.’

  ‘He looked like a bloody snake to me,’ Tanner muttered. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  He brushed past Vaughan and, without another glance at the carnage within, opened the front door, checked that the road was clear, then ushered out Tanja and Vaughan. Calmly, steadily, they walked back up the road, then turned down the narrow passageway between the two villas through which they had come just fifteen minutes earlier. No one spoke as they carefully stepped across the sand and salt-bush to where the others were waiting.

  ‘Evening, miss,’ whispered Sykes.

  ‘Right,’ hissed Vaughan, suddenly returning to his senses. ‘Let’s keep moving.’

  Four hundred yards on, they found another small hollow in the ground and paused. The town seemed as quiet as ever; barely anything stirring.

  ‘I always said this was the way to do it,’ said Vaughan. ‘Infiltration of just a handful of troops. Anyway, we should get back to the MTB. We’ve done what we came for. We’ve got Apollo.’

  ‘What about sabotage?’ said Farrer.

  Tanner turned to Tanja. ‘Where are they taking all the fuel that’s just come in?’

  ‘It is divided into different dumps, but the biggest is just below the escarpment in an old quarry. It is perhaps a kilometre from Fort Solaro, just to the north of one of the landing grounds.’

  ‘So that’s about two miles south of here. Four miles from the coast, another mile or so to Allenby. That’s the best part of six miles to cover.’

  ‘Yes, but we got Tanja out far quicker than we’d imagined,’ said Tanner. ‘Look, sir, we’ve got a load of explosives, and if we can get that fuel dump it’ll be a hell of a good job done. We all know that fuel is the one thing Rommel needs above all.’

  ‘Why don’t we get ourselves on one of those lorries?’ suggested Farrer. ‘Then we’ll get a ride straight to the dump.’

  ‘We could use time pencils,’ said Sykes. ‘Set them for a couple of hours hence, which would give us plenty of time to get away.’

  Vaughan thought a moment. ‘Farrer, you take Tanner, de Villiers, Sykes, McInnes and Ferguson. The rest of us will get back to the MTB.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s a quarter to nine. Let’s say an hour to reach the dump, half an hour to set the HE, then two and a half hours to get back. That’s four hours, so one o’clock – that’ll give us five hours of darkness, which means we should be beyond Mersa by then. Make sure you’re back by one o’clock. Understood?’

  *

  They reached the town without incident, making their way quietly and carefully down the hill, away from the hospital, the villas and blockhouses and towards the gentle curve at the end of the harbour. It was no wonder, Tanner thought, that Stirling’s men, the LRDG and others had been having such successes. The desert was so vast and the enemy could not be everywhere all the time. Tobruk was three hundred miles behind the front line. Of course, as an important port, it needed to be well defended with guns, but anti-aircraft gunners were hardly expected to be the trained élite of the German and Italian armies, and in any case, most were positioned on the headland above the town or atop the escarpment, half a mile to the south of the town. Nor was the town throbbing with troops. They were needed at the front. Most of those around the ships were B Echelon – the support troops who unloaded ships, took supplies to the front and protected the airfields. In any case, they wouldn’t be billeted here, in this Godforsaken spot where they could be bombed and blasted to hell.

  Tobruk had almost ceased to be a town at all, its buildings mostly reduced to rubble. The old British garrison had extended in a wide arc some ten miles from the sea, surrounded by wire, a minefield and gun positions. The town was small – Tanner imagined it had been little more than a sleepy fishing village before the Italians had arrived and built the hospital, the church and the military buildings around the harbour.

  They picked their way over the rubble, dodging a light ack-ack gun and a searchlight manned by Italians, then making their way along the remains of a ruined street, past smashed and twisted cars and other vehicles. They clambered on to the rubble-strewn rise overlooking the quayside to watch the unloading.

  The two ships were moored toe to tail. The men were operating almost entirely in darkness, although flashlights were flickering and a few dim oil lamps lined the quayside. Men were calling out to one another, the sounds distinct on the still night air.

  A convoy of trucks now drove towards the port from the south, eventually coming to a halt so that they faced back the way they had come, with the increasingly large numbers of fuel barrels to one side of them. The derricks along the harbour’s edge continued to delve into the ships’ holds, then swing large pallets on to the quayside. Now that more trucks had arrived, swarms of men descended on the stocks building at the harbour’s edge. Planks were laid from the tailgate to the ground, and the barrels rolled on to ropes. From the body of the trucks, several men pulled on the ropes while others pushed from behind un
til each barrel was safely on board and moved into position.

  It was a laborious, time-consuming business, and Tanner was conscious that precious minutes were passing. Already it was twenty to ten.

  ‘We need to get a move on,’ whispered Sykes next to him.

  ‘Just wait a minute, Stan,’ said Tanner, who was rolling a plan of action in his mind. A few minutes later, loading of the lead vehicle was finished and he saw the driver edge it forward along the quay and stop. Good lad. Turning to Farrer, he said, ‘I’ve an idea.’

  Having made their way down to the western end of the harbour, they waited in the shadows as the loaded trucks came forward and halted in turn. They could hear the drivers getting down and talking to one another. Cigarettes were lit. Occasional laughter and a throaty guffaw. Unlike the men loading the barrels, the drivers seemed to be German, rather than Italians. Even better.

  ‘Sir,’ whispered Sykes, in Tanner’s ear. ‘What about causing a bit of mayhem around here?’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘I could set the time pencils on green.’

  ‘How long’s that?’

  ‘Five hours.’

  Farrer agreed. ‘But you need to move quickly,’ he said. ‘They’re loading the fifth truck now.’

  Sykes disappeared.

  ‘Will he be all right on his own?’ Farrer whispered.

  ‘He’ll be fine. He’s very light on his feet, is Sykes.’

  It was half an hour later that Sykes reappeared, just as the eighth truck finished loading and moved forward. ‘That was easy enough,’ he said. ‘They’re all making such a racket down there it was easy to move about. I put a packet on one of the derricks and another next to the ack-ack gun at the end of the quay. Should cause a few headaches.’