Tomb of the Lost

by Julian Noyce

  Alf jumped up out of his seat.

  “That’s not true Sir. We are not….”

  Doyle came forward and grabbed Alf by the arms, restraining him.

  “Sergeant Dennis. It is my duty to remind you that we serve in the king’s army and that we are gentlemen. Please try to act like one. This insubordination is wholly unacceptable. If you continue to behave in this manner I shall have no alternative to place you under arrest and refer you to a higher command for trial.”

  Alf went limp in Doyle’s arms. The fight gone out of him now.”

  “I’m sorry Sir. I’ve just been through a lot lately.”

  “That’s no excuse. Try to act like a professional.”

  “I’m sorry Sir.”

  Doyle released his grip.

  “We have all been through a lot sergeant. Doyle here has recently lost his brother. My home in Coventry was recently bombed. My wife and children barely got out alive. It was two months before I found out.”

  Alf stood humbled.

  “Now please retake your seat.”

  Alf sat.

  “I’m trying to help you. I am not your executioner sergeant. No. You will hang yourself unless you tell me what I need to know.”

  “Where shall I begin Sir?”

  “In the beginning.”

  ’Where shall I start,” Alf was asking himself “Does he want to know about my parents, grandparents? They were just ordinary people. My father served in the navy but he died when I was small. Ordinary lives. Nothing much to tell.’ Alf decided to tell Rushton about himself. ’If he wants to know the rest he’ll ask.’

  “Before the war I was a carpenter. None of my family before, had been. I was just naturally talented. Then of course like many I was called up for national service, did my basic training. Then I was enlisted into the Royal Engineers because of my skills. I first saw action in North Africa as part of the eighth army. My unit was sent to Matmata here in Tunisia to repair a heavily damaged road. You see, a column of Valentine tanks had left the road because of its condition and driven through a Wadi when it had started raining. It rained hard through October and the tanks had become bogged down. My unit and I were sent in to repair the road and aid the stricken tanks if possible. We arrived in the town and almost instantly found two dead German infantrymen with their throats cut shoved down a well. We quizzed a local who told us that a group of British had passed through and found the two Germans. We were told they wore uniforms with S.A.S on them. I assume that it was members of your team,” Alf said smiling.

  Rushton stared back coldly.

  “I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly comment. Do go on.”

  The cold hostility shook Alf.

  ‘What the hell does he want from me? Aren’t we fighting for the same side?’

  “Well shortly after the S.A.S left a convoy of Germans came through the town. The two were caught and murdered by their own side. Like I said we arrived and discovered them. Then unbelievably that very afternoon we were fired upon by two American fighters and took some casualties.”

  “How bad?”

  “Some wounded. A few killed. I lost a very close friend.”

  Rushton gave Alf a moment.

  “Could I have some water please Sir.”

  “Of course. Doyle if you would oblige.”

  Doyle left and was back shortly with the drink. Alf took a swig. His throat becoming parched.

  “Then our reserves arrived. There were a group from the 4th Indian army led by a Major Basil Shaw. They had been sent to clear mines.”

  Alf took another sip of water.

  “It wasn’t long before the German’s returned Sir. There was a large explosion out of town. I sent a truck to investigate. Well it was the Germans Sir. There followed a gun fight and we lost many men. Mostly the Indians. Shaw was killed, private Larder, who is a marksman, was hit by a Panzerschreck. I myself was hit by a sniper.”

  Alf began to unbutton his shirt to show the wound. Though Rushton had already briefly once seen the injury he allowed Alf to show it again.

  “I see,” he said “So you were hit from the front.”

  “Yes,” Alf swivelled on his chair and pulled his shirt off his shoulders. The scar at the back was four times the size of the one at the front.

  “It was a sniper. Private Larder killed him before he was hit. I was lucky Sir. The bullet narrowly missed my lung.”

  “And you say Private Larder was hit by a Panzerschrek. It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed.”

  “It exploded by a wall next to his head. The scarring he has is from mortar and brick shards. He is very lucky to be alive Sir.”

  “Yes I can’t deny that you’ve both been through a lot. Please continue.”

  “The Germans rounded us all up. There was a Colonel of army and a Major of SS. The Major was going to hang Larder despite our protests. Then suddenly, miraculously, more Germans arrived. Tanks this time, and a saloon car and incredibly out stepped Field Marshall Erwin Rommel Sir.”

  Rushton, who had been leaning back in his chair looking up at the ceiling, trying to picture the scene now suddenly sprang forward as his chair came down on all four legs.

  “Field Marshall Rommel?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “The supreme commander of the German forces North Africa division.”

  “The very one.”

  Rushton nodded while jutting out his chin.

  “Impressive. What did he do or say?”

  “Naturally he took control instantly. He declared us all prisoners of war. If it wasn’t for him I’m sure the SS Major would have killed us all.”

  “So you are saying you were saved by the Field Marshall.”

  “Yes Sir I strongly believe that.”

  “Incredible soldier. Remarkable man.”

  Alf finished the water.

  “More?”

  “Yes please.”

  Doyle took the empty flask. Now Alf and Rushton were alone.

  “So then you were detained?”

  “Yes German field hospital no4.”

  “I know of it.”

  “We were held there until we escaped.”

  “First tell me about the camp and hospital, its strengths, weaknesses, just about everything you can think of, anything you feel will help me in my job. Perhaps later you’d be kind enough to tell me about your escape.”

  “Of course Sir.”

  “What was the camp like? Its size. Those that guarded it. Its defences. Locale.”

  Rushton took a clean sheet of paper and a pencil and wrote the date at the top. Then he began to take notes.

  “The camp had been hastily constructed and consisted of tents for the P.O.W.s surrounded by barbed wire. There was one sentry tower which covered the main gate with a single MG42. You see Sir there wasn’t any need for much more than that. Even if you could escape there was only desert to run into. Nowhere to hide. The Germans would catch you so easily and kill you on sight. The hospital which was also just tents was segregated from the P.O.W.s by more barbed wire. We were treated well. Both our time in hospital and as a P.O.W. though naturally we weren’t given the same rations as the German forces. We were kept in a weakened state so that we couldn’t rise up against them….” Alf noticed a slight look of impatience flicker across Rushtons face. Rushton opened his mouth to speak but a thought hit Alf.

  “Perhaps Sir I could draw you the camp, its plans, you know an overhead, birds eye view.”

  “Good idea. I’ll get you paper and pencils, later if you please.”

  “Yes Sir. May I ask Private larder to help me Sir. He may remember something I have forgotten.”

  “After I’ve interviewed him. If his story is the same as yours. Now please tell me about your escape.”

  Some of we English were trying to exercise one day when someone got hold of an old football and we had a kick about. The Indians were intrigued, you see their game sir is cricket….”

  Rushton smiled. He was a cricketing man. He pla
yed for his local village. He found himself drifting off, thinking of warm sunny Sunday afternoons on the field, batting, the Pavilion, cucumber sandwiches and Champagne, the sound of leather on willow.

  “The Indians wanted to learn football so we played them, they lost heavily. So we split the teams. English and Indians mixed, the sides being more equal….”

  Rushton put up a hand to stop him.

  “Can we get to where you escaped.”

  “I’m just coming to that Sir.”

  Doyle returned and offered Alf the fresh flask.

  “Suddenly the camp commandant wanted to play. Us against the Germans. Well I just knew it was an excuse for them to knock us about. Rough us up a bit Sir. But the men they wanted to play. The Germans played dirty all right but we were winning. It was now that the aeroplane that you found us in appeared.”

  Rushton perked up at this, the cricket forgotten, this was what he wanted to hear.

  “The ball got kicked out over the fence as the plane touched down and out stepped General von Brockhorst.”

  Rushton raised his eyebrows at the storyteller.

  “Hans von Brockhorst?”

  Alf shrugged.

  “I suppose so.”

  “On his own?”

  “Yes.”

  “No fighter escort?”

  “None sir.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He told us that we were being transferred. Then he went to inspect the facility….” Alf began laughing “While he was gone I grabbed Larder and went for the ball. The Germans were so dumbfounded that their second in command had come for a visit that no one closed the gate. We literally walked out. No one saw us at first. I expected a shout or bullets but thank God none came. Johnny knocked out the pilot and….”

  “Then who flew the plane?”

  “I did sir.”

  “You?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’re a pilot?” Rushton said scribbling notes.

  “I’m not a pilot. One of the Indians in hospital showed me how to fly.”

  “One of the Indians….? How? With what? How did he learn to fly?”

  “I’m not sure Sir. But he showed me. We used pallet blocks for our feet and brush handles for controls. It’s really quite easy Sir, obviously my knowledge of flying is extremely limited,” Alf continued not sure about Rushton’s expression.

  “It’s absolutely incredible. What do you say Doyle?”

  “Incredible Sir.”

  “You’re telling me sergeant Dennis that you stole an aeroplane belonging to the number two of the axis powers in North Africa and you got away with it.”

  “For a while Sir.”

  “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” Rushton banged his fist on the table.

  “If I ask Private Larder his story will verify this will it?”

  “Absolutely Sir.”

  “I’m beginning to like you sergeant Dennis,” then Rushton remembered the German, “Who was he?”

  “He was the pilot. We were flying along and suddenly the door flew open and there he was clinging on to the struts.”

  “Oh come now.”

  “It’s true Sir. Well I couldn’t kill him, not like that Sir in cold blood. So I ordered Private Larder to pull him in. At first we didn’t know what to do. Neither of us could speak each others language. I know enough German to get by. It’s funny….” Alf stopped staring into space above Rushton’s right shoulder.

  The Major and his Sergeant exchanged glances.

  “It’s funny Sir but this was the first time that I realised we were fighting a war against men, against real human beings not machines.”

  Rushton understood what Alf meant.’

  “Good let that be a lesson to you! What caused you to crash?”

  “A Spitfire! One of our own. One of our boys doing his job. He hit us twice. The German plane was damaged badly. I was unable to control it. He suddenly stopped firing Sir, I don’t know why. We were unable to defend ourselves. Disabled and he just stopped. Just like that. He could have blown us out of the sky but he chose not to. It didn’t matter, the damage was done. All we had left to do was crash.”

  Alf took a big swig of water.

  “The rest Sir you know.”

  Rushton sat quiet for several minutes. A fly buzzed and settled on the desk. Alf watched it. Very much wishing that he was that fly right now, not a care in the world.

  “What a remarkable story.”

  “It is Sir.”

  “It sounds like the screenplay of one of those American war films.”

  “It’s all perfectly true Sir. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “I believe you. I will speak to Private Larder next,” Rushton got up. Alf sprang to his feet and stood to attention, “In the meantime if you would be good enough to draw the details of the P.O.W. camp, the hospital, any relevant details you can think of, numbers of men held, enemy numbers, anything at all. It would be very much appreciated.”

  “Do I consider it an order Sir?”

  “No. No,” Rushton said “Let’s call it a favour. Sergeant Doyle you may step down.”

  Alf heard the words and understood them. He and Johnny were safe. He brought his right hand up and saluted. Rushton saluted back.

  “Thank you sergeant that will be all for now. I will send for you later.”

  Alf was sitting in the mild afternoon sun sketching on paper details of the hospital and camp. He pencilled in the tents , guard house, latrines, boundaries, guard posts, enemy numbers and of those they guarded. He finished and checked over his work. Then satisfied he took a clean sheet of paper and began sketching details of the desert as he could remember it. Johnny approached from the side. Alf saw him coming out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and smiled.

  “The Major said it was all right for us to talk.”

  “How long did he interrogate you?”

  “A lot less than you. He asked me very direct questions, ideas that he could only have got from you. He seemed very happy with my answers. At one point he asked me if I was all right. I told him my head hurts which it does most days, in fact.”

  Alf studied the scars that had disfigured Johnny’s face.

  “They are looking much better.”

  “Their Doctor, Downing, said he’d seen worse. He thinks they’ll fade over time.”

  “I hope so Johnny.”

  “Me too.”

  Johnny studied Alf’s sketches. Then he grabbed a pencil.

  “Here I think the mountains were bigger…. More like this.”

  “You know I think you’re right. You do some for a while.”

  Johnny began sketching as he remembered it.

  “I saw more because I was looking out of the window. You were too busy flying the plane. It’s a shame Kleber was killed. He wasn’t a bad bloke.”

  “He was all right.”

  “I wonder where he came from. What his home was like. His wife, his family.”

  “Pretty much like everyone else’s I expect. He was probably just keeping himself out of trouble as best he could. Spending his days flying his plane. No where near the front. Safe behind his side’s lines dropping the General off. Never near danger. Always heavily escorted. He probably thought he’d never see any action or signs of danger. His wife was probably more at risk than he was.”

  “They buried him by his plane Alf, I saw them. They got spades and began digging him a hole.”

  “Poor sod. Stuck out here a thousand miles from home.”

  Johnny shuddered at the thought.

  “Not me Alf. I want to be buried where I was born.”

  Alf watched Johnny as he sketched the desert.

  “You’re very good at drawing.”

  “I loved art as school. I wanted to be an artist but my parents owned a farm and I spent all of my time helping them.”

  “I know Johnny. You’ve told me many times before,” Alf said not minding that he’d heard it all befo
re.

  “Do you think Margaret will still love me?” Johnny had tears in his eyes.

  Alf was surprised to see his friend like this.

  “Yes of course she will.”

  Johnny wiped away the tears.

  “I mean when she sees my face,” he lightly touched the scars.

  “Yes of course she will.”

  Alf put his arm around Johnny and hugged him man to man.

  The scars are getting better Johnny. You’re still the man Margaret fell in love with.”

  Johnny dabbed at the tears with his fingertips. He started to laugh out of embarrassment.

  “Look at me. The big, tough, war hero, crying.”

  Two days later a Jeep drove into the camp. It did a large turning circle and pulled up outside Rushton’s tent. The Major came rushing out to greet the new officer. Colonel Thomas Higginbotham stood a head taller than the Major. At six feet six inches and well over two hundred pounds he was an imposing figure. He was also in a hurry. He always did everything as quickly as he could.

  “Good morning Colonel,” Rushton saluted.

  “John how are things going?” Higginbotham asked as they shook hands.

  “Very well Tom.”

  “Are the two engineers around? I will speak to them straight away.”

  “Of course sir. Doyle fetch Sergeant Dennis and Private Larder.”

  Two minutes later Alf and Johnny were standing before Colonel Tom Higginbotham. Rushton sat to the right. Doyle stood behind the engineers. Higginbotham looked the two of them up and down. Rather than tell the two of them to come back looking neater and smarter, he just glared at them and listened without interrupting as they once again told their story. He waited until Alf finished with….

  “….And that’s exactly what happened sir.”

  Higginbotham ran bits of what he’d heard through his mind, finally he turned to Rushton.

  “John.”

  “It’s an incredible story Sir.”

  “Yes. Outstanding soldiering gentlemen! I’ve come from H.Q. General Bernard Montgomery has heard of your story and has read Major Rushton’s report.”

  Both Alf and Johnny stiffened to attention at the mention of Monty’s name.

  “Sergeant Dennis, yourself and Private Larder are to remain with the Long Range Desert Group until your unit can be re-located. Their exact whereabouts is not known at this time, but no matter, you will both be seconded to Major John Rushton here. Major Rushton will provide some tasks for you both. You will assist him in every way possible. Is that understood?”