by Julian Noyce
One of the boats.
“….Until now,” he continued looking down at the port with its warehouses, its deserted landing strip nearby. Sand beaches stretching away both North and South.
“Our mission is to enter the town and mop up any resistance left.”
His men began to get excited at the prospect of action last. They began murmuring amongst themselves. Alf and Johnny felt it too.
“Their only escape is by sea now. If we can get to their boats and take them we have the port.”
The men wanted to cheer but knew they couldn’t. Even at this distance the Germans may hear.
“We will take our vehicles down to this spot here,” Rushton showed them on the map, “Which is there,” he pointed to the West of Gabes.
“What strength of resistance can we expect Sir?” Doyle asked.
“There are sentry posts scattered all around the dock. These appear to be unmanned. Nevertheless Doyle I want you and your group to take these one by one. As you take them move on to the next. The strength of the enemy is not known, unable to guess at numbers. Their strongest firepower will undoubtedly be the boats. We need to take them. The submarine we will probably be unable to take. We don’t know if the crew are on board. We can assume that at least some of them will be. Whether it will be enough to sail her, I don’t know. Be warned men if she is able to fire off torpedoes, well you can only imagine the devastation that could cause. The only good thing is they are unlikely to fire with those boats directly in front of them. They are too close. To fire directly into them would undoubtedly damage the sub severely. The warehouses nearest to the sub were known to contain fuel. How much has been successfully evacuated is anyone’s guess. No doubt the Germans have charges placed on that fuel. We must, if we can, try to stop them from detonating it.”
“What about those other ships Sir?”
“Those are merchant vessels carrying supplies and are not armed. Their crews are also merchant sailors, probably Italians or North Africans and will probably not fight back. If you encounter them take no chances, there maybe zealots amongst them and this is a war. Put yourselves first as always.”
“If they try to escape Sir?”
“Leave them! Concentrate on the Germans only. The merchant ships are certainly not ready to sail as we speak and will not be able to get away quickly. When push comes to shove they may well change sides and work for our lot. Who knows with foreign sailors. They will no doubt work for whichever side they think will profit them most.”
“So they’re one step above pirates,” Johnny said.
“Mercenaries,” Rushton replied.
Johnny looked down at the harbour. He could imagine it in peace time. When warships were replaced by fishing boats.
“You will also come across civilians, townspeople. They have been under German occupation for three years. The locals don’t really care who occupies them. They would gain from both sides and unlike in parts of Europe they have not suffered at the hands of Rommel’s army. Some may try to help you, some may not. Mostly they should stay impartial and will probably stand by and do nothing. Certainly most will be in their homes but if you encounter them be on your guard. Lieutenant Dennis….”
“Yes Sir.”
“I want you to take a small detachment and disable those boats. As many as you can. Once Doyle has taken the first of the guard posts you move with him and get to those boats. Disable their engines for now but not to a point of where you can’t repair them. We may need them ourselves. Sergeant Larder I want you to take five men and get into that fuel depot. The rest of you with me will sweep through the town and take the German headquarters. This should be pretty much deserted. From there we will signal the advance to General’s Tuker and Horrocks. Any questions?”
Alf knew the answer to this already but felt he needed to ask.
“You haven’t mentioned prisoners.”
“We won’t be taking prisoners Lieutenant.”
Rushton stopped the vehicles at the point they were to leave them. He had now changed into all black. Silently they walked the mile into Gabes town. Alf looked up at the sky. There were many clouds now, the stars , where they could be seen appearing like pinpricks. The men of Rushton’s unit walked quickly on both sides of the road saying nothing. Two had been left behind with the vehicles. At the first sign of danger they were to get into a Jeep, release flares and get out as quickly as they could. The vehicles were well hidden though and Rushton hoped that he wouldn’t see flares on this night. He was in the lead, Doyle opposite him.
The road they were on was well used. The wind in the daytime had pushed sand across it and Rushton could see that they were leaving footprints. He hoped there were no patrols tonight. There probably wouldn’t be. As he’d studied Gabes through his binoculars he could see that almost all the Germans had already fled.
Rushton suddenly stopped and signalled the others to. They all stood motionless watching the man in front. Nervously they began to look around. Rushton stayed still, his fist raised to keep his men from moving. Rushton had stopped at the sound. Doyle heard it too. Now so did some of the others. Alf cocked his head, listening.
It was a sound that was distorted , no doubt affected by the mountains. Then Alf identified it and made his way quickly to Rushton.
“It’s a Spitfire Sir,” he whispered.
“It sounds strange. Must be the mountains.”
“It’s a long way away. May even be out at sea.”
Rushton listened for a few moments more. He could hear the change of the engine tone as the plane flew into the mountains.
“Move out,” he ordered giving the signal.
Lights appeared in the bend behind them. Johnny, the last man in the group saw them.
He whistled.
Rushton turned around angrily.
’Who was that bloody idiot whistling!’
He saw the lights and gestured frantically with his arm.
“Off the road. Everyone off the road.”
The S.A.S men fled, taking cover behind rocks, trees, bushes, any bit of scrub available to them. They lay in wait all watching the road.
’Our vehicles can’t have been discovered,’ they were thinking, ’There has been no alarm’
Rushton expected flares to rocket into the night sky at any second. Their cover blown but mercifully none came.
The hiding men shrank even deeper as the two motorcycle sidecars drew up to a stop. The motorcyclists were talking to each other. Now one was looking to his left, the other to his right. Then one of them dismounted.
British fingers tightened on British triggers.
Johnny watched in horror as the German nearest him began walking towards him. Slowly he raised his gun barrel. Next to him was a grizzled veteran, Tosh Wilkes.
“Easy lad, easy. Don’t do anything hasty. There may be more of them coming,” Wilkes whispered into Johnny’s ear.
The German lit a cigarette and for a second they saw his features in the flare of the match. Just an ordinary, normal, young man, much like everyone else and for the first time Johnny realised that he actually didn’t want to kill him. The German came even closer. Tosh pushed the gun barrel down into the sand, his other hand pulled Johnny’s finger off the trigger with a strength that amazed Larder.
They could smell the man’s cigarette smoke.
Johnny’s gun barrel scraped on a stone. It was only a subtle noise but to them it sounded like an explosion.
Corporal Ralf Klum undid his holster and pulled out his side arm. He held it pointing forwards at hip height. It was so dark he couldn’t see very far which was unusual. He could only make out shapes. The edge of some scrub was not far in front of him. He moved towards it.
Johnny and Tosh held their breath. The German was barely three feet from them. The shadows caused by the bushes fell on them and blended them in. Very slowly Tosh reached down his leg and unsheathed his knife. It slithered out without a sound. He brought it up until it was in front of his face. T
he blade was blue and wouldn’t glint. Tosh readied himself. He would bring the German down and knife him. Johnny felt a cold sweat run down his back. He couldn’t remember ever being so scared. The German put his gun away. They heard noises, a kind of ruffling. Then a splattering sound. Johnny felt his face being hit by something. He closed his eyes to it. The German was peeing over the bush. It was spattering off the sand and into their faces. Although it was cold by the time it hit him he could feel its burn.
Now all he could think of was killing the German he had regarded only moments ago.
The other German called out to his friend who answered back over his shoulder.
More lights were appearing around the bend.
Klum finished urinating, took a last pull of his cigarette and flicked it, still burning, into the bush. It landed on Johnny’s back. Klum made his way back to his motorcycle just as the Mercedes saloon drew up. Colonel Hans Koenig stepped out onto the road. Tosh quickly removed the burning cigarette butt from Larder’s back.
“Why have you stopped?” Koenig asked them.
“We thought we saw something Herr Colonel,” the British heard the reply.
“What did you see?” Koenig peered into the dark.
“When we rounded the bend I thought I saw figures on the road.”
“Figures. What sort of figures?”
“I didn’t see them for long enough. It looked like it was men Sir.”
Koenig peered into the dark. He couldn’t see a thing and didn’t want to investigate. More wasted time would only infuriate the Doctor.
Alf was sure he’d seen the elegant officer before but couldn’t place where. All English eyes were watching. Doyle had been ready with a silenced pistol. The trucks were now clearing the bend. Everyone waited with weapons cocked. Someone called out from the back seat of the saloon. The officer answered and the window was closed.
“It was animals or nomads,” Koenig told his men, “Now get moving.”
He strode for the car. The motorcycles were kick started and they roared off.
Rushton and his men waited until the convoy was safely out of sight before returning to the road.
“What was that all about Sir?” Doyle asked.
“I don’t know. But whatever those trucks were carrying, it will be the last things they get out of Gabes.”
They made the outskirts of town without any other incidents. The first of the houses, square, one storied, came into view. They raced to them, covering the ground quickly and as quietly as they could. Alf was breathing hard, his injured shoulder aching. He took cover at the corner of a wall. His fingers on his injured arm were tingling and he flexed them repeatedly to help.
Rushton waited for the last of his men to catch up. He gave them a minute to gain their breath while he studied the way forward.
Suddenly a wooden shutter opened.
Everyone froze!
A child’s face was peering out of a ground floor window directly in front of Tosh. The child began smiling. Tosh raised a finger to his lips.
“Sshhh!”
He felt into his pockets and pulled out a bar of chocolate. He held it up to the child’s face. In the moonlight he saw the little girl’s face light up. Suddenly her father’s face appeared above hers. He stared wide eyed at Tosh’s face. Then he saw the offered chocolate. He took it, nodded, and pulled his daughter away from the window. He took one last look at Tosh and reached out and pulled the shutters to. Tosh turned his back to the wall and sank down it slowly. He sighed with relief.
‘That had been close!’
Rushton crept over.
“Alright?”
“Bloody hell sir. I thought they were going to give us away.”
“Let’s hope they don’t. Come on Tosh get yourself together,” Rushton put a hand on Wilkes shoulder “Move out.”
Doyle looked again through the binoculars. He was at the corner of a house on the main road into Gabes. Ahead by some four hundred yards or so was the first of the German watchtowers. He had been watching for the last ten minutes. There had been a guard up there. Five minutes ago someone had descended the ladder. From where he remained hidden Doyle had seen that the man had had his rifle over his shoulder. The post now had appeared deserted for the last five minutes. Doyle checked again for signs of life. There appeared to be none. Behind him his group waited patiently. He gave them the signal to move forward. Then he saw the German helmet and then the remaining guard. He frantically gave his men the signal to halt and gestured for them to move back. The German had stopped and was staring in their direction.
’Had he seen them?’
Doyle felt his heart pounding. It would be terrible to be discovered now. This mission had felt doomed from the beginning. He continued to watch the German, who hadn’t moved and was staring down the street at their position. Doyle felt sure the man was staring straight down the binoculars, straight into his eyes. He slowly took them away and put them down. He put his hand out to the man next to him who handed him the scoped Lee Enfield rifle. Doyle put the scope to his eye and adjusted the sights. He pulled his eye away and put it back again.
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.