El Alamein

El Alamein


THE THIRD DANNY SHAW / MANFRED BREHME TANK NOVEL
Jack Murray


Table of Contents
El Alamein
Copyright © 2021 by Jack Murray& J Murray
Jackmurray99@hotmail.com
Part 1: Operation Theseus
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Part 2: The Gazala Gallop
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
Part 3: El Alamein
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
Research Notes
A Note from the Author
About the Authors


Copyright © 2021 by Jack Murray& J Murray
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed ‘Attention: Permissions Coordinator,’ at the address below.
Jackmurray99@hotmail.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is either purely coincidental or used in a fictitious manner.


Part 1: Operation Theseus
31st Dec 1941 – Jan 1941
Operation Crusader has come to an end. Although Crusader had failed in its original objective of crushing the Axis forces, the 8th Army had, at least, pushed the Axis forces back some 500 miles (805 km) to El Agheila in western Libya. The Axis garrisons at Bardia and Sollum in Eastern Libya had surrendered but the cost had been high for both sides. The Allies lost 17,700 men, the Axis around 37,000. Tobruk had been relieved, Cyrenaica recaptured along with many airfields captured to cover convoys supplying Malta.
 
The armies of both sides were exhausted and winter has set in. However, from late December, the impact of bombing the Allied-held island of Malta began to tell. Malta had been a thorn in the side of the Axis throughout the war. Damaging the island’s capacity to attack Axis convoys meant that more reinforcements were getting through to the Axis-held Tripoli. Meanwhile, the 8th Army supply lines were badly stretched and their forces dispersed across hundreds of miles in the western Libya desert.


1
New Year’s Eve, 1941
A couple of hours after sunrise on New Year’s Eve, the enemy was already tearing into Danny Shaw. This enemy was more numerous, more relentless, and crueller than the Germans. It never surrendered and came back each day, every damn minute, undeterred by the anger of their victim, unvanquished by the violence inflicted upon it; immune to the hatred and the vitriol directed towards it.
‘Feckin flies,’ said Gerry ‘Fitz’ Fitzgerald, echoing Danny’s thoughts. The flies were an ongoing torment for friend and foe alike. ‘Whatever possessed anyone to fight a feckin’ war in this God-forsaken place I’ll never know. Militant little bastards.’
‘At least you know how your old editor felt,’ observed Danny. He’d heard countless stories from the former newspaperman of his run-ins with his boss with whom he worked on the local newspaper in Galway.
‘Shush, you two, I can see Jerry coming now,’ said Sergeant Adam Gray, squinting through a pair of binoculars.
All Danny could see was a mid-morning haze. It made his eyes water to stare at the horizon too long. The presence of the enemy had the usual impact on the men crouched behind the slope of the wadi overlooking the road leading to Agedabia in western Libya. Finally, he saw some shapes emerge from the shimmering haze. It was too far for him to tell if it was friend or foe. He turned to Gray.
‘What are they, sarge?’
Gray waited a moment before replying, ‘Might be part of the supply echelon. Let’s hope so anyway. I don’t fancy tangling with any Panzers today.’ He might have added “any day”. They were not equipped to deal with tanks. The job of the Jock Column was harassment. Direct confrontation with heavy armour was not recommended.
Danny glanced at their six-pound guns. They were dug into the side of the ridge; impossible to see from the road. Alongside them on the ridge was a battalion of infantry and a number of mortars. All was still. No one moved, not even to swat the malignant plague of flies that buzzed unwelcome around each soldier. Some held their breath.
Danny felt a tap on his shoulder. It was John Buller, the gunner. He nodded towards the shells. Nothing was said. Slowly Danny ducked down and lifted one of the shells. Behind him he sensed someone clambering up the slope.
Keeping his eyes on the road, Sergeant Gray said to the new arrival, ‘It’s definitely a German supply column, sir. They’ll be here in two minutes.’
‘Very good, sergeant,’ said Lieutenant Blair. ‘Make ready, gentlemen.’
Danny levered the breech open and heaved the cartridge into the jacket of the barrel. He closed the block quickly. Meanwhile, Buller was adjusting the aim.
‘One minute, wait until we can see all of the echelon. Don’t fire until they are completely side on. Wait for the order,’ added Blair unnecessarily. ‘Pass it along.’
The instruction passed along the line.
Then silence.
Gradually the hum of the convoy became louder. An endless line of trucks. There were no tanks. The column snaked along the desert road watched by a hundred pairs of eyes.
‘Let’s give Jerry a little present for New Year,’ said Blair to no one in particular.
Danny held his breath and looked across the ridge. Dozens of bodies lay against the face of the slope. Waiting. The sound of the motor convoy grew louder.
‘Wait for it,’ said Blair. His eyes were no longer on the echelon driving near them but on Captain Arnott nearby who had his hand up.
Despite the fact that they were in the middle of the desert, Danny felt a chill descend on him like a curtain. For the last month he’d been involved in a number of these ambushes. He shivered from the cold but there was excitement, too. A voice nearby said, ‘Nearly there. Come on, Fritz. Get a move on.’
Danny smiled. That used to be what Tom would say to him every morning before they went