Tomb of the Lost (41 page)

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Authors: Julian Noyce

BOOK: Tomb of the Lost
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There were embarrassed shuffles of feet. Schwann looked up into the sentry tower. Three times the height of a man. The sentry leaning to one side of his protective sandbags. The muzzle of his MG42 clearly visible.


What about you?


Yes Herr Captain.


Well come down here and open the gate.


Yawohl Herr Captain.

He descended the ladder leaving his tower unattended.

Alf felt a surge of excitement. This was the tower with the blind spot. He suddenly had visions of walking out of the gate a free man. If only it could be that easy. The guard fumbled with the lock and swung the gate open just as the small aeroplane flew overhead. It was flying so low it got everyone

s attention. It had at first flown over the hospital with its main tent white with German markings and a huge red cross sown onto the canvas. There were other smaller white tents that Von Brockhorst could see and then various other desert camouflaged tents for supplies and quarters for the doctors and personnel. Then they had flown over barracks tents. Then lastly they had now just flown over the tents containing the P.O.W.s surrounded by barbed wire.

As Von Brockhorst looked down he could see that there had been a football match in progress. He could see that the gate was being opened in anticipation of his arrival.


That

s efficiency,

he said to himself

But how did they know I was coming?

Von Brockhorst was not making a scheduled stop.

From his side Kleber could see that the football had been kicked out of bounds which was probably why the gate was being opened. He banked the aeroplane, did a one eighty, and descended touching down gently on the desert floor. He brought the plane to a halt and shut the engine off. Captain Schwann blew his whistle and waved his arms to signify that the match was over. The English players cheered and some of the Germans made obscene gestures.


This isn

t over,

Schwann said to Alf, pointing a finger in his face.


As you wish sir.

Schwann about turned and quickly strode over to the chair where his shirt and jacket were hanging. He had no idea who was in the Storch.


But this had better be bloody good.

He quickly buttoned up his shirt but left his jacket undone. He ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down and walked out of the open gate. The Fiesler Storch was a couple of hundred metres away. Schwann could see two pairs of legs, their top halves hidden by the plane.


Have the plane ready to leave as soon as I return.

Kleber clicked his heels together and saluted.


Yes Herr General.

Von Brockhorst placed his leather hat onto his head and pulled it down to his favoured position. He reached into the plane and took his briefcase, placing it under one arm as he slipped on his elegant leather officers gloves. It wasn

t that his hands were cold. Von Brockhorst just enjoyed the finer things in life. Schwann stepped around the front of the plane and saw Kleber first.


What is the purpose of this?

he stopped as Von Brockhorst turned to face him.

Your pardon Herr General.

Von Brockhorst looked at him. The jacket undone, no cap, dusty trousers and boots. Not exactly the model officer. Then he reminded himself of how hard these men

s lives were. The conditions, the lack of facilities. Death never far away. Schwann began to apologise for the way he was dressed.


I apologise General. We were not expecting you. I was

. That is we were playing football sir. It

s a good way for my men to get much needed exercise and it lifts the morale of the prisoners.


No apology is necessary Captain. On the contrary I think it

s a grand idea. Tell me who won?


The thing is sir we were doing really well and we

.


The British won didn

t they.

Schwann nodded.


Yes sir.


Well they are to be congratulated. And for you Captain.


Sir?


Sometimes it is good for a man to lose. It makes winning next time more enjoyable. Men learn from mistakes.


Yes sir.


When you play them again your desire to win and that of your team will be greater.


Yes Herr General.

Von Brockhorst was pleased with this and he let it show in his face.


Now Captain I

ll inspect your facilities if you please.


Of course sir I

d be delighted to show you,

Schwann replied buttoning up his jacket.

The General led the way with the Captain barely able to keep up at first.


Who is it Alf?

Burroughs asked.


One of their Generals I think.


It

s not Rommel is it.


No not Rommel. I know him. I wonder if this is the new General, what was his name, Von Becker or something.


Von Brockhorst,

Johnny said.


Von Brockhorst,

Alf repeated

Von Arnim

s second in command.


Christ,

Johnny Larder said

What the hell does he want here with us?


Don

t know,

Alf replied

But I think we

re about to find out. Look lively he

s coming this way. Attention!

The British P.O.W.

s lined up as best they could for the visiting General. For some of them it was the first General they had ever seen. It didn

t matter that it was a German one. On this day they stood tall and proud. As one they saluted Von Brockhorst. Alf stood with his chest out, his arms pressed neatly by his sides. His shoulder was agony and masking the pain he gritted his teeth and with tight lips he brought his left hand up and saluted smartly. Von Brockhorst was very impressed by this Englishman of low rank and he returned the salute and held it for a few moments thus honouring the young P.O.W.


I understand congratulations are in order,

Von Brockhorst said finally after lowering his hand.


Yes sir.


At ease.

The British relaxed their pose.


I understand that your team beat the German team in a game of football. Well done to you all.

A cheer went up from the assembled.


I have a message from Field Marshall Erwin Rommel which I will now read to you.

Von Brockhorst opened his case, took out a sealed letter, opened it and began to read.


From German high command Afrika Korps,

he read the relevant bits and then spoke.


The Field Marshall apologises for the conditions here, however soon you are to be moved

.

Every P.O.W. felt his ears prick up at this

Moved. Moved?

they asked themselves. Now he had their full attention.


You are to be moved to a British Military Hospital in Tunis.

Von Brockhorst folded the letter and handed it to Schwann. Schwann stared at it open mouthed. The British P.O.W.s erupted into a roar.


Which is currently held by the axis powers,

Von Brockhorst shouted over the crowd. Their cries turned to despondency.

Schwann re-read the directive. There was no mistaking it. The entire field hospital was being moved North . He was pleased, a smile spread across his face. He looked at his surroundings. Desert. He thought about Tunis. Formerly French owned. The officers no doubt would stay in the luxury hotels, clean beds, clean towels, hot running water. Right now it sounded like a dream, paradise.

Von Brockhorst stayed with the prisoners for another minute and then accompanied by Schwann he moved on inspecting the sentry tower first, even sighting down the barrel of the MG42 and talking to the guard who was keen to show him his range of view. Once finished they moved inside to inspect the hospital facilities. Kahler was left in charge of clearing up the football pitch. He pointed a huge finger at Johnny Larder.


You go and get the ball.

Johnny shrugged and went for it.


And if you try anything funny I

ll have you shot.

Johnny waited until Kahler was no longer looking at him before he gave the V sign. Alf was looking up at the wooden tower. When Von Brockhorst had descended the ladder with Schwann the sentry had waited until they had disappeared and he had quietly crept down and was now having a sneaky cigarette. He came over to Alf and spoke to him about the game.


I must admit I thought your team played very well.


Thank you,

Alf replied.

The German offered Alf the cigarette to puff on.


No thank you,

Alf said craving the Nicotine but knowing it would be unwise with his injured lung. The German shrugged, drew on the cigarette until it was almost finished, then threw it to the ground and crushed it with his boot. He nodded at Alf and having a quick look around to make sure he was safe headed back towards the ladder. Alf watched him go. Then he turned to look at Johnny approaching the football, outside the compound now. No one was watching Larder. Alf glanced at the sentry, he would reach the ladder soon.

With his heart thumping in his chest Alf crossed to the tent where he knew the tower couldn

t see him. He felt almost giddy but he checked once more. The guard was just pulling himself onto the wooden platform atop the ladder. Johnny was almost at the football. Alf shoved his hands deep into his pockets, put his head down and set off walking as quickly as he could towards Larder, expecting at any second a whistle, a shout or worse a bullet. Then when he was halfway to Larder he took his hands out of his pockets and ran. He ran as if the devil himself was after him. Larder was aware of someone running up behind him and as he started to turn Alf grabbed him by the arm and shoved him forward.


Run Johnny Run!

Johnny tried to resist.


Alf what are you doing?


Run! Do exactly as I say.

Alf ran past him looking back over his shoulder to make sure Johnny was there. He was. Another quick glance revealed that so far they were undetected. When they got to the aeroplane Alf shoved Johnny to the front.


You go round that way.

Johnny put his hands out.


Alf what are we doing?


We

re taking the plane.


What!


No time to discuss it. Go!

Johnny did as he was told. Alf went around to the tail and crept along the body. Kleber was at the front checking the oil level.


Here what do you want?

he asked Larder, slightly startled. Alf tapped Kleber on the shoulder and as he turned Alf landed the punch. It had the desired effect. Alf caught the German pilot and lowered him gently to the ground. Kleber was out cold. Johnny was watching Alf. He could hardly believe this was happening.


Johnny check on the camp. Is anyone coming after us?

Alf quickly positioned Kleber

s inert form near the wheels where he hopefully wouldn

t be so conspicuous.

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