Tomb of the Lost

Chapter FIFTEEN



Beyond the hills where the planes had circled the land was flat. Here it was blisteringly hot in summer, warm in winter, freezing at night.

Obergefreiter Klaus Stuck was wondering for the umpteenth time how that was possible. He was the lead motorcycle in the convoy, his side car empty. He was the lucky one. He had a clear road ahead of him. He looked into the small round mirrors attached to his handlebars. The first two bikes behind he could see. They were abreast of him but some distance back. Beyond them he couldn’t see the convoy of trucks that were following. They were there though. Carrying the team of archaeologists just arrived from Germany led by the Colonel of the Wehrmacht and the Major of the SS. Both officers travelling in a Mercedes saloon with the Doctor. The anaemic looking man in the white suit.

The Doctor was furious. They had passed through the small village of Matmata four days before and had travelled over two hundred miles from the town only to find they were travelling in the wrong direction. They had come full circle and were now approaching Matmata again.

“It’s just over those next few hills Herr doctor,” the Colonel said.

“That’s provided of course that there are no more mistakes on your army map Herr Colonel,” the Doctor replied sarcastically.

“The map is accurate enough Herr doctor. The Herr Majors map is the same as mine. The problem lies with the British Herr Doctor. They are the ones who have removed all the road signs and to be honest with you, out here in the desert, all the roads look the same.”

“Do you not follow rivers and railroads?”

“What railroads? What rivers? Most rivers here in North Africa run dry during the summer months. Why you could be standing in a dried up river bed right now and not even know it.”

“I have spent most of my adult life in deserts excavating. I could have made the greatest archaeological discovery ever. Carter found it first! Why? Because I took a wrong turn once. Ended up in a dry river bed. It was so vast that we didn’t even know it. We camped there for the night. Then it rained. It quickly became a flash flood that took away three quarters of my team and equipment. I had to wait six weeks for replacements. I would appreciate it gentlemen if these events weren’t repeated here. We are on the brink here Colonel of the greatest archaeological find ever. The tomb of Alexander the great.”

It gave the Doctor an unexplainable shiver. The Colonel felt no emotion. He wished he was back in Berlin.

On the lead motorcycle Stuck shook his head. He was tired. So tired. He had been fighting the war for almost three years. Most of it here in Tunisia.

Then unexpectedly a month ago a new assignment. He was to be part of an escort for a team of archaeologists who would be excavating some distance from the front line fighting which had moved further north.

He couldn’t wait for the war to be over. For whoever to win. He didn’t particularly care which side won, he just wanted to go home. He had joined the army in 1936 because there was no work available in his village on the Rhine near Cologne. As a boy he had driven motorcycles on his grandfathers farm and it was only natural for him to join a motorcycle regiment. He had been accepted and spent his war years riding bikes in the Wehrmacht. He wanted to leave the army and pursue a career racing them. This was his dream and he thought about it every day. It kept him going all those lonely months away from home. He was married with a young wife and baby. He thought about them now. His beautiful wife Lotte and daughter Giselle. He had seen them only for a few days since Giselle had been born. To have left them was the worst pain he had ever known. It had been heartbreaking. He carried a photograph of them in his wallet. He looked into his rear view mirrors again. Would anyone notice if he stole a quick look at the photo. It was black and white and worn around the edges from looking at it so much. But Klaus Stuck couldn’t resist its charms. He reached into his left breast pocket with his right hand and pulled out his wallet and opened it. Through his dusty goggles he could see them, his loved ones, Lotte holding the baby up for the camera. Her seductive smile. Klaus felt the ache in his heart again.

He never saw the mine which exploded under him, tearing the bike to pieces and throwing him clear of the wreckage to land heavily in the road. The bikes fuel tank had exploded on impact and a brief fireball rose quickly turning to thick black smoke. The following vehicles ground to a halt narrowly avoiding each other in the dust.

Stuck lay stunned on his back in the road. He was briefly aware that something had thrown him bodily off his bike. There was an initial feeling of pain around his loins and buttocks but that whole area was now numb with the shock. His vision was poor due to the dust on his goggles and he reached up with his right hand to remove them. His actions were slow, his senses dull. He could hear his breathing. He couldn’t find his goggles with his hand. Something red dripped onto the goggle lenses.

‘I’m hurt,’ went through his mind.

He was vaguely aware of shadows appearing around him. He could now taste blood in his mouth. Then the daylight was blinding him. Someone had removed his goggles. He turned his head to his right side.

’I’ve lost my arm!’

It was just a stump. It was missing from the elbow down. Strangely he still felt no pain. He was aware of people standing over him. He needed a drink of water. He tried to speak but couldn’t.

“What’s going on now?” the Doctor asked.

Koenig reached for the door handle.

“I’ll find out Doctor von Brest.”

He made his way through the stopped vehicles ordering personnel to remain as they were. Then he could see the wreckage. Black, twisted metal, some still burning. Then he saw the red in the road.

“Dear God!”

Major Otto Wurtz was running up the road behind him. They stopped together and looked down at Stuck, looking tiny without his legs. Koenig put his hand over his mouth. There was a motorcyclist standing on either side of the fatally injured man. One of them had removed his goggles.

“Is he still alive?” Koenig asked through his horror.

The man holding the goggles nodded.

Wurtz undid his hip holster and pulled out his Luger handgun. He offered it to Koenig who looked at it in horror and shook his head. Wurtz cocked it and approached the mash of flesh that was once a man. Stuck was bleeding to death and fast. Nonetheless Wurtz pointed the Luger at close range and fired. Koenig jumped involuntarily at the shot. Wurtz put the Luger away, bent down and ripped Stuck’s dog tags from his neck.

“Drag it out of the road,” he ordered the two standing by.

“Yes sir. Shall we bury him sir?”

“Be quick about it. You’ll have to catch up.”

He turned and held out the dog tags so they dangled from his hand.

“One of yours I believe.”

Koenig took them.

“What was it?” the Doctor asked as they got back into the Mercedes.

“One of the motorcycles ran over a mine. The rider is dead.”

“Are we able to get through it?”

Koenig looked at him incredulously.

‘Cold hearted bastard’ he was thinking.

“Yes,” Wurtz replied calmly.

The Doctor leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder.

“Drive on.”

The Mercedes wound its way through the wreckage. They stopped at the front of the vehicles. Two sappers were in the road with mine detecting equipment. They moved to the side as Koenig wound down the window.

“You’ll have to wait here sir. We’re just checking for other mines.”

The breeze blew the photograph across the road. It came to rest against a very small thorn bush. A photograph of Klaus Stuck’s wife and baby daughter.



Alfred Dennis and the engineers had heard the explosion. They were, most of them getting to their feet. A cloud of black smoke was rising over the distant hills.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Wilf spoke next to his friend.

Alf was studying the smoke. He didn’t answer.

“One of those planes from earlier?”

Alf shook his head.

“No they are long gone.”

He continued watching it for a minute.

“Johnny,” he called finally.

Larder came forward.

“Yes sir.”

“Take someone with you, take that truck and find out what that was.”

“Yes sir,” Johnny replied excitedly.

“Larder!”

Johnny stopped. Alf smiled at him.

“Be careful private.”

“Yes sergeant.”

Johnny grabbed his friend from the pub that night, Tim, and together they crossed over to the Bedford. Burroughs tossed him a pair of binoculars which he caught mid air. They climbed into the truck, Johnny started it and they waved as they drove away. Alf and Burroughs watched them go.

“He really is a good lad Alf.”

Alf patted his friend around the shoulder.

“He’s the best Wilf.”

They turned at the sound of engines from behind. More British trucks arriving and one jeep. An officer climbed out. He was English, a Major, but wearing the uniform of the 4 Indian army.

The engineers saluted. The salute was returned.

“Who’s in charge here?”

“That would be me sir Captain William Rogers of the royal engineers.”

“I am Major Basil Shaw. We are here to help you with the removal and relocation of enemy mines and assist with some tanks that need recovery. You and your men are to place yourselves under my command. Any questions?”

“None sir.”

“Very well,” Shaw said looking around “Is this all the men you have?”

“Yes sir apart from two I’ve sent to investigate an explosion over there,” Rogers said pointing to the drifting smoke “I also have a man dead.”

“What happened to him?”

“Would you believe an American pilot.”

“An American.”

“Two P40’s strafed us. Two of my men were hit in the legs. One died. The other needs a hospital but there’s no hope out here. We’ll have to hope he’ll pull through.”

Major Shaw nodded.

“Very well. We’ll do everything we can for him,” he stopped “What’s that over there?”

“Two dead Germans. We found them.”

An Indian sergeant arrived. All the Indians were wearing turbans.

“Shall I let the men disembark Major?”

“No sergeant Singh. We’ll move out as soon as the rest of Captain….?”

“Rogers sir.”

“As soon as Captain Rogers men are back. Do you have a medical orderly?”

“Unfortunately he’s the one over there with his legs shot up.”

“Sergeant Singh find medic Sanjay, ask him to tend to the injured engineer, ask him sergeant to report to me personally the mans condition. Remind him that there is no possibility of getting to a hospital.”

Rogers saluted.

“Thank you for what you’ve done sir.”

“Sanjay’s skills are very accomplished. You need not worry about your man. Now Captain, sergeant, perhaps we could consult our maps.”

“Of course sir.”



“Race you,” Johnny laughed as he and Tim ran up the slope of a large dune. They had driven the road towards where they had seen the smoke earlier. Then they had left the road and parked the truck behind a dune to hide. Now they were scrambling up the sand pulling at each others shirts to be the first one to reach the top. Tim got there first and threw himself down. Johnny was about to charge past when Tim grabbed him and pulled him down.

“Keep down Johnny,” Tim spoke quietly “Look they’re about a mile away I’d guess,” Tim put the binoculars up to his face “Just as I feared they’re Germans!”

Johnny could make out people moving and trucks parked. There were some black objects in the road which he assumed was what had caused the smoke.

Tim handed Johnny the binoculars.

“I’d say if they are headed our way then we’re in trouble.”

Through the enhanced view Johnny could see wreckage in the road. Four men were sweeping metal detectors from side to side. A car, trucks and motorcycles. There didn’t appear to be any armour such as tanks. The motorcycle side cars were equipped with MG42’s. Apart from that he couldn’t see any other weapons.

As he watched he saw the four mine detectors finish their work and begin making their way back. One of them stopped and spoke to one of the cars occupants. Then he saw the car move forward. He moved the binoculars around and caught sight of the motorcycles saddling up. He put the binoculars down.

“Shit! Shit! We gotta get f*cking moving!”

Tim put the field glasses to his eyes now.

“Holy Christ. Johnny. Run! Run!”



They only took a minute to run back down to the truck, both of them falling over in their haste to get away. Tim climbed up and jumped into the passenger seat, his Sten cradled across his lap. Johnny put his on the floor near his feet as he climbed into the driving seat. He slammed his door shut and his fingers scrabbled for the ignition key.

He turned it.

Nothing!

He tried again in two, then three quick successions.

Still nothing.

Tim was frantically looking out of the window expecting to see the whole German army descending on them at any moment.

“It won’t f*cking start!, Johnny was desperate.

Tim looked at his friend. Their eyes met. No words were necessary. They were possibly living the last few minutes of their lives. Tim looked in the door mirror at their tracks left in the sand. He knew that when that car rounded the bend at the bottom of the dune the tracks would be seen and the game up. The Germans would surely investigate!

Johnny looked at his friend again, frantically turning the key. Suddenly the engine roared into life. Johnny closed his eyes and blew out his breath. He crunched the gears in to reverse and backed the Bedford a short distance, then he crunched it into first and drove off. Finding firmer ground he got the Bedford into third and hit the tarmac road at thirty miles an hour just in front of the Mercedes which had to swerve to avoid being hit and came to an abrupt stop.

Wurtz leaped out of the car and stared angrily at the tailboard as it sped away. He turned and shouted at the Mercedes driver.

“What the hell was that?”

“It was British sir.”

Wurtz wasted no time. He put his fingers in the corners of his mouth and whistled waving the lead truck and motorcycles forward. The truck screeched to a halt and Wehrmacht soldiers jumped down onto the road.

“After them!” he roared.

Soldiers jumped into the motorcycle sidecars and they roared away, the passengers loading the MG42’s.

It didn’t take them long to catch the truck. Johnny gave out a yelp of surprise when he checked the door mirror and saw the first of the motorcycles catching them.

“Oh God! Motorbikes!” he yelled.

Tim looked into his mirror. He could see two his side. Realising it would take too long to wind down his window he smashed it with his gun instead. He leaned out and sent a burst at the lead motorcycle hitting it many times, catching its riders unawares. The lead rider backed off. He looked down. Miraculously he wasn’t hurt and his bike not badly damaged. He closed in on the truck again. Tim leaned out and sent another burst which missed the bikes. The trigger clicked, the magazine empty. The lead rider saw Tim dart back inside the window. He made his move, opened up his throttle and drew alongside just as Tim leaned out with Johnny’s gun. The MG42 jammed as Tim emptied Johnny’s Sten into the lead riders chest. He was thrown backwards off the bike in a spray of blood and guts. The passenger let go of the MG42 and tried to grab the handlebars. The bike was wobbling uncontrollably and he fell between it and the sidecar as it cart wheeled over and over. He went under the back wheels of the Bedford and it minced him instantly into a pulp.





“Got one of them!” Tim shouted with glee.

Johnny punched the air with joy

“Felt him go under the wheels,” he said looking into the mirror at the red mash left behind.

The two remaining motorcycle sidecars were now flanking the Bedford’s tail. Johnny could see in his mirrors both machine gunners ready. So far the Germans hadn’t fired a shot.

Now they did.

A wicked burst from an MG42 ricocheted off the trucks sides, the bullets tearing through canvas looking for victims. Johnny couldn’t understand why they weren’t shooting out his tyres. Suddenly Johnny jammed on the brakes. The two motorcycles rocketed past and Johnny swerved into the one on his side crushing it. Tim wasn’t so lucky. The one on his side fired off a volley and he ducked but not before he was hit in the arm. Blood splashed the inside of the door and ran down the outside. He let out a howl of pain. Johnny looked across at his companion. He could see bullet holes in the door. Incredibly nothing else inside the cab had been hit. Loose MG42 bullets were rolling around on the floor.

“Tim are you badly hurt?”

Tim was ripping bits of his shirt off to make a tourniquet. He was in the process of tying it just above his elbow using his good arm and his teeth. He grunted with the pain.

“I don’t think so. It passed straight through. It sure does bloody hurt. ARRGGHH!” he cursed as the truck hit a series of bumps in the road.

“Sorry. Sorry. Bloody hell your arm looks bad mate.”

Tim wiped the sweat off his face with his good arm.

“Listen I think I can still fire the gun but you may have to load it for me.”

Johnny looked in the mirror. The remaining motorbike was no where to be seen. He began slowing down again.

“I can’t see him. He’s not there anymore.”

Tim leaned his head out of the window.

“Yes he is. I can see his shadow behind us.”

Next time Johnny looked the motorcycle was back in his mirror. He was about to look away when panic set in.

“Shit Tim. His passenger is gone.”

They both glanced at each other.

“He’s in the back of the truck,” Johnny said.

Johnny could see the German in the mirror. He had climbed out of the back of the lorry and was now creeping along its side. He had a pistol in his hand.

“Here he comes Tim.”

Johnny weaved the truck across the road working at the steering wheel, pulling it this way and that trying to throw him off. The German held on tight. Tim was frantically trying to load his Sten one handed. He dropped the new clip on the floor.

“Damn!”

He dived down for it hurting his arm in the process. He could just about feel it with his fingertips. Then he was able to turn it into his grasp and pick it up. He jammed the Sten between his knees and loaded the clip. The motorcycle was keeping a safe distance. Now it surged forward again to try to add confusion.

“Tim we’re going to have to swap places. I can’t shake him off. If you can drive I’ll deal with him.”

Despite his pain Tim nodded.

Johnny stood up, his foot pressed firmly on the accelerator, both hands gripping the steering wheel. Tim slid over and under Johnny. The truck slowed for a moment while they exchanged places. The German moved towards them in the lull.. Tim stomped on the throttle and the Bedford roared on. They rounded a bend and in the distance they could see Matmata and safety. Alf and the others waiting for them.

Johnny opened the passenger door, climbed out and grabbed the Sten off the seat. He got a secure footing between the cab and the body and the moment the German appeared at the back of the cab he fired but missed. The German threw himself away, slipped, and nearly fell, holding on one handed. Tim afraid to weave the Bedford about now in case Johnny was thrown. Suddenly the Germans pistol nosed its way around the corner. Johnny saw it and ducked. The shot smashed the glass behind the driver. The shattered glass raining down on Tim. The German chose his moment and without warning lunged forward and jumped the small gap and landed by the drivers door. Tim saw him coming in the mirror but was unable to do anything about it. The German grabbed his arm and pulled it. The Bedford slewed around in a wide arc, left the road, turned one hundred and eighty degrees and jumping and jarring over the rough terrain bounced back onto the road. They were now heading back the way they’d come. The motorcycle also turned in pursuit. The German aimed his pistol at Tim and pulled the trigger just as the truck hit a pothole. The shot fired harmlessly into the air. Tim let go of the steering wheel and grabbed the pistol arm banging it down against the door until the German dropped the gun. The back wheels went over it.

“Give it up! Give it up!” Tim was yelling.

Johnny climbed back down into the cab.

“Tim duck!”

Tim did as he was told. Johnny couldn’t get a clean shot. Then Tim pulled the door handle and kicked the door. It opened and swung out over thin air. The German’s legs flailing as he tried to hang on. The motorcycle raced forward to try to assist just as Johnny leaned behind Tim and fired the Sten. The bullets went through the door metal hitting the German numerous times in the torso. He fell, bounced in the road and went under the sidecar causing the motorcycle to cart wheel. Its rider was thrown and he landed heavily in the road sliding some way before coming to a stop.

“That’s it,” Johnny said “That’s the last of them.

As if on cue, due to the loss of blood and exhaustion Tim slumped at the wheel. He managed to bring the Bedford to a halt. Johnny jumped down, ran round the front and climbed into the drivers side pushing Tim into the passenger seat. He looked into the mirror just as the motorbike exploded. Then he eased the truck into gear, turned it round and sped off towards the town.