Tomb of the Lost

Chapter SIXTEEN



The Mercedes saloon slowed at the first wrecked motorcycle, steered around the crushed man in the road and soon arrived at the second destroyed motorbike.

“It looks like that truck ran over this one,” Koenig said.

The third one was still burning. Its rider was laying face down some fifty or so yards past it. The car stopped. Koenig and Wurtz got out. Koenig turned the body over and saw the worst sight of his life. The mans face was gone. Where his eyes and nose should have been were just red holes, holes that bled. Koenig felt sick. Wurtz suddenly drew his Luger and emptied it into the corpse making the body jump. He threw his head back and roared with anger. Koenig stared at him open mouthed.

‘The man is insane.’

“You’re shooting at a corpse.”

Wurtz rounded on him.

“Get in the car!”

It was an order. An order Koenig didn’t like.

“Have you forgotten my rank Major.”

Wurtz looked at him in recognition. When he’d given the order he hadn’t been focused on his surroundings.

“I beg your pardon Colonel. I was angry. Yes. I apologise.”

The rest of their vehicles were now approaching.

“We must remember our mission and respect the Doctor’s wishes. I’m afraid Major Wurtz that we’ll have to let these men go,” Koenig said looking at the dust trail being kicked up by the Bedford.



Johnny brought the truck to a complete stop in the square. The squeal of brakes brought Shaw, Rogers and Alf out. Alf took one look at the state of the truck.

“Christ what happened to you?”

Johnny jumped down onto the road. He nearly collapsed from exhaustion but he found the strength to run round to Tim. Others were already there lifting him out of the Bedford. They helped him to where Sanjay had set up a temporary sickbay. The conditions were extremely poor but the best they could manage in the circumstances.

Alf looked at the truck. The passenger door had bullet holes in it and was streaked with blood. The drivers door wouldn’t close properly due to bent hinges. One rear tyre was hissing from a puncture. Both windows were smashed and the windscreen was cracked.

“That explosion sir,” Johnny said not knowing whether to talk to Rogers or the Major who was unknown to him, “It looks like it was a German motorcycle. It must have hit a mine because they were using metal detectors on the road.”

Johnny coughed and someone offered him a cup of water.

“How many are there?”

“There were more motorcycles, about six trucks similar in size to ours, one saloon car. Don’t know how many men in the trucks. There were some in one, they’re the ones that chased us.”

Major Shaw spoke.

“Private?”

“Larder sir.”

“Private Larder I am Major Basil Shaw of the 4 Indian army. I shall be assuming command here. I….”

“But you’re English….” Johnny stopped realising his slip.

“Yes I’m English. That is not unusual in the Indian army.” Shaw replied not minding Larders rudeness under the circumstances, “It sounds like you’ve had quite an eventful day.”

Johnny told him what had happened.

“Come gentlemen,” Shaw said to Rogers and Alf “we must prepare ourselves for attack.”



The first of the German trucks nosed its way quietly into Matmata. The saloon car with the two officers and Doctor von Brest, the three remaining motorcycle sidecars and the trucks with the archaeologists all waited just outside town.

Wurtz and Koenig stood in the road peering through binoculars. The town looked deserted.

“Maybe they’ve gone,” Koenig said.

“No they’re there.”

“Perhaps we should just leave and go about our business.”

Wurtz lowered his binoculars to look at Koenig who still had his pressed to his face.

“They’ve killed six of your men Colonel. Six of the fatherland’s men. As an officer of the SS I cannot allow this to go unpunished. We’ll find them. I’ll see their bodies hang by sunset.”

“You killed two yourself.”

“That was different. Those men were deserters. You would have done exactly as I did.”

“I would have seen to it that those men had received a fair trial.”

“I gave them a summary trial and a summary execution.”

“By cutting their throats?”

“This is a war Colonel Koenig. Bullets cost money. A knife in the throat costs nothing.”

“I will be reporting the matter to General Von Brockhorst who will undoubtedly report the matter to General Von Arnim.”

“You don’t like me Colonel, it’s all right,” Wurtz said with a smile.

“I didn’t say that.”

“It matters not. We don’t have to like each other to work together but may I remind you that I was sent here personally by Reichsfuhrer Heinrich Himmler.”

It wasn’t that Koenig didn’t like Wurtz. He didn’t like what he stood for, the uniform of the SS, their methods. But there was something else, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had a strange feeling that they’d met before, but for the life of him Koenig couldn’t think where.”

’Elsa’s husband is an officer in the SS’ he was thinking ‘but her name is Von Wurz.’

He tried to remember if he’d ever heard her refer to him by name. he was sure she hadn’t nor could he remember ever seeing a photograph of him but they were always turned down. He cursed himself for never having turned one over but he’d never wanted to see a picture of the man whose wife he was bedding. Then suddenly he became paranoid.

’Did she not call out the name Otto once in her sleep? Otto?

He felt himself breaking out into a sweat. He slowly lowered his field glasses to look at Wurtz. He let his hand fall casually to his side and felt the reassurance of his holstered Luger.

“Are you married Major?” he asked nervously.

“That’s a strange question to ask at a time like this.”

“You said I didn’t like you. I’m just trying to get to know you.”

Wurtz stared at him for a few moments. Koenig found it difficult to hold his gaze but he managed it. Wurtz was trying to read the other mans thoughts. Finally he put his binoculars back to his face. To Koenigs relief he said.

“No I’m not married Colonel.”

Koenig let out a silent sigh.

“My wife is dead,” he took his field glasses away and stared at the Colonel again.

“She was murdered.”

Koenig was shocked.

’He said it as if he doesn’t care,’ he was thinking. Then he remembered the deserters, Klaus Stuck dying in the road, the corpse he shot. Perhaps the man has no feelings.

“I’m very sorry Major. If you would like to tell me about it, if you want to talk….”

“I don’t!”



The German lorries stopped in the town centre of Matmata. Their officer Leutnant Braun was out first. He ordered his men to standard defensive positions.

“Cover, there, there, there and there. Go! Go!”

The Bedford was nearby. Braun smiled when he saw the blood on the passenger door.

“They’re wounded,” he said “And nothing’s more dangerous than a wounded animal. Remember that all these English are animals not fit to be part of our master race,” He continued trying to provoke his men.

From the safety of their covering positions the English and Indians heard Brauns comments and anger flushed over them. Fingers tightened on triggers. Suddenly a shot rang out and the back of Brauns head disappeared. Larder was looking down the sights of his high powered Enfield snipers rifle. He smirked as he saw the look of surprise on Brauns face. Their cover blown the rest of the British opened fire.

Shaw was annoyed that Larder had fired without waiting for the order. The Germans under cover now began firing at anything and everything. Alf’s men keeping their heads down. The first sound of the machine gun fire made Sanjay jump. He was pulling pieces of splintered bone from Tim’s arm. The bullet had passed straight through and the wound was clean but Tim had lost quite a bit of blood. Sanjay was more concerned that often these sorts of wounds became infected by the constant buzzing flies in the desert, flies that caused dysentery.

The German firing ceased. The British were inside buildings, now they moved up to windows and doorways and returned fire. Bullets rained down on the trucks. One of them had a fuel line hit and it suddenly exploded, the petrol ignited by sparks. From the outskirts of town Koenig and Wurtz saw the smoke.

“Braun come in. Come in Braun,” Koenig was calling into the radio.

“That must have been the British truck going up.”

“Leutnant Braun come in.” Koenig put the handset down “It’s useless.”

Now with the radio off they could hear the gunfire.

“How many men have you sent into that town?”

“Fifty in four trucks Major.”

“Should be enough to clear out a few British in one truck.”

Alf, Burroughs and two other men were now at street level. Alf was at the corner of a building . Every time he put even an inch of his face around it a burst of German bullets struck the wall causing him to move back. After half a dozen attempts he had seen enough to know that the Germans pinning them down were behind a group of empty oil drums.

“There are two of them ,” Alf said to the others “They’re behind a stack of oil drums . Can’t tell what weapon they’re using.”

He risked another look. He gestured to Burroughs and they swapped places.

“There’s a stack of wooden pallets over by that wall. Two of you get behind them and give covering fire . I and Charlie will go the other way. We need to get behind them. By flanking them they will only be able to attack one target. Let’s flush them out. Ready?”

The others nodded to Alf. He pulled the pin on a grenade.

“One, two, three,” he released the trigger, counted “One, two,” and threw the grenade at the drums. It hit them and bounced back a few yards. The two Germans saw it and hit the deck, face first. Burroughs and his man Bill Smith ran for the pallets. The grenade exploded, pieces of shrapnel pierced the drums. The Germans slowly raised their heads then took up their positions again and resumed firing at Alf’s position making him duck. Burroughs and Bill opened fire at them and they swung around to face the new danger, once again taking cover as bullets whipped up around them.

Alf and Charlie now ran for the next corner and from there to the next. Now they were slightly behind the Germans left. Wilf and Bill took cover as the Germans opened up again. Now Alf made his move. He walked up calmly behind the Germans and emptied a Sten clip into their backs driving them forwards into the oil drums, killing them. Alf stood over them. They were dead.

Then a single shot rang out. Alf felt something smack him in the left shoulder. He felt heat at first, then pain, then numbness. It spun him around and put him on his back in the road.



The German sniper continued staring down his sights for a few more moments. The Englishman was definitely still alive. He had shot high, to the mans left shoulder, not wanting to kill him, only to wound him, leave him in the road hurt, draw the others out. They would try to get to the injured man now. He needed treatment desperately. The German had watched the English as they’d run to cover. He had been unable to get a clear shot on the men sprinting from cover to cover. He had watched as the Englishman had coldly walked up to the two German machine gunners and slaughtered them.

He moved his scope across the field of vision. He couldn’t get a clear shot on the two men behind the pallets. He couldn’t see the fourth man who had made it from corner to corner. The one in the road he could kill at any time and decided he would play with him when the time was right. He swept his scope again. Still no clear shot. Again nothing. Again. ’What was that’?

He saw something that stood out. Something that hadn’t been there a moment before. He turned the focus on his sight. It was a rifle barrel and it was pointing straight at him. He zoomed and could see the telescopic sight. It was another sniper. For a moment he thought he saw the other man’s eye staring at him.

Larder pulled the trigger.

The Enfield bullet smashed through the German telescope, through the German’s eye and through the back of his head. Larder doubled checked to make sure his opponent was dead before calling out to Burroughs on the ground. They rushed across to Alf. He was barely conscious. Wasting no time they picked him up and moved him to cover.



The sappers of the 4 Indian army were leaderless. Major Basil Shaw had been killed in a crossfire. The Indians were suppressing a group of Germans. They were now being led by Sergeant Singh. A handful of well aimed grenades reduced the Germans by almost half. Still they fought. Two Indians fell, then a third, then another German. Then the remaining Germans were over run. They were all wounded and surrendered to Singh. He at once accepted their surrender, took away their weapons and posted guards.

Elsewhere in the town the fighting was vicious. Eight English soldiers were now dead. Finally the Germans gained the upper hand and Singh was forced to abandon the surrendered Wehrmacht. Larder was still on the rooftop from where he had killed the sniper. He moved down, crossed the street and made his way to the dead German. He put a foot on the man and pushed him over. The man’s right eye was missing. A huge gaping wound in his head. He picked up the German rifle.

“That one was for Alf,” he said.

Elsewhere in the town he could hear the fighting and he moved towards it. He crossed the street, ran up some steps, went three quarters of the way round a flat roof and took up position. He spotted some enemy troops and quickly loaded the Enfield to the maximum six bullets. He looked through his scope and smiled.

The first German he hit right between the eyes. The second required two shots. The third made a run for it and Johnny caught him in the throat. His blood sprayed and he fell, mortally wounded. Then as Johnny looked for more victims he saw to his horror four Germans wheeling a 50mm mobile cannon from one of the trucks.

Charlie came running up the steps, Johnny turned at the sound and saw that it was his friend.

“Johnny we’ve got to go! They’ve got a 50mm.”

Larder went back to sighting. He targeted one German and fired. Another clean kill. The second he missed by millimetres. Suddenly from somewhere a Panzershreck was fired straight at Charlie and Larder,. Its rocket whooshed across the street and exploded against a wall right beside Charlie’s head. Johnny was hit hard. He was knocked flat on his face. At first he thought he was dead, then, deaf, his ears ringing, he was back in the black dog that night after being hit with the bottle.

Then he saw Margaret in front of him.

“What are you doing here my love?”

Though he knew he had spoken the words he hadn’t heard them. He could only see out of one eye. The right side of his face was filled with shrapnel and concrete and powder burns. Then as his eyesight cleared momentarily he saw Charlie laying next to him. He could see that Charlie was dead, his throat had been ripped open, his face unrecognisable.

“Poor Charlie, my friend Charlie.”

Then Johnny collapsed and lost consciousness.



Major Otto Wurtz of the SS was livid. He paced up and down in the centre of Matmata brandishing his Luger handgun. The German truck was smouldering nearby. The dead Germans were being piled together, the British dead dragged out and dumped where ever. The British wounded were being brought out in front of him. Those that couldn’t walk were carried without consideration for their injuries. Johnny Larder was brought out and put down. Alf, supported by Burroughs who wasn’t hurt, saw him and feared the worst. Johnny turned his head slowly and smiled at Alf.

“I’m still here old ’un.”

Despite his pain Alf chuckled. It seemed in another lifetime that alf had playfully punched Larder for calling him that.

“Is that all of them?”

“Yes Herr Major,” SS sergeant Bonmann replied.

“Who is in command here?” Wurtz asked turning his head this way and that. His eyes came to rest on Alfs stripes. Alf looked at him wearily.

“Sergeant?” Wurtz enquired.

“Major Shaw was killed in a gun battle. Captain William Rogers is now most senior.”

“And where is he?”

“Over there sir,” Bonmann replied “Their Captain is dead.”

“I didn’t know,” Alf said, “Then Doctor Sanjay will be next in line.”

“Do you not salute a superior officer sergeant? I am a Major of the SS.”

“I would if I could sir but my shoulder was hit by sniper fire.”

“That’s quite all right sergeant. The Major can see that you’ve been wounded and that you would salute if you could,” Koenig replied more for Wurtz’ benefit than Alf’s.

Wurtz glared at Koenig. This wasn’t the first time that the Colonel had appeared to side against him.

“And who is Doctor Sanjay?” Wurtz asked, his eyes still on Koenig.

“That would be me sir,” Sanjay walked into the sun wiping his blood stained hands on a towel, “I am Warrant Officer Sanjay Rashid of the 4 Indian army Major,” he said saluting smartly.

“Now look at that! A monkey that can act civilised,“ Wurtz said mocking the man. The SS were laughing. A rush of anger went round the British.

Sanjay pretended to ignore the remark.

“I am an officer and a gentleman and the best surgeon in the Indian army Major if that is more helpful to you.”

“Well then you can start with tending to my men.”

“Actually Doctor you can decide who needs to be treated first depending upon urgency. British or German. Priority cases only. Also Doctor as you are the most senior here I formally accept your offer of surrender. I Colonel Hans Koenig, commanding officer here under General Hans Jurgen Von Arnim.”

Wurtz knew he was beaten. The first time he had met Koenig he had guessed the man was soft but each time Koenig had pulled rank.

’Never mind,’ Wurtz thought ’Perhaps he’ll do something treasonable and I can arrest him.’

“Very well Doctor Sanjay your surrender is accepted,” Wurtz turned to Bonmann and nodded. Bonmann came forward with the Enfield rifle.

“All except one,” Wurtz said holstering his Luger. He held the Enfield up. “The owner of this rifle….” he said turning it over in his hand “Is to be hanged! There is no place in war for snipers. This disgusting art of murdering in cold blood.”

Sanjay was furious.

“You have accepted the surrender of these men Colonel. They can now consider themselves prisoners of war.”

“They can. Major I protest.”

“Colonel the man who owns this rifle has calmly and collectedly murdered German soldiers with it.”

“He was fighting his war the same as everyone else.”

Wurtz took his Luger out and pointed it at Burroughs.

“Perhaps you would prefer it if I just started shooting at random. Sooner or later I’m bound to get the right man.”

There was absolute silence.

“Very well,” Wurtz said cocking the pistol.

“It’s mine.”

Johnny limped forward supported by Tim.

“The rifle is mine.”

“That’s very brave of you,” Wurtz spoke to Bonmann “Prepare a noose. I want this to be quick….” Wurtz stopped.

There was a sound of squeaking. As they listened it got louder.

“Tanks,” Alf said.

A German half track made its way into the square. Its back was full of Afrika Korps. It came around in a wide arc and pulled up in front of Wurtz and Koenig. Panzer mark IV tanks followed it and stopped at a distance. The injured soldiers laying down could feel the ground shake under so much armour. The passenger door of the half track opened and a man stepped out. A man of average height. He wore a leather hat and greatcoat. He was covered in dust and took his hat off and patted it. It was still dusty. Koenig recognised him and saluted. They had met once before in Berlin at the Fuhrers 50 birthday party. The man returned the salute and offered his right hand.

“It is good to see you again Colonel.”

“Thank you Herr General it is always a pleasure to see you.”

The General walked back towards the halftrack. Wurtz offered his hand but the man ignored it. The General began to unbutton his leather greatcoat. He shrugged it off his shoulders and threw it onto the front seat of the exposed halftrack cab. He irritably slapped his hat again.

“This damned dust.”

He rubbed dust out of his hair vigorously and then put his hat back on and placed it neatly. He strode back to the two officers.

“Now perhaps you would like to explain to me exactly what is going on here.”

“Well we came into this town chasing two British….”

The general shut Wurtz up with one look.

“I wasn’t talking to you Major.”

“Sir?”

“Do you not salute a Field Marshall when you see one?”

Wurtz clicked his heels smartly together and saluted. He was seething.

’Does this pompous bastard not realise that I am an officer of the SS,’ he was thinking.

“That’s better. Now. Colonel.”

“Herr General it is as the Major was about to explain,” Koenig began trying not to laugh at Wurtz’ loss of face, “We are an expedition team sent here to locate and recover the sarcophagus of Alexander the Macedonian.”

“Ah yes Hitler’s dream.”

“Yes General. We were digging in the country near here when we realised that we were entirely in the wrong location. We should be digging east of this town not west. We were returning to Matmata when a British truck, the one that is shot up over there, when the truck came out of the desert at us. I think they were trying to get away. They made our car swerve sir and the Major ordered a pursuit which cost the lives of six of my men.”

The General raised an eyebrow at Wurtz but said nothing.

“The major insisted that we send a team into the town to capture these two and our group was ambushed, however they did overcome all opposition.”

“Have these men surrendered?” the General asked surveying them.

“Yes sir.”

“Some of them look badly hurt.”

“Yes Herr General. Their commanding officer was killed. The Doctor over there is a warrant officer. He has assumed command of them. He and his team of medics have been treating the wounded of both sides on my orders. Under guard of course.”

“Yes that’s fine.”

The General moved to a position where all could hear him.

“You soldiers of the British forces. I will accept your surrender. You are now prisoners of war of the Axis forces. You will be given food and water and be taken to a German field hospital. I cannot promise that the journey will be pleasant but for many of you it will be safe. Some of you will probably die. I can offer no better than that at this time!”

Those of the British that could gave a small cheer.

“Use their trucks to transport them. Don’t mix the wounded,” The General was instructing his right hand man.

Sanjay approached.

“Herr General on behalf of the men and myself thank you.”

He saluted smartly. The General returned the salute.

“Good luck Doctor. May God watch over all of you.”

They watched him climb into the half track and leave. Some of his troops remained to make up the numbers of those lost. Koenig and Wurtz were left looking at each other.

“Did you hear that Johnny? We’re going to get nice clean hospital beds to sleep in,” Tim said excitedly.

Johnny could barely raise a smile.

“Who was that old ’un?” Tim asked.

“That was the desert fox himself my son.”

“Who?”

“Field Marshall Erwin Rommel.”