Tomb of the Lost

Chapter SEVENTEEN



GERMAN FIELD HOSPITAL, BEHIND THE MARETH LINE,TUNISIA DECEMBER 1942



Alfred Dennis tried to sit up. He had been on his back in bed now for nearly a month. He gasped at the pain such action caused. Four weeks ago to this day he had been shot by a German sniper in Matmata, Tunisia. The wound was healing well. He was lucky the bullet was a high explosive and had punched a hole in his left shoulder a fingers thickness. It had travelled through his body, luckily for him missing organs and blood vessels and exited through his back. Leaving a wound six times greater than the entry point. Alf thanked his lucky stars again that it had happened in winter and not during the hot months when most wounds would fester. He had seen many men die from infection, men with body parts missing, faces burned beyond recognition, their skin….

’Stop it!’ he commanded himself.

Sometimes laying here in a hospital bed a man’s imagination could run away with him and they began to think of what could happen to them.

Alfred struggled to an upright position. He looked down at the near white dressing. It was too early to tell if he’d broken the scab just yet. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and put his bare feet on the floor. He wanted to stretch his aching muscles. He tried stretching the good shoulder but it pulled on the bad one and hurt. He looked at the bed next to him.

“Are you awake?” he called gently.

Johnny Larder was laying on his side, his back to Alf. He rolled over. His face was a mess. The Panzerschreck had left splinters of steel and stone in his face. The surgeons had removed almost all of it but one piece of metal lodged in his skull. It had been decided that unless the fragment moved it wouldn’t kill him. The risks of trying to remove it in the primitive conditions of the field hospital were too high the Doctors had decided. Johnny was lucky. The wound had healed around it, trapping it in place. He knew it was there though, he could feel it. Like an invader.

The swelling was now starting to go down. In its place the bruising was coming out. Johnny’s face was black and blue.

“Yes I’m awake old ’un.”

“I’m going for a walk. Do you want to come?”

Johnny got up. He felt giddy and swayed and almost fell. He put a hand out on the bed to steady himself. Instantly a medical orderly was there grabbing Johnny by the arm, pushing him back towards the bed, talking to him in German.

“We’re going for a walk,” Alf explained.

The German orderly was shaking his head. He tried again to get Johnny into bed.

“What is going on here?” a voice said in English with a heavy German accent. The orderly let go of Johnny and moved out of the way.

“We wish to go for a walk Herr Doctor,” Alf replied.

The Doctor looked from Alf to Johnny.

“This patient has a severe head injury.”

“I know. That is why I’m going with him.”

The Doctor thought about the options. He was a Doctor. He had a responsibility to save lives. This included the British under his care.

He remembered his meeting with Rommel. He had been treating German soldiers since the outbreak of war. He had been listening to a patient’s breathing with a stethoscope when he had been summoned away urgently. He had stormed through his hospital muttering all kinds of threats if this was a waste of his time. He burst into his office, which was just a desk surrounded by canvas screens, to find Field Marshall Rommel waiting for him. The Doctor stopped, sensing danger. His eyes inadvertently going to the iron cross, 1 class, around Rommel’s throat. The oak leaves with swords on his shoulders.

“You are the Chefartz?”

“Yes Herr General.”

“I am Erwin Rommel, Feldmarschall, supreme commander German forces, North Africa.”

The Doctor saluted.

“Yes sir of course sir,” he suddenly felt very sick himself.

“I have taken eighty one British prisoners of war. Many of them are injured. Some seriously. Those that are injured are being brought here. They should arrive tomorrow. Enemy aircraft permitting of course. The rest are to be detained here. I am leaving twenty of my men with you and tents and supplies. They will assist you in any way possible. They will erect the tents for the prisoners and surround it with barbed wire. You Doctor are responsible for their welfare do you understand?”

“Yes Herr Feldmarschall.”

Rommel ran over the plans until he was sure the Doctor understood exactly what was to happen.

The Doctor now looked at the two British prisoners before him. Rommel had put them personally in his care. Rommel had also said that if any of them died as a result of nature or wounds then so be it. The Doctor made a decision.

“Very well but you go on crutches,” he said to Larder “And no more than thirty minutes. Understood?” he said to Alf.

“Yes Doctor.”

“And if you feel a headache coming on I want you back here in an instant.”

The Doctor moved on to the next bed, other Doctors under his supervision tending their sick.

Alf helped Johnny to put on a clean pair of trousers and shirt before doing his own. He couldn’t do his shirt up so he left it. His dog tags glinted in the light. Johnny looked at them.

“How will it all end Alf?”

“Don’t worry you’re safe for the moment.”

They began to walk. Johnny struggling at first with the crutches.

“Come back if I develop a headache,” Johnny said with sarcasm “My head hurts all the bloody time.”

“Just don’t overdo it. Here we’ll go slowly this way.”

They left the tent they were in. German Wehrmacht guards with rifles covering every entrance and exit. There were over a hundred tents, each one with a clear space between them and their neighbour. Guards at every one. Beyond the tents barbed wire twenty feet thick and over six feet high encircled the compound. This was as much to keep not only the prisoners in but the enemy and indigenous people out. The biggest threat though came from the air. Allied aircraft so far had not bombed the hospital thanks to huge red crosses on the tent tops.

The sound of sawing and hammering got ever closer as they walked the prisoner of war camp being constructed twenty four hours a day.

“Why are they doing this Alf?”

“Doing what?”

“The Germans. Why are they helping us?”

“Because we are prisoners of war.”

“But why did Rommel get personally involved. I mean why did he save us?”

“Because he is a professional.”

Johnny’s head was thumping and not just from the injury he had sustained. There were many things he didn’t understand, many questions he wanted answering.

“It doesn’t make sense, well to me it doesn’t. He must have better things to do than save our bacon.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like the SS.”

Johnny puffed out his cheeks and blew.

“I know I don’t! Christ Alf I hate those bastards more than anyone and those are the first ones I’ve ever met. That bastard of a Major was going to hang me….”

“Listen don’t think about it anymore. It’s over. You are safe now,” Alf tried to sound reassuring.

“….For doing my job,” Johnny continued. He hadn’t heard Alf speak.

“Snipers have no friends Johnny. Ordinary blokes like ourselves hate them. The game they play is cruel. I know you’re a good shot but I wish you’d never picked up that Enfield. It nearly got you hanged. Promise me you’ll never pick up a snipers rifle again Johnny.”

Alf held Johnny’s cheeks in both hands.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Remember how you felt when you saw that sniper shoot me.”

“I wanted to kill him. I did kill him.”

“Good take that as a lesson then. That’s how every man in the army feels, including that Major.”

They continued walking for a while in silence.

“How does my face look Alf?”

Alf looked at him. The handsome young man from rural Wiltshire.

“The truth?”

“Yes.”

“Bloody awful.”

“It hurts Alf.”

His skin on his neck had received powder burns from the grenade’s exploding contact with the wall. It was healing well now, new scar tissue forming.

“The scars will fade Johnny.”

“Will Margaret still fancy me?”

“Of course she will. It will heal in time. You have the whole of your life ahead of you. Both of you.”

“I wish I was in her hospital. With her to take care of me. Just me and none of the others she has to look after.”

“Who knows Johnny the war may be over for us.”

Johnny stopped to look at Alf.

“What do you mean maybe?”

“As long as we are here and do as we are told the war is over for us. If the Germans trade us for their own P.O.W.s then our forces will undoubtedly send us straight back to the front.”

Johnny looked at Alf again. He pointed to his own face.

“Haven’t I given enough?”

“Some have given much more.”

“Their lives?” Johnny replied “When I signed up Alf I thought war was glorious. I haven’t seen glory, only death. I’ve almost died half a dozen times. We all have.”

“Try not to think about it. Think about the good things in life. Think about Margaret, about the things you’d like to do and have with her. Things that you can share. That’s what keeps me going. The belief that one day I’ll return to the life I once had.”

“You’re married Alf?”

“Yes Veronica. I call her Ronnie.”

“You have a family?”

“Yes. We have a son, Patrick, he‘s nine months old now.”

“What did you do before the war Alf?”

“I am a carpenter.”

“Is that why you ended up in the Engineers?”

“Yes. And you?”

“My family owns a farm. I was learning the business but decided I wanted to fight after I saw Luftwaffe planes flying over our land. I tried to shoot one down once with my fathers shotgun. Of course I missed, they were too high. The pilots used to wave at us. I don’t suppose the one I fired at ever knew.”

“I’ve always wanted to fly,” Alf said dreaming of what it would be like to be able to take off and fly. The freedom of a clear sky with nothing beneath you. The freedom to go where ever you wanted and see what you wanted.

“You should talk to the chap in the bed next to mine. He was a pilot until he lost his nerve after a bad crash.”

“The Indian?”

“Yes the Indian. He trained as a pilot in England at Biggin Hill but when he went home to India there was no call for pilots so he became a sapper instead.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Alf said “It will help to pass the time.”

“Yeah he’s an interesting bloke. He was telling me this morning all about the village he comes from.”

“Come Johnny we’d better get you back before the Doctor comes looking for you.”

Alf used that as an excuse but in truth he wanted to acquaint himself with the man in the next bed.