Tomb of the Lost

Chapter TWENTY FOUR



Alf and Johnny woke to a chilly dawn. It had been two days since their promotions and they found themselves emerging from the back of the truck they had slept in to a chilly desert. There was light on the horizon and the stars were still out. They both shivered as they stood in the twilight. Rushton came around the truck and motioned to them.

“Help yourselves to some coffee.”

They went over to where a small fire had been lit. An old, well used pot over the flames. Doyle was standing near by, his coffee steaming in his tin mug.

“Morning gentlemen. I mean Sir,” he said though Alf noticed he didn’t salute as was customary from a subordinate.

’Never mind. I’m not his Lieutenant anyway.’

“I’m trying to get used to the idea as well. Aren’t you Johnny?”

“Yes Alf….Sir….”

Johnny found it awkward too. For as long as he’d known Alf he had always been Sarge or the old ’un. Now he was an officer….Well it didn’t seem right!

“You can call me Alf when no one else is around,” he said while Doyle’s back was turned.

Doyle turned and presented them with a coffee each. It was black, unsweetened and smelt different. It tasted different too. Johnny took a swig.

“It tastes funny.”

Doyle had finished his. He shook his mug out onto the sand and held it out for a refill.

“You mean it doesn’t taste of petrol for once.”

“That’s it,” Alf said swilling a mouthful.

“This pot here,” Doyle said gesturing to it with his mug “Is the proud property of Ian Butcher here….”

Butcher raised his left hand as a greeting.

“This coffee pot is his prized possession. It makes the best coffee in this whole war.”

“I’d say it does,” said Alf taking another swig “It tastes like real coffee.”

The others in the group were all starting to gather around the little fire. Each holding mugs awaiting their coffee. Butcher was the best maker and he was unofficially chief brewer among them. Rushton suddenly appeared in their midst.

“Right men listen up.”

He waited a few moments for silence. The small flames crackled in the still air. One of the men let off a loud fart and there was sniggering from those around him.

“All right that’s enough. Settle down you lot,” Doyle said.

“Have you all had a coffee?” Rushton asked.

“Just getting ours now Sir,” some of the men replied.

“Come on Butch what are you playing at.”

“It’s not my fault Sir. I couldn’t get the fire hot enough. I could have done if we weren’t worried about it being seen or the smoke.”

“That’s quite all right. Just as long as everyone gets some before I have a mutiny,” he smiled.

Some of his men chuckled. Rushton was a very much liked Major.

“Now most of you know or are familiar with the two engineers, Lieutenant Dennis and Sargeant Larder….”

Alf and Johnny looked bashful at the tough soldiers around them.

“….They are working with us until they return to their own unit. Both their roles are acting only. Therefore you do not need to salute Lieutenant Dennis and though you will call him Sir if he addresses you, you do not, repeat do not take orders from him nor Sargeant Larder. Is that understood?”

Fifty voices all answered “Yes Sir!”

Rushton looked into Alf’s eyes. His right eyebrow slightly raised.

“Yes Sir. I understand,” Alf said silently. Rushton read his lips.

“Very well! Now today,” he continued to his men “We will continue into the mountains, hopefully arriving at the top around nightfall. It’s going to be tough, even for the vehicles. The road is narrow, winding, not built for modern machines. It’s at least a thousand years old if not older. Cut into the mountainside by Berbers who arrived here in the ninth century. The only traffic we can expect to meet up there are donkeys and people on foot. To our knowledge the enemy don’t use it. The other side of that,” Rushton said pointing “Is Gabes. Gabes is a seaport that we know the enemy controls. They have a Major supply line between Gabes, the Mediterranean islands of Cyprus and Malta and the south of France and Italy. Particularly Italy. Air Marshall Coningham wants to break this supply line. Monty wants control of the port. We need to find a way to it. That is our job here gentlemen. Any questions?”

Everyone was silent. Johnny raised his hand.

“Yes?”

“Just wondering Sir….” Johnny asked nervously, he stopped, intimidated by those around him.

“Go on!”

“Well are we to make notes on all of this as well?”

There was some tittering behind him. He shuffled his feet anxiously.

“Make notes, drawings, on everything. I would rather six of you record the same thing than something be missed. Any other questions? No! Good! Get one more coffee each and then we move, bagsy first,” Rushton said pushing through his men to get to the coffee pot.

A gust of wind blew over them all, making the flames dance and the smoke from the fire curl. Butcher threw on some more twigs and brush that he found nearby. Alf put on an extra jacket and tied his scarf around his neck. He felt warmer instantly but the extra jacket made him feel bulky and his arm movements were restricted. A sudden thought came to him and he laughed.

“What’s funny Alf?” Johnny had missed the joke.

“I was just thinking about home.”

Alf had remembered a time when he and his wife Ronnie had been out walking with the family dog, a black Labrador called Sooty, in the woods near their home. They had returned to the house and taken their boots off in the kitchen as usual when his wife had noticed Sooty was leaving bloody footprints on the floor. Alf had grabbed the dog and found his back paw had a deep but clean cut on it. Ronnie had got the first aid kit and after Alf had cleaned the wound they bandaged it together. Alf had remembered how once the bandage was on Sooty, incredibly, could no longer put any weight on the foot. He hopped around the kitchen with the injury as high off the floor as he possibly could.

Alf was still smiling at the thoughts as he swung his arms from side to side to get used to the jacket’s restrictions. His mind was on home.

’I wonder what they’re doing now’ he was asking himself.

Veronica, Ronnie, was probably at home, her hair tied in a bunch, preparing breakfast for herself and Patrick. Their son was nine months old now. Ronnie would be spoon feeding him his rusks soaked in water or on rations day in milk. She like every good mother giving up her supply of milk for the baby. Always putting him first. She eating vegetables and meat only once a week. They, Alf and his wife had a bit of money put by and she would queue with the other women once a week at the butchers to see what she could buy extra with their savings. Most of his money, like most men in the army, went to his wife back home. The wives, his wife spending all day cooking, cleaning, washing the clothes and baby’s nappies by hand, listening every day to the BBC world service on the radio for any news of their men, barely a minute’s rest all day for her. Poor bloody woman! Life is so hard on them. But she is more fortunate than others. Those in the big cities or industrial ports bombed every day and night by the Luftwaffe. Their children evacuated to rural locations away from the droning bombers and their deadly cargo. Children torn away from their parents and forced to live with Aunts and Uncles, foster parents, living on farms and in villages. Crying at night….Alone….Afraid.

“Are you all right Alf?”

Alf came out of his daydream.

“Pardon?”

“You’ve been staring into space for the last five minutes.”

“Have I? What? Yes I’m fine.”

“Do you want some more coffee?”

“Yes please.”

Johnny took Alf’s mug and went to fill it.

“This is the last of it,” Butcher said “Be about enough for one and a half cups. Don’t know what it’ll be like. You’ll most likely get the dregs as well.”

“That’s all right I’ll have the half cup.”

Johnny made his way back to Alf who thanked him and took a swig. It was stronger than before and bitty. Johnny’s was disgusting but knowing they wouldn’t get anymore for hours he persisted with it. Butcher got up, removed his pot and put it on the desert floor to cool. Then he kicked sand over the fire to extinguish it. The little flames roared and hissed in protest before they went out.

The first rays of sun broke over the hills and shone in their eyes. It felt instantly warming. Soldiers began gathering up personal effects and stuffing them into pockets. Many of them had empty gas mask containers to store matches, lighters and cigarettes. The gas masks long ago discarded because of the unlikelihood of gas being used out in the desert. Soldiers used an array of items personal to them.

The first of the trucks started up. Black smoke from its exhaust wafting over the men waiting to board it. Rushton and Doyle got into their Jeep. Doyle lighting yet again another cigarette. One of the Jeeps failed to start. The driver dipped the clutch again and swung the gear stick about to check it was in neutral before trying for a second time.

Still nothing.

Rushton put his hand up for his Jeep to stop and shouted across to the driver.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Dunno Sir. It won’t start.”

Rushton nodded towards Alf and Johnny.

“You’ve got two engineers there. Get them to have a look.”

Johnny swung round on Alf.

“Do we have to do everything around here,” he said none too quietly.

Alf glanced nervously at Rushton. The Major hadn’t heard Johnny’s comments.

“Shh!” Alf held a finger to his lips “What would you rather be doing? Trying to start a Jeep belonging to the S.A.S or stuck in a German P.O.W camp.”

Johnny had to admit the latter was not attractive.

“Ask the engineers!….As if I don’t know how to drive my own bloody Jeep,” the driver was muttering to himself as Alf climbed up into the vehicle. The driver gave him a nod of acknowledgement and tried her again. He flicked the little chrome switch and pushed the starter. Still nothing.

“Must be the batteries,” Alf said.

The driver tried once more.

“It’s no good. It’s not going to start,” he said banging both his fists on the steering wheel. Alf jumped out, reached into the back of the Jeep and picked up the crank handle and passed it to Johnny. Johnny reluctantly took it. It was a big engine. It would take a big effort to turn it over by hand and neither Johnny nor Alf were anywhere near one hundred per cent fit. Never the less he got down on his knees to find the hole for the handle and slotted it in. He then stood up, cracked his knuckles and grasping the crank with both hands, gave it a first turn. It was easier than he thought it would be and the engine spluttered as it turned over.

Another attempt.

Still nothing!

He tried a few more times. Still it wouldn’t start.

Alf tried a couple of time to start it. Then they raised the Jeep’s hood and peered inside. There was nothing obvious. Doyle pulled up alongside, his cigarette smoke taken by the breeze. He watched as Alf and Johnny poked and prodded at different parts of the engine.

“Having trouble?”

“It won’t start. We tried the crank. I think the problem may be electrical. There’s not much we can do out here without parts. Can we abandon it?”

Doyle played with his moustache.

“No better not leave it. Tow it behind one of the trucks. I’ll let the Major know.”

He let his clutch out and roared away in pursuit of Rushton.

The driver of the Jeep flicked the ignition off.

“There are some chains in the back of that truck,” he said jerking his thumb at Johnny. Johnny looked at Alf, gobsmacked.

“Who the hell does he think he’s talking to then?”

Alf, realising that this was the way these tough L.R.D.G men were used to talking to each other, merely clapped Johnny on the shoulder.

“Come on let’s go get those chains.”

“Who the hell does he think he is? I’m a sergeant now and he’d better remember it.”

“I don’t think he cares Johnny. It’s the same with us isn’t it? Remember those two who joined us from the tanks. Thought they were snooty and better than everyone else. Well no one took to them either did they? Hey? And just as well really when they both got killed by that mine. Nobody cared. Everyone just said ’Thank God! Any one but me!’ Didn’t they!”

“Yes I remember them. I didn’t get to know them though, didn’t want to.”

“And now they’re buried out here with just tin helmets marking their graves. Never to see home or their loved ones again. We buried them and we didn’t even care. That’s how these men feel. We are going to be given all the shit jobs here we can be sure of that. We’ll have to do them well if we want to earn their trust. Fighting with them will only cause us trouble and remember Johnny, technically, they did save us from a certain death. If it wasn’t for them we would still be trapped inside that wrecked aeroplane, straving and without water. So we owe them that much!”

Johnny half smiled.

“I suppose we do.”

Alf grabbed hold of one of the large hooks attached to the rusty steel chains. He found he had to use all his strength to move them. They were as thick as his wrist. He put his left foot up on the tailgate of the truck for more leverage and gritted his teeth. Johnny grabbed the chain and began pulling as well.

“These are heavy,” he said.

“Should do the trick.”

They carried the chains over to the broken down Jeep. One end ended in a large hook. There was an eye at the front of the Jeep. Alf attached the hook and waited as one of the A.E.C trucks was reversed into position. Alf threaded the chain through the trucks tailgate and around the Jeeps front again and back to the truck with the other hook. There was some slack and Alf beckoned the driver of the A.E.C to move forward slowly to take it up. The chain links grated against each other as they were pulled tight. The Jeeps driver released his parking brake and the jeep rolled forward as the A.E.C pulled away.

“You’d better hurry unless you want to be left behind,” the Jeeps driver said as he passed Alf and Johnny. They laughed as they ran to catch him. Alf jumped into the passenger seat as the two vehicles sped up and suddenly Johnny found himself having to sprint to keep up with them. Johnny reached out a hand and Alf grabbed it and pulled him up.

“If you want to travel first class mate you’d better get your finger out,” the driver was laughing.

“Yeah thanks a lot mate!” Johnny said out of breath.

Alf smiled at Johnny.

“These S.A.S blokes are all right.”

“You think so,” Johnny wasn’t at all impressed.

“He wouldn’t have left you behind,” Alf said looking at the driver. The driver looked over his shoulder at Johnny.

“Yes I would,” he said.

Johnny just squinted at him. Then the driver broke into a grin.

“Name’s Danny. Danny Boyle.”

“Alfie Dennis. And that there’s Johnny Larder.”

Johnny nodded for what could pass as a greeting.

“You get those scars from your plane crash?

“You all know about that?” Alf was surprised.

“I heard a bit about it. Something about a stolen German aeroplane. You wanna tell me about it?”

Alf couldn’t be bothered. He was tired of repeating the story.

“There’s not really much to tell.”

“Fair enough mate.”

“I wouldn’t mind learning a bit about what you do though.”

Danny looked Alf up and down.

“It’s all pretty boring stuff mate. Just making maps and logging stuff. Not really much to it.”



Every half an hour Rushton would pull his Jeep over to allow the convoy to continue with Doyle in the lead. He would wait for the towing vehicles to catch up. The first time he did this he was surprised to see the two engineers in the Jeep. The Jeep was more comfortable than the truck which would certainly be warmer.

“We’ll continue for another two hours,” he said once they’d stopped and got out of the vehicles. He spread a map across the jeep’s bonnet.

“Here,” he said pointing to a location on the map “We will take a short rest. The others will no doubt arrive there long before you do.”

He considered again the possibility of tipping the broken down Jeep over the side of the mountain. It would make life easier, but he could ill afford the loss.

“When you stop we’ll try to get it started again.”

“Yes sir,” Alf said “I think it’s fuel starvation. Can’t be sure until we have the proper tools.”

“Try it now,” Rushton ordered.

Danny turned the engine over once again.

“Stop!” Rushton said “You’ll wear the batteries down and if you keep turning it over we’ll have to bleed it too. I’m going to go ahead and catch the convoy again. When you get to this fork here….” he again pointed to his map “….I’ll leave an empty ammunition can on the road we take. Not sure which one it will be but the can will be somewhere near the turn. There’s been a fair bit of rain on the mountains lately so the higher road may not be accessible. Won’t know ’til we get there.”

“Understood sir.”

“Is there anything you need Boyle?” Rushton asked looking into the back of the Jeep.

Boyle leaned over the back of his seat. They had plenty of water, some food, spare fuel, a spare wheel, spare chains, shovels, first aid kit.

“You seem to have everything you need,” Rushton looked up at the Vickers ’K’ machine gun mounted above the rear seats.

“When was that last serviced?”

“Um not today sir. I think it was yesterday.”

“Might be a good idea to give it the once over just in case. You never know when you might need to use it.”

“I’ll do that sir,” Alf volunteered.

“Very well. I’m really beginning to like you Lieutenant. You are proving yourself to be of some worth.”

“Thank you sir.”

Rushton climbed back into his Jeep and roared away.

“’Ere Alf was he being sarcastic?”

Alf watched the dust kicked up by the speeding Jeep.

“No I don’t think so.”

“Take it from me,” Boyle said “The Major is the easiest man in the world to get on with but God help you if you ever upset him. Him and that guard dog of his sergeant Doyle.”



When they got to the fork they could see the ammunition case on the lower road. It was now spitting with rain and Boyle guessed Rushton hadn’t wanted to push his luck. Dry mountain roads could very easily become killer landslides, roads could be washed away in seconds burying everything in their path.

Alf looked up at the cloud covered peaks. It was much colder now and felt damp. He pulled his scarf up to cover his neck better and pulled the collar of his jacket as high as it would go over the scarf. Now it started to rain. The first cold drops stinging his face was a shock to the system. He wiped the water away.

“You might find some hats in the back somewhere,” Boyle said.

Johnny instantly began the search.

“Under the sheet.”

Johnny found a flat cap and an old hat that looked like a fedora and something that looked Australian. Boyle took the fedora, Johnny the Australian.

“Suits you,” Alf said.

His hat was too big and after trying to keep it on twice and failing because of the wind he threw it back at Johnny.

“Do you want this one then Alf?

Alf shook his head.

“You keep it.”

His short hair was wet in minutes. Boyle looked across at him and grinned. Alf just squinted back.

“You could always sit in the truck mate.”

Alf thought about it. The truck was cold and uncomfortable. You got thrown about a lot inside it. The Jeep wasn’t much better but the seats were more comfortable. The truck was at least dry inside. But then if he did sit inside it all he could do was look out at the Jeep following. He decided to stay where he was.

“I’ll stay where I am.”

“Suit yourself.”

Alf glanced up again at the craggy slopes above them. Rocks jutted out here and there, sometimes hanging out over the road. Sometimes looking up he could see rocks and stones tumbling down and once he saw animals, goats or sheep he couldn’t be sure. They were hundreds of feet up perched precariously above nothing. To fall would be certain death.

’Incredible animals’

Now it began to rain hard. The truck pulling the Jeep was getting slower and slower. The two vehicles limped in at the rendezvous point to join the others. They arrived to a great cheer.

“Glad you could make it Boyle.”

“What took you so long?”

“My grandfather drives quicker than you.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” Boyle said as his friends mocked him.

The three of them got out of their Jeep. Rushton was heading towards them.

“Oh here we go,” Johnny said “You two men can get to work on that Jeep straight away. The others have all had a rest. But you two can get straight to work. No rest for you….”

“Johnny!”

“Yeah well he can kiss my arse.”

“That’s enough before he hears you.”

“Well I’m getting tired of it Alf.”

“I know but just be careful what you say out loud son.”

“Still in one piece then I see,” Rushton said looking the Jeep over.

“Yes sir. We were hoping to have a short break before taking a proper look at her.”

“That’s absolutely fine lieutenant. Wilkins and his team will be dealing with it.”

Four men Alf and Johnny had not seen before set to work on the Jeep, undoing the chains, moving the truck. In no time the bonnet was up and the four of them were poking and prodding about.

“I’ve not noticed these men before sir,” Alf said.

“No. They’ve been out for nearly two weeks. This was our rendezvous point. We’re going to remain here for the rest of the afternoon. We’ll be moving on tonight. There will be a full moon.”

Billy Wilkins popped his head up from out under the bonnet.

“It’s damp Sir.”

“Damp.”

“Yes the leads are damp. It’s this damp desert air, especially first thing in the morning. The electrics, well, they just don’t like it Major. We’ve got a loose wire here or a damp connection or something. It could be the coil or the conductors….”

Rushton put up a hand to stop him. Wilkins was well known for running into details, giving lectures when one wasn’t necessary. He was also the best mechanic anyone had ever met.

“Spare me the details. Can you fix it?”

Wilkins’ enthusiasm as always was infectious.

“I hope so sir. I’m certainly going to try. In no time at all we’ll have old Vera here running. You mark my word sir.”

Johnny looked at Alf.

“Vera?”

“Yes Vera,” Boyle butted in.

“You named your Jeep Vera?”

“Yes Vera. After Vera Lynn….What’s so funny?”

“Bet Vera Lynn’s impressed. Giving her name to an old rust bucket.”

“This is a very good Jeep. We always name our Jeeps.”

“But Vera Lynn is a beautiful woman.”

Boyle was offended.

“Look mate we name our Jeeps after women all right! It’s the only thing that keeps us going.”

“All right you two that’s enough!”

Boyle glared at Alf.

“And I don’t take orders from you either.”

Something snapped in Alf. It was not often it happened and when it did it surprised even him. Sometimes a man just couldn’t take anymore. This time though he really saw red.

“I am an officer of the King’s army!” he bellowed “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to! Stand up and salute me man when you address me.”

Boyle jumped nervously to his feet. He was not used to being spoken to like this. Even Rushton didn’t speak to his men like that.

“I don’t care what you men do out here but I will not tolerate insubordination. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Sir,” Boyle replied “I will be reporting this to Major Rushton.”

“So will I,” Alf simmered “Now get out of my sight.”

Boyle scarpered, anxious to get away. Aware that his mates, some of them had witnessed the incident. He would go rushing straight to his C.O. about it. He was furious.

’These engineers have no right to give me orders’

Johnny whistled in surprise. Alf felt himself shaking with anger. He clenched his fists by his sides to control it. He was also aware that members of the L.R.D.G. were watching him.

Fifteen minutes later Johnny spotted Rushton heading towards them.

“Alf.”

Alf turned and saw.

“Oh!”

Alf and Johnny saluted. Rushton didn’t bother to return it. This warned Alf that he was probably on very thin ice.

“Lieutenant Dennis let’s you and I take a stroll.”

“Of course Sir.”

They left footprints in the damp sand as they walked. The rain had stopped for now but the black clouds on the horizon threatened more.

“Cigarette,” Rushton offered.

“Thank you.”

They stopped long enough to light them, cupping their hands over the flame in turn. Alf inhaled the first draught and it caught his throat and he coughed at the strong tobacco.

“These are a high tar,” Rushton said flipping over the carton with his fingers so he could read the label himself.

“They do take some getting used to.”

Alf nodded and coughed again. His eyes were watering. Rushton patted him on the back. Then suddenly the friendliness was gone. Alf noticed the change instantly.

“Lieutenant my men are a good bunch.”

Alf’s voice sounded strange from the coughing. Finally he was able to clear his throat.

“Yes Sir.”

“Better?”

The friendliness was back. Alf nodded, clearing his throat once more.

“Thank you.”

“Yes as I was saying. My men are a good lot. They work very hard out here, in all conditions, cold, heat, wet, and they never complain. Never ask for anything. Always going without. Sometimes spending weeks away from civilisation, missing out on the basic luxuries others may have. Having to sleep rough, in the backs of lorries or just under the stars….”

Alf opened his mouth to speak. Most soldiers out here had to live like that sometimes.

“….Never receiving mail, news from home of loved ones. The last time Boyle received any news was to tell him that both his parents had been killed when their house collapsed on top of them following a Luftwaffe strike.”

Alf rolled his eyes heavenwards.

“That’s terrible news Major.”

“He hasn’t got much to go home to has he.”

Alf felt terrible now, that he’d lost his rag with Boyle.

“No.”

“We’re the only family he has now.”

“There are many men with the same story to tell Major.”

“Do you know how old he is Lieutenant?”

Alf shook his head.

“No Sir.”

“He’s nineteen. Nineteen years old. And when this war is finished he has to go home to nothing and start his life all over again.”

“It’s a very hard story to bear Sir.”

“Like I said my men are a good bunch. They’re very loyal. Loyal to me. Most of them have only ever taken orders from myself or Sergeant Doyle.”

Alf knew where this conversation was going. He also knew that though he was a Lieutenant, no, an acting Lieutenant, he was not going to get anywhere with Rushton. Probably only into trouble. Trouble he and Larder could do without.

“I may have over-reacted Major.”

“May have? I’d say you definitely did man.”

“I apologise Sir. I guess I let the General’s orders go to my head.”

‘If only Boyle had behaved like that in front of Montgomery’

Alf winced. Blood would have flowed.

“Yes, well, I’m sure it won’t happen again Lieutenant. It really would be better for all concerned if you just try to get along while you are with us.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Well then no harm done. I trust this has given you something to think about.”

Wilkins whooped with delight when he got ’Vera’ started. It caught Rushton and Alf’s attention.

“Whatever you do mate keep her running,” he instructed Boyle, “The leads are damp but if you keep her going the power running through them should dry them out.”

Boyle jumped into the driver’s seat and patted the steering wheel.

“Well done old girl.”

He was still smiling when Alf and Rushton walked over.

“They got her going,” he said more to Alf than Rushton.

“He needs to keep her running Sir to help dry her out.”

“Well done Wilkins. Sergeant Doyle assign more fuel to this Jeep please. If he’s going to keep her running he’s going to need it. As for the rest of you, you’d better get some rest. We have a long night ahead of us.”