The least he deserved, thought Giles, was what Bates had recommended.
‘Anyone else involved in the action?’ asked the voice from the other side of the table.
‘Yes, his second in command, but I’m damned if I can remember his name.’
Giles had heard enough and decided to let Fisher know exactly what he thought of him. Leaving his second egg untouched, he marched out of the mess and headed straight for the ops room. He was so angry that he barged in without knocking. The moment he entered the room, he sprang to attention and saluted. ‘I do apologize, sir,’ he said. ‘I had no idea you were here.’
‘This is Mr Barrington, colonel,’ said Fisher. ‘You’ll remember that I told you he assisted me in yesterday’s action.’
‘Ah, yes. Barrington. Good show. You may not have seen company orders this morning, but you’ve been promoted to full lieutenant, and having read Captain Fisher’s report, I can tell you that you’ll also be mentioned in dispatches.’
‘Many congratulations, Giles,’ said Fisher. ‘Well deserved.’
‘Indeed,’ said the colonel. ‘And while you’re here, Barrington, I was just saying to Captain Fisher, now that he’s identified Rommel’s preferred route into Tobruk, we’ll need to double our patrols on the west side of the city and deploy a full squadron of tanks to back you up.’ He jabbed the map spread out on the table with his finger. ‘Here, here and here. I hope you both agree?’
‘I do, sir,’ said Fisher. ‘I’ll set about getting the platoon in place immediately.’
‘Can’t be too soon,’ said the colonel, ‘because I have a feeling it won’t be long before Rommel returns, and this time he won’t be on a reconnaissance mission but leading the full force of the Afrika Korps. We must be lying in wait and be sure that he walks straight into our trap.’
‘We’ll be ready for him, sir,’ said Fisher.
‘Good. Because I’m putting you in charge of our new patrols, Fisher. Barrington, you will remain second in command.’
‘I’ll have my report on your desk by midday, sir,’ said Fisher.
‘Good show, Fisher. I’ll leave you to work out the details.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Fisher, standing to attention and saluting as the colonel left the room.
Giles was about to speak, but Fisher quickly jumped in. ‘I’ve put in a recommendation that Sergeant Harris should be awarded a posthumous military medal, and Corporal Bates should also be mentioned in dispatches. I hope you’ll support me.’
‘Am I also to understand that you’ve been put up for a Military Cross?’ asked Giles.
‘That’s not in my hands, old fellow, but I’m happy to go along with whatever the commanding officer sees fit. Now, let’s get down to business. With six patrols now under our command, I propose that we . . .’
After what had become known by 1 and 2 sections as ‘Fisher’s Fantasy’, everyone from the colonel downwards was on red alert. Two platoons patrolled the western edge of the town, one on, one off, night and day, no longer wondering if, only when, Rommel would appear over the horizon at the head of his Afrika Korps.
Even Fisher, in his newly elevated state as hero, had to appear occasionally on the outer perimeter, if simply to maintain the myth of his heroic deed, but only long enough to be sure everyone had seen him. He would then report back to the tank squadron commander, three miles to the rear, and set up his field phones.
The Desert Fox chose April 11th, 1941 to begin his assault on Tobruk. The British and Australians couldn’t have fought more bravely when defending the perimeter against the German onslaught. But as the months passed and supplies of food and ammunition began to run low, few doubted – though it was never voiced – that it could only be a matter of time before the sheer size of Rommel’s army would overwhelm them.
It was a Friday morning, just as the desert haze was clearing, that Lieutenant Barrington scanned the horizon with his binoculars and focused on rows and rows of German tanks.
‘Shit,’ he said. He grabbed the field phone as a shell hit the building he and his men had selected as their observation post. Fisher came on the other end of the line. ‘I can see forty, possibly fifty tanks heading towards us,’ Giles told him, ‘and what looks like a full regiment of soldiers to back them up. Permission to withdraw my men to a more secure position where we can regroup and take up battle formation?’
‘Hold your ground,’ said Fisher, ‘and once the enemy’s within range, engage them.’
‘Engage them?’ said Giles. ‘What with, bows and arrows? This isn’t Agincourt, Fisher. I’ve got barely a hundred men facing a regiment of tanks, with nothing more than rifles to protect ourselves. For God’s sake, Fisher, allow me to decide what’s best for my men.’
‘Hold your ground,’ repeated Fisher, ‘and engage the enemy when they come within range. That’s an order.’