Operation Carthage (Carter's Commandos Book 4), page 20
With a bit of luck, the flanking force to the north wouldn’t be in Hanomags. If they were, Carter had a problem.
He called Fred Chalk over to him and together they went to find the CO. Carter briefed him on his plan. Vernon checked the layout of the road and nodded his agreement. “Not exactly the Tower of London as far as defences are concerned, but it’s better than being stuck in the open. I’ll give you all the mortars and bombs that we still have. Give me thirty minutes after I’ve passed through your positions, then you can withdraw.
“I’ll do my best, Sir.”
“I know you will, Steven. That’s why I gave you the job.” Vernon turned away and started calling men towards him, readying them for the withdrawal.
“OK, Sgt Major. Get the men back to the road and get them digging like their lives depend on it, because they probably do.”
. * * *
Carter surveyed his defences, looking for anything he could improve. There wasn’t much. He had six sections which equalled forty-eight men, one officer, a Sergeant and Sergeant Major. For weaponry he had four two inch mortars, a dozen bombs for each one, six Bren guns, rifles, seven Thompson sub machine guns, not including his own, and about a hundred rounds of ammunition per man plus a few grenades.
Oh, and an armoured car which was probably more of a liability than an asset.
He had split his force in two, half the men prepared to engage the northern advance and half looking southwards. Neither force was strong enough to repel a serious attack. The best they could do was slow them down.
Half an hour, that was all Vernon had asked him to hold. Carter looked at his watch. Still fifteen minutes to go. Plenty of time for a determined enemy to roll right over them.
The good news was that one of their own patrols had identified the vehicles on the northern flank as being half track trucks, not Hanomags. At least that was something. It allowed him to put three mortars on his southern flank, where the greater risk was likely to appear. The armoured car he put on the northern side. Its heavy machine gun would keep the trucks at bay, forcing the Germans onto their feet where the mortar and Bren guns could do their deadly work. With a bit of luck, he could keep them back about half a mile, trying to avoid his rifles. The .303 weapons weren’t much threat at that range - unless they were in the hands of a commando. His men were excellent shots and on a long rifle range could score far more than the average number of hits for that distance.
On the other hand, the Germans would be bound to deploy light machine guns, their favoured weapon for infantry attacks. He hoped the hastily erected dirt parapets would protect his men.
On the other flank he was dependent on pure luck. Nothing he had would stop a tank, but a lucky mortar bomb might land inside the open top of the rear of a Hanomag, wreaking havoc amongst the troops inside. It was a faint hope though.
The Germans would know by now that they were no longer inside the hospital perimeter. Despite dire warnings of retribution to both the medical staff and the prisoners, it would be too much to hope that someone hadn’t sneaked out on the far side, making their way to the recce Hanomag where it still sat about half a mile to the east.
Dust rose to the south of the fuel dump, signalling the German advance on that side. Carter raised his binoculars and tried to penetrate the haze. There was a tank in the lead, no doubt about that. The short barrel of its 5 cm gun jutted through the dust, pointing the way towards them. Behind, the dark shape of three Hanomags were visible from time to time, travelling in line abreast, about thirty yards between each vehicle.
But it was to the north that the fighting started. The armoured car had moved forward into the gap between his men and the Germans and engaged the soft skinned trucks, just as he had agreed with Ernie Barraclough. The further the vehicle was from the tank, the happier Carter was.
On the far side of the hospital and the burnt out fuel dump, Carter could just make out the rest of the German force. They were spread out in an extended line, apparently waiting to see what their comrades could achieve.
Why had the Germans committed so few troops? Carter wondered. No doubt they were aware they were only facing a rear guard, but that didn’t mean it didn’t have teeth. It suggested that the Jerries still didn’t realise they were facing commandos, so they expected an easy victory.
The German tank fired a round from its main armament, but it flew well behind Carter’s men, sending up a harmless gout of sand and rock. More worrying was the stream of bullets from its secondary armament, a machine gun. The bullets stitched a line across the front of the defences, making his men duck. Carter realised how exposed he was and hurried to take up his position in fox hole he had dug in the centre of the defensive line.
The four enemy vehicles turned in formation, moving into the gap between the burnt-out fuel dump and the area where 3 and 4 Troops had ambushed the Italian re-supply convoy the previous night. They were now no more than half a mile distant. The two outer Hanomags started firing their machine guns, the third being unsighted by the bulk of the tank to their front.
Carter ordered the mortars to open fire at extreme range. The only chance they had was to reduce the odds by inflicting damage on the armoured half tracks. A spurt of sand and fire showed where the mortar bomb landed, close to the right hand vehicle, but not close enough to do any damage. The second and the third bombs were no closer. It was like throwing a pebble into a millrace in the hope of hitting a fish.
An increasing noise caused Carter to look up and behind him. It was the sound of aero engines, transcending the chatter of small arms fire and the distant crump of mortar bombs. The three fighter aircraft were back. Carter muttered silent thanks to the senior officer who had decided that Carter and his men shouldn’t be abandoned.
The fist aircraft streaked low over their positions, low enough for Carter to see three small objects detach themselves from the underside of the aircraft and streak downwards. They hit the ground just in front of the tank, covering it in debris. But the vehicle emerged seconds later, unscathed.
The Hanomags, however, came to a sudden standstill. Although they were armoured, with their passenger compartments open to the sky they were far more vulnerable to shrapnel and debris. Troops spilled out of the back, streaming away to either side, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the vehicles that would surely be the next target for the aircraft.
The first aircraft climbed and turned, leaving the attack zone clear for the next in line. Again Carter saw the bombs drop from beneath the wings and fuselage. The tank seemed to disappear in a ball of flame and smoke as one bomb struck. The other two exploded harmlessly to one side.
When the smoke cleared, Carter used his binoculars to try to assess the damage. Where once there had been a tank turret with a 50 mm gun extending from it, there was now just a gaping hole in the tank’s fuselage, flames flickering up from it as something inside burned. The barrel of the tank’s main armament lay on the ground nearly fifty feet away, flung there by the bomb’s blast. The rest of the turret lay in several large lumps, scattered around the vehicle.
The third aircraft began its attack. The furthest Hanomag started to move again, but away from Carter’s position. It turned, making a run for safety. The aircraft, however, was more intent on the vehicle in the middle, releasing its bombs as it passed the wreckage of the tank, so they continued forward under their own momentum. None of the three bombs seemed to do any damage, until Carter saw a tendril of smoke rising from the Hanomag’s engine compartment. The tendril became a puff, the puff became a stream and then smoke was pouring from the engine compartment in great waves. The driver and gunner abandoned their crippled vehicle and ran to join their colleagues taking refuge some distance away.
But the three aircraft weren’t yet finished with the Germans. The lead aircraft lined itself up again and started its second diving attack, flickers of flame at the leading edges of its wings as it started to machinegun the troops on the ground. Completing its run, it made a tight turn and flew west over Carter’s positions, waggling its wings before climbing away to turn back ready for another strafing1 run.
The message was clear enough. ‘Time for you to go; we’ve got your back.’
“Sgt Major Chalk.” Carter bellowed to make himself heard above the roar of aircraft engines. “Double these two sections back half a mile and dig fresh positions.”
He didn’t wait to see if his orders would be obeyed; there was no need. Instead he ran across to Ernie Barraclough’s sections.
“Your two sections are going to do a fighting retreat.” He told him. It was a standard manoeuvre. One section would remain facing the enemy, ready to engage, while the other withdrew fifty yards. Then they would take up defensive positions while the first section withdrew, the two sections leapfrogging past each other until they reached safety, or until ... Carter stopped himself before he could complete the thought.
He searched for the armoured car, spotting it moving back towards them, its turret turned rearwards, towards the enemy and firing the occasional machine gun burst to keep the enemy’s heads down. He waved his hands frantically, trying to attract the driver’s attention.
The vehicle speeded up and in less than a minute it pulled up alongside Carter. Prof Green’s head appeared above the top of the turret.
“What are you doing in there?” Carter snapped, then chided himself for asking a stupid question. When danger was around, Green was usually to be found close by. “Don’t tell me! Glass and O’Driscoll are in there with you.”
“We are that, Sorr.” Paddy O’Driscoll’s cheery face appeared alongside Green’s.
Carter let out an exasperated sigh, but he had no time to pursue the matter right then. “I want this armoured car to keep pace with the rearmost section at all times. You are to keep the enemy at a safe distance while we withdraw. Got that?”
“Keep the enemy at a safe distance.” “Green replied in a monotone.
“Would that be a safe distance for them, or a safe distance for us, Sorr?” O’Driscoll beamed.
“Shut it, Paddy!” Green advised, pushing the Irishman’s head back down inside the turret. “We’ll cover your backs, Boss.” Green said. “I take it you’ll be with the rearmost section as well?”
“I will Prof. And if another tank turns up, I want the three of you out of there and running like hell as soon as I give the word.”
“We won’t need telling twice.” His head ducked back inside the armoured car and its engine revved as the driver, presumably Danny Glass, steered the vehicle out onto the northern flank. German infantry could be seen in the distance, making darting runs from meagre cover to meagre cover as they sought to close the gap on the commandos. A burst of machinegun fire from the vehicle sent them diving for cover.
The two sections under Ernie Barraclough were Charlie and Delta. Carter gave Barraclough command of Charlie while he took control of Delta. As they climbed out of their shallow defences, Carter saw one man lying still. He walked over and prodded the man with his toe. He didn’t move. Carter turned him onto his back, reeling back in horror as he saw that the man no longer had a face. A bullet had shattered against a rock in the hastily constructed parapet, smashing the missile apart, the fragments flailing the man’s face. One larger piece must have penetrated his skull to kill him. Carter hoped it was a quick death.
He reached inside the man’s shirt and snapped the fibreboard identity disc from the chord on which it hung. Taking the man’s rifle he unlocked the bolt and withdrew it from the weapon and slid it into his pocket. There was no way he was going to leave a working British weapon for the Germans to use. He planted the barrel deep into the soil to mark the man’s position, then turned and trotted to catch up with the men who were already heading towards Charlie section fifty yards to their rear. They walked backwards, never letting their eyes leave the enemy. They could drop into firing positions in a split second if need be.
1Strafing – Ironically, this word is of German origin ‘straffen’, meaning to punish. It took on its present meaning during the First World War when troops first came under aerial attack from machine guns mounted on aircraft.
11 – Dingoes
The morning wore on, with Carter’s men withdrawing yard by yard towards the head of the wadi and the safety of the ravine. For a while the three aircraft continued to harass the enemy but, finally, out of ammunition and short on fuel, they had to return to base. Carter didn’t expect to see them again.
The Germans took the opportunity to advance more swiftly, calling up another tank to replace the casualty. Still Carter wondered why they didn’t commit their full force. It didn’t make any sense.
The armoured car made swift forays forward to send the infantry to ground once again, before withdrawing. The newly arrived tank peppered it with 50 mm shells but failed to score a direct hit. Tanks were great against static or slow-moving targets, like other tanks, but against a more nimble opponent the gun was less effective and if the tank itself was moving the gun was almost useless. It could only be a matter of time, though, before the tank landed a killing shot.
Once again, the skirmish line drew level with the two sections that had been sent ahead to dig in. Carter sought out Ernie Barraclough, who had withdrawn with the two sections who had prepared the positions.
“We lost another man.” Carter said, his mood sombre. “Trooper Whitham.”
“Machine gun?”
“No. It was a single shot. I think they’ve got a sniper deployed.”
“Not much we can do about that right now.”
That was true enough. The normal counter to a sniper was to deploy your own snipers to try and locate and kill him. That wasn’t an option for a force that was withdrawing. Carter checked his map. Behind them there was a gentle rise, no more than a few feet high but a hill all the same, when compared with the surrounding terrain. Beyond that was more flat ground for about a mile until they reached the wadi. Then they had another two miles to go to reach the foothills, and another mile or so before they would be inside the embracing arms of the ravine. The Germans could chase them in there if they wanted, but the commandos would pick them off like flies if they tried.
Carter examine the slope, wondering why Ernie Barraclough hadn’t dug his new positions at the top. Always take the high ground. It was golden rule, but Ernie seemed to have forgotten it. He’d have to have a word when this was all over.
But for the moment, he tried to work out if it offered enough of a height advantage to be worth defending. As his eyes scanned the low ridge they opened wide, not believing what they were seeing.
It was the unmistakable angular shape of a turret. Too small to be that of a tank, he thought, but definitely large enough to be that of an armoured car, lying ‘hull down’ as the tankies called it. The bulk of the vehicle was lying below the summit of the hill, like an iceberg concealed beneath the sea, making it harder for an enemy to spot it.
There was the unmistakable sound of revving engines, one from either end of the hill. Around the flanks came two armoured cars, one on each side, their large wheels churning up clouds of dust. They raced in an arc to get around the commandos’ positions and hem them in. Anyone trying to escape would be cut down by one or other of the three vehicles.
But when the two vehicles stopped they didn’t aim their weapons at the commandos. They aimed east, towards the advancing Germans. Carter rose from his cover and trotted forward until he was standing beside the nearest vehicle. It wasn’t unfamiliar to him. He had seen several just like it on the dockside in Algiers. Dingoes, they were called, manufactured in Coventry by the Daimler company.
The roof of the turret folded back and a figure rose, climbing out to stand on the hull. The soldier removed a pair of headphones, laid them on the top of the turret and jumped the short distance to the ground. He extended his hand.
“Tony Gossard, 1st Derbyshire Yeomanry.” He introduced himself. He wore Lieutenant’s ‘pips’ on his shoulders. His educated tones didn’t quite cover up his East Midlands accent.
“Steven Carter.” Carter answered, taking the offered hand and shaking it. “15 Commando. Where on earth did you spring from?”
“We’ve been sent to keep an eye on this area to make sure that the Jerries don’t try to outflank the Yanks. But I could ask the same question of you. That fireball last night; was that your work?”
“It was. We were sent to blow up a fuel dump and that explosion was us doing the job. Have you seen our main force? They should have passed through here a short while ago.”
“We saw some trucks heading west. They looked like Eyeties, but they were too far away for us to engage. Besides, we could hear fighting from this direction and we thought we had better take a look.”
“I’m glad you did. We’re being chased by a Jerry tank and a whole load of mechanised infantry. At least three Hanomags.”
“That Italian armoured car, is it with you?” Gossard nodded in the direction of the vehicle, which was parked next to the defensive positions, its engine burbling as it idled.
“It is.”
“You’re lucky. My lads wanted to take it out. But I could see that you were British, so I made them hold their fire until we could find out what was going on.”
“You have armour piercing weapons?” Carter’s voice soared with hope.
“Don’t get excited. They’re only Boys1 rifles. They could take out your armoured car, but they won’t stop a tank, as we’ve found out in the past, to our cost.”
“Pity.”
“Is that all that’s behind you? One tank and some mech infantry?
“There’s more a bit further back, on the other side of the field hospital. Another tank and we estimate a battalion strength of infantry all told. They may have moved forward now. I’ve been puzzling as to why they haven’t committed the whole force. If they had, we’d be dead by now.”
