"Private?"

"Larder sir."

"Private Larder I am Major Basil Shaw of the 4 Indian army. I shall be assuming command here. Ia."

"But you're Englisha." 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 talka."

"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.