A child's face was peering out of a ground floor window directly in front of Tosh. The child began smiling. Tosh raised a finger to his lips.

"Sshhh!"

He felt into his pockets and pulled out a bar of chocolate. He held it up to the child's face. In the moonlight he saw the little girl's face light up. Suddenly her father's face appeared above hers. He stared wide eyed at Tosh's face. Then he saw the offered chocolate. He took it, nodded, and pulled his daughter away from the window. He took one last look at Tosh and reached out and pulled the shutters to. Tosh turned his back to the wall and sank down it slowly. He sighed with relief.

*That had been close!'

Rushton crept over.

"Alright?"

"Bloody hell sir. I thought they were going to give us away."

"Let's hope they don't. Come on Tosh get yourself together," Rushton put a hand on Wilkes shoulder "Move out."

Doyle looked again through the binoculars. He was at the corner of a house on the main road into Gabes. Ahead by some four hundred yards or so was the first of the German watchtowers. He had been watching for the last ten minutes. There had been a guard up there. Five minutes ago someone had descended the ladder. From where he remained hidden Doyle had seen that the man had had his rifle over his shoulder. The post now had appeared deserted for the last five minutes. Doyle checked again for signs of life. There appeared to be none. Behind him his group waited patiently. He gave them the signal to move forward. Then he saw the German helmet and then the remaining guard. He frantically gave his men the signal to halt and gestured for them to move back. The German had stopped and was staring in their direction.

'Had he seen them?'

Doyle felt his heart pounding. It would be terrible to be discovered now. This mission had felt doomed from the beginning. He continued to watch the German, who hadn't moved and was staring down the street at their position. Doyle felt sure the man was staring straight down the binoculars, straight into his eyes. He slowly took them away and put them down. He put his hand out to the man next to him who handed him the scoped Lee Enfield rifle. Doyle put the scope to his eye and adjusted the sights. He pulled his eye away and put it back again.

The German had disappeared!

Doyle searched for him. He wasn't at the ladder or on the ground near the post. Doyle couldn't believe it. He'd only taken his eyes away for a second. His men couldn't move on this post without knowing the whereabouts of the sentry. He checked the tower again.

The German re-appeared where he'd stood before.

Doyle could see the man's features clearly. Doyle felt his finger on the trigger. He could take the shot now. The bullet would hit the German right between the eyes. He felt the thrill of the kill rise in him.

The trouble was the Lee Enfield would make so much noise.

It would definitely give them away.

It was no good. They would have to get closer to take the tower.

"You're lucky Fritz. I could pop you now," Doyle said into the rifle's scope, "But I've got to get closer."

He shouldered the weapon and prepared to move on the position.

They moved on the tower with stealth, using the buildings for cover. Doyle waited until he was sure the coast was clear, then moved to the base of the ladder and slowly ascended. At the top he peered over just enough to see his target. The German was leaning over the parapet with his back to Doyle. Doyle moved up the rungs and stopped level with the guard.

Corporal Gunther Shroess had heard the ladder creak and presumed it was private Willi Hoefel returning from the lavatory. The private had been complaining of an upset stomach earlier. Shroess turned, smiling. He liked the young private very much.

"Feeling better Willi?"

The smile vanished. Instead of seeing the young private in a Wehrmacht uniform he was greeted by a man dressed all in black, blacked face, holding a black silenced pistol.

Shroess opened his mouth to shout as Doyle pulled the trigger.

Twice!

Shroess staggered forward. He knew he'd been shot but surprisingly he felt no pain, just a warmth. At such close range the bullets had passed through his body and had left via his back. His legs felt heavy. He now found he couldn't move them. He tried to reach out for Doyle but his arms were numb. He died on his feet and fell forward as Doyle caught him. The sergeant lowered him onto a wooden chair and arranged him so he looked like he was napping. Next he checked the tower for anything of use. There were some documents on an upturned crate. Doyle glanced through them. There was nothing of importance. Next to them he found some drawings, sketches, of various desert landscapes, camels, a really good one of the Medina and one, that was particularly good, of a beautiful woman. Doyle brought it up close to his face.

"Now who are you?" he asked the picture.

He rolled it up and slid it into his trouser pocket. He looked across at the dead German.

"You can draw Fritz. I'll give you that," he tapped the picture inside his pocket "You don't mind sharing her do you?"

He leafed through other sheets of paper but the rest were all blank. There were some food cans on a small table, some empty, some half full, some unopened. A half finished can of sardines and a fork with some bread were nearby. Doyle went to the edge and took out his cigarette lighter. He cupped his hand over the flame and exposed it twice as was the pre-arranged signal, then snapped the lighter shut and descended the ladder.

Doyle took out the next two towers. These both had two guards each and he had to shoot the first guard from the top of the ladder and quickly rush up to finish them off. In the fourth, unbelievably, both guards were asleep. No doubt safe in the knowledge that the first tower would raise the alarm in time for them to wake up and take action. Two shots each in the head and they were dead. Not even stirring at the sound of the silenced gun.

The next tower was on the other side of the town square. The two other teams could now move and take up their positions.

Rushton and his men were ready for the fortress. They were hiding in amongst trees and shrubs waiting for his signal to begin. Alf and Johnny's group stayed together. They would split once they reached the harbour.

They were ready.

They could see Rushton.

They all now waited for his signal.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

Private Willi Hoefel closed the door to the toilet behind him. He was glad to be out. The toilet was no more than a crude wooden hole above a pit. There was no running water and the smell was hideous.

He'd had an upset stomach all day and was concerned it may become dysentery. Many of his unit at Gabes were now ill, some seriously. His friend Gunther Shroess, had read somewhere that it was contagious and was spread by direct contact with a sufferer and by the flies. Over the winter months the fly population was reduced but now it was April the weather was warming up again. So far he and Shroess had avoided the sickness. This morning though he had woken up with what he'd thought was bad wind. He only just made it to the toilet. Now he was leaving the latrine for the fifth time that day. He didn't feel ill and had a good appetite. He'd left an unfinished can of sardines and some bread and was looking forward to finishing them when he got back. Time for them soon enough. Willi reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a half smoked cigarette. He'd hand rolled some earlier but only ever smoked half at a time. He cupped his hands around the flame of his lighter in case he was seen by anyone, particularly an officer. He was, still, officially, on duty. He knew Gunther would cover for him though. Gunther was a good friend. But Gunther hated cigarette smoke and would never let Willi smoke in the tower. Other men smoked in theirs. Gunther said that the officers knew it went on but had to actually catch a sentry in the act before they could do anything about it. Willi took a pull on the cigarette. It felt warming to him.

'How could anyone not get pleasure from it?" he asked himself 'I mean what else do we men have all out here if not this.'

A large puppy with gangly legs and big feet came loping around a corner. It stopped to sniff at something. Then realising the item wasn't edible it raised its head and sniffed the air for some time. Then it caught sight of Willi and came running over, its clumsy feet flicking out in all directions. The puppy sniffed around his feet and he watched it from above, clicking his tongue at it.

"Hello," he said "Hello," between tongue clicks. The puppy threw itself into a sitting position bumping his leg. It looked up at him with big, bright, shiny eyes. Willi flicked his cigarette butt into the road and bent down to ruffle the hair on the puppy's head.

"You're a handsome little fellow aren't you."

Willi reached under the dog's front legs and picked it up to cuddle it. The puppy turned its head and a big pink tongue came out and lapped at his face.

"Hello," Willi said again to it "You're a little small to be out here on your own aren't you? Where's your mother?"

The puppy was sniffing at his jacket pocket, not the one with the cigarettes in, the other one, something better. Willi smiled and reached into the pocket.

"I know what you can smell."

He took out four squares of chocolate, blew some fluff off them and held them to the puppy's nose. The tongue came out again and licked at the chocolate. Then tiny little milk teeth bit at it. The puppy bit some chocolate off but dropped it. Willi put him down and quickly broke the squares up and put them on the road. The puppy happily munched through one of them, leaving a trail of drool over the others. Then he promptly lost interest and proceeded to sit and lick his bits.

"I guess you are trying to say that tastes better than my chocolate then. Ah well I didn't want it anyway."

Not far away an adult dog began barking and the puppy got up and bounded off in the direction of its mother's voice.

"Goodbye little one! For I won't be here this time tomorrow."

He took another cigarette from his jacket and lit it. Gunther wouldn't miss him for a few more minutes.

*Perhaps I should have named the puppy Gunther!'

Willi chuckled but he knew Gunther would have seen the funny side of it.

*Gunther would have probably called him Adolf! Secretly of course. No one would dare say that out loud. No one would dare question the final victory.'

But tonight the final victory for Germany was a long way away as her forces were planning to flee Tunisia.

Willi stood staring at the night sky enjoying his second cigarette. Occasionally he could see glimpses of the moon and stars through the breaks in the clouds. From afar came the sound of boat engines as they chugged backwards and forwards from the harbour. They were several streets away. The puppy's mother was still barking. She was now joined by other dogs. Rushton and his men approaching the Medina stopped.

"Why the hell are those dogs barking?"

His men waited in silence. With signs he told them to stay still and he moved through some bushes for a better view from cover. The walls of the Medina were fifty feet high in places and crenelated. All was quiet. Of the guards he could see none seemed agitated. In one of the four gateways he could see a machine gun nest surrounded by sandbags. Two German soldiers lolling around nearby. Rushton watched for a further minute then backtracked to his men. Clearly the barking dogs a sign that they'd not been given away. Then the dogs stopped and it was only one that could be heard. Finally this one fell quiet as well. Rushton made his way back to his men.

"Move out," he whispered.

They followed him in silence.

Willi took a last drag on his second cigarette and flicked it away to join the other. He checked that he had everything. His tin helmet he'd left in the tower.

'I'd better get back' he told himself.

He adjusted his rifle over his shoulder and climbed the ladder to the tower. At the top he instantly saw that Gunther had fallen asleep in the chair.

"I'm back," he called softly.

No reaction. Willi smiled.

'How long should I let him sleep? He can't have been asleep for more than ten minutes. It's lucky an officer hasn't climbed the tower or we'd both be for it.'

"Hey sleepyhead at least you didn't finish my sardines."

Willi picked up the unfinished can of fish, wiped the fork on his trousers and got stuck in. They were strong tasting and oily. The way he liked them.

"I saw a really cute puppy while I was gone. You would have loved him. I know how you love dogs. He had a broad head and big feet. He's going to be huge when he's grown up. I wish we could have adopted him. Take him back to Germany. Poor mite. He can't have much of a life here. Probably scrounging for scraps to eat everyday and never a decent meal. Perhaps we could take his mother as well or why not the whole litter. They could grow up with me in my village in the mountains.

Willi began daydreaming of his home in the village of Altenahr, near the Rhine, near Cologne and Aachen. His family growing grapes on the slopes of the hills surrounding the black knights castle, the Borg Ahre. He could see in his mind his parents and both sisters working to produce the wine that they made, the family business. He, also working, his dogs running freely, chasing birds, bees and butterflies in the summer months. Both his sisters beautiful. Neither yet taken by a man to be their husband. His father as strong as an ox. His mother as tough as a nut. One day they would inherit the vineyard and in their turn his son or sons.

"I will have at least four," he said out loud "I miss them," he said to Gunther. The ache of being away from them so strong, so painful.

Gunther's right arm slipped off his lap and dangled down by his side. Willi waited to see if he would wake up. He didn't. He just sat motionless, with his helmet pushed down over his head, obscuring most of his face. Willi could only see his mouth.

Motionless.

Too motionless!

Willi moved a step closer and called his friends name.

Then he noticed the thin trickle of blood in the corner of Gunther's mouth. He felt a fear of dread sweep through him. He picked up a lamp and held it towards his companion, shielding his own face with his free hand from the light.

"Gunther!" he called again much louder.

Then he saw the wet patch on his friends jacket. Just below his left breast. Willi shakily moved forward almost trance like and reached out with shaking fingers and touched the damp. He turned his hand and brought it up to his face.

It was covered in blood.

Gunther's blood!

Panic overtook him. He was shaking Gunther's lifeless body. Afraid now of being left on his own. Then in the next instant he was scrabbling to get to the big, red, alarm button mounted on top of the electric box. He reached it and smacked it down with all his might.

Rushton and his men were in place ready to storm the first of the machine gun nests. The scoped Enfield trained on the guard on the left. Tosh Wilkes the man behind the sight.

"Could you guarantee killing them with the silenced pistol Tosh?" Rushton asked.

"Not at this distance."

Rushton and all knew that the scoped rifle would make enough noise to alert the whole garrison but they had no choice. The sentries needed to be taken out quickly. Tosh the best marksman any of them had ever seen. The three Germans were lolling about near their post. Two of them were craftily smoking. The third was clearly telling them a story. Tosh sighted on the man talking. He was the closest to the MG42. Tosh would have just seconds to get off three shots. Two of which would be on, undoubtedly, moving targets. He took two deep breaths and held it on the third. He trained the scope on the German's midriff and slowly brought it up past his chest, his neck, his face and settled it on the forehead. Tosh pulled his finger back on the trigger. It reached its zenith. Then he released at the same time his eyes widened. The Germans had suddenly sprung into life. The two smokers throwing down their cigarettes and rushing for their weapons. The man Tosh had been about to kill lunging for the MG42.

"What the hella.?" Rushton stopped in mid sentence as the sound of the far away alarm reached them.

The German guards were randomly pointing their weapons, unsure as to where the threat lay. One of them ran over and pushed a red button. Their alarm now began sounding, accompanied by a red flashing light. Tosh took careful aim and sent two bullets into the electrical box silencing the alarm. The noise of his rifle wicked. A third bullet took out the red flashing light smashing it. The German MG42 suddenly burst into life. Its gunner sending red hot deadly bullets to all sides as he moved it to and fro strafing the area just ahead of the British. Rushton and his men lay flat on their faces, their hands covering their features until the bullets stopped.

Rushton and Tosh looked up. The two German guards with the rifles were running, keeping close to the wall. Inside the fortress German Wehrmacht soldiers were rushing out of the main building to take up the fight. Rushton fired a burst from his Sten into the chest of the first German running along the fifty foot high Medina wall. Tosh brought the second one down with a shot from the Enfield. It took the German in the throat and he collapsed in a spray of blood. The MG42 began spitting its deadly projectiles in all directions until another bullet from Tosh punctured the gunner's steel helmet. The force of the impact spun him around and he collapsed, sprawled over the sandbags surrounding the machine gun, dead.

Rushton sprang to his feet.

"Go! Go! Go!" he shouted.

His men jumped up and followed, running doubled over, guns at the ready. They covered the open area in seconds and dashed through the stone archway. The German who'd been hit in the neck was still alive and a well aimed boot from Tosh crushed his throat killing him.

Inside the Medina courtyard there were a variety of motor vehicles, trucks, cars, Kubels, motorcycles. In front of the main steps leading up to the German HQ were two machine gun nests. These opened fire at the British immediately forcing the S.A.S to dive for cover. The Germans stopped firing. Not wishing to waste ammo or hit their own vehicles unnecessarily. Everytime a British soldier raised his head though it was greeted with a burst from a forty two.

Shouts in German echoed across the square.

Rushton peered between the front wheel of a half track and its bumper. He could see Wehrmacht running from a corner gateway into the Medina. The men of the Long Range Desert Group were being boxed in and for now there was nothing they could do.

Alf and Johnny kept in the shadows between buildings. From where they hid they could see boats anchored at the harbour. Sentries were patrolling. Pacing up and down near the water's edge. On the submarine now there was activity. The hatches were open and occasionally crew members would enter and leave via them. There were some crates nearby. A soldier was checking their contents with a crowbar and then when satisfied he nailed the lids back down. A small tractor came rumbling along pulling trailers loaded with cans full of fuel. Boat crews began offloading them onto their vessels, storing them anywhere and everywhere. All available space was filled.