After being shifted from POW camp to POW camp, Captain McCall was finally placed in a small Garrison town Somewhere deep in Cyrenaica guarded by a contingent of underfed, undersupplied, and under-motivated Italian troops. They generally treated him well- even letting him taste their wine when they were lucky enough to acquire any. Here the fighting at El Alamein was little more than rumor, though both the former Skipper of L Patrol and the disillusioned Italians knew it was only a matter of time before Union Jacks flew across all of North Africa.
Meanwhile, after weeks of tips from friendly Arabs and intelligence from other Patrols and spies, the remaining boys of L Patrol (who by now had refit with new trucks- in some cases paid for by the men themselves) came to discover where their beloved Skipper was being held. They knew their goal was reckless, but luck had them carrying out patrols not 100 miles South, and the diversion order was given.
T1 patrol, led by McCall's driver Lt. Bowers, race up a road toward the Italian Garrison at dusk.
T2 patrol skirts around the Western flank of the Italian Garrison.
The Garrison.
The Italians see vehicles approaching from the South, but thinking it's supplies for them stand up and wave! They do receive ammunition, though not in any usable form!
"Let 'em have it boys!" Bowers screams as he looses a burst from his Vickers K.
The American .50 cal machine guns tear into the clay buildings.
The Italians are slow to recover, being caught completely by surprise.
"Go Go Go!!" desert veterans leap from the sides of their chev trucks under the cover of a wall of MG fire!
"They've started boys! Open up!" cries O'hara- the commander of T2 which has now flanked the Garrison. The Italians begin panicking and surrendering in numbers.
LRDG troops storm the defenses!
And completely overrun the defenders!
"Press on lads!"
Bowers stands to wave on the troops as a hail of rifle fire tears into his Jeep. Bowers slumps in the seat as the Jeep lights up.
Swerving around the wrecked Jeep, the patrol slams into the gate of the compound, MGs blazing!
McCall leaps to his feet in his cell, ready to fly with a faint smile on his face.
LRDG Troopers swarm the compound!
"What did I tell you about being heros? You're liable to get yourselves killed lads! Still- I'm glad to see you. Where's Bowers?"
The young troopers toss McCall a Thompson, but shake their heads in somber response to his question.
The patrols mount up, lead by T2 and head for safety just as the sun sets!
The first Italian reserves arrive in darkness, heading towards the burning wreck of the LRDG truck.
More Italian reserves arrive from a patrol, and immediately open fire on the LRDG!
"Quick- dim the lights! and keep moving!"
The Patrol attemps to slip by without returning fire.
But when the Italians spot them, both sides exchange fire!
"Hear that? Sounds like Jerry bikes to the West!"
"look out!" Two chev trucks go up in flames. A few troopers are able to jump free, firing their enfields wildly at the Italians. "They're right on top of us!"
The Italians surge forward! "Keep firing!" The remaining trucks pour every round they can muster into the rapidly advancing Italians!
The Italians are temporarily repulsed. "T2- let's go!" T2 escapes with most of their troops, but at the loss of 2 chevs.
"Aim for the muzzle flashes boys!" McCall screams from the back of Lt. Lonvingston's chev. T1 patrol attempts to race pass the Itlians with machine guns blazing!
The Italians are mercilessly gunned down. The scene is so brutal, McCall looks away as his patrol slips past in silence.
The German scouts attempt to catch up, but the patrol slips away into the darkness.
A stray shot from some Bersaglieri troops knocks out a chev- the crew jumps free.
"By God I think we're going to make it, Skip!" Cris Lovingston.
"Not so fast, mate- hear that?"
The blood drains from Lovingston's face as 5 shapes emerge from the darkness directly in front of them.
TO BE CONTINUED
