An Englishman's Castle

The armour must be through by first light, and it’s already half past five The sappers have made it, however, and as dawn breaks the two heavy squadrons of the Royal Wilts begin to trickle through the far side of the gaps and move slowly up to the summit of the ridge. All may yet be well.
And, as the dawning day steals the colours from the pyrotechnics in the sky, the strangest of scenes is revealed. A sort of orderly confusion reigns everywhere and the activity is intense. Within the minefields themselves small segregated battles are still raging where enemy pockets of resistance are being mopped up with fierce determination. For those individuals concerned, their immediate struggle is as important as anything else in the whole operation The gaps in the minefields are cluttered up with mechanical contrivances of all kinds. Shermans, Grants, Valentines and Crusaders take up most of the space, but soft-skinned vehicles jostle for what is left with the anti-tank guns and supporting weapons which are trying to get up to the infantry. Droves of surly prisoners axe herded along whilst doctors fuss around in jeeps, and ambulances go quietly about their business. Wounded men are dressed and propped up along the sides of the tracks to be picked up later. Others, less fortunate, are tidied out of the way of the oncoming troops. In one place a stretcher bearer is going through the pockets of a dead British soldier. He comes across some snap-shots. Bathing at Tel-Aviv. A cheerful waving group of healthy looking young men! He covers the dead mans face, places the photographs under the steel helmet on his chest and passes on.
The mine sappers are pressing on as fast as they possibly dare with their steady routine of detecting, marking, lifting and so on. The infantry up forward are fighting grandly to hold the positions they have so dearly won ... whilst they wait for the armour to come up. But the tanks are not so very far behind now. If only the sappers can clear that last obstacle it won’t take them so very long to get to their final objective. Already, although this is their first experience of this kind, the men are settling down to it. The strangest jobs so soon become routine in the army. There is even a military policemen walking about in the minefields asking people for their identity cards A necessary precaution this, as a matter of fact, ridiculous as it may seem. All kinds of spies and observers might be drifting about. There is also a minefield “ traffic cop ‘—a peculiar job indeed. But routine must go on, even in the waiting tanks where some of the crews are filling in the time with a “spot of maintenance” now that it’s light enough to see. What a business it all is
Meanwhile, how has the battle been going? To General Freyberg in his Tactical headquarters the news seems better around six o’clock in the morning. The gaps on his 6th Brigade front are reported clear. The supporting arms and the tanks are said to be moving up. And so they are, but all is not well with the Royal Wilts. Those in the rear of the column have been speculating about the origin of a new addition to the carnival of noise which is going on around then. Something different, this one. Deeper and more earth shaking than the rest. Woomph This is quite unmistakable. A very sinister sound. Big aerial bombs, perhaps? But they really know instinctively what causes those noises, even though they have never heard them before. Mines! But why mines? Something must have gone wrong. The first squadron ought to have been clear of the minefields by now. There are no mines where those noises come from. Or shouldn’t be, according to the air photographs. But Woo-umph There it goes again. And this time there is no mistake. A spurt of flame appears in the distance through a gap in the fog and quickly grows into a flaming mass. Little figures jump out and run for their lives as the sand spurts up around them in the eerie light from the burning tank. For it is a tank. They can see that clearly now....