The Sand Panthers Read Online Free Page A

the other man’s sudden bewilderment. ‘Because you are coming with us, as our guide and mentor.’
    ‘Oh, my goodness!’ Professor Dr Hans Reichert slumped weakly in his chair. ‘Oh my goodness me!’
    Von Dodenburg rose to his feet and reached for his cap. ‘All right then, Prof,’ he snapped, ‘let’s get our fingers out. We’ve got a lot to do today.’ Briskly he strode out into the desert’s sun burning white brilliance. Wotan had exactly forty-eight hours left before it moved out.
    Note
    1.   Killed-in-Action.

FIVE
    The next forty-eight hours flew by. There were a hundred and one problems for von Dodenburg to solve. In the oven-hot air, the half-naked Wotan men sweated over the vehicles, preparing them for the long trek into the unknown desert. The blond Major, his face already burnt a brick-red by the sun, was here, there and everywhere, knowing that to relax for an instant would be fatal.
    He strode from crew to crew, checking them and their vehicles and coming to loathe the burning-red ball of the sun, which beat down upon them so relentlessly. He thought longingly of the cool French coast which they had just left for these burnished sands and stifling opaque haze, which shimmered blindingly.
    On the first day, von Dodenburg, Schulze, and Captain Reichert concentrated on checking that the tanks and halftracks were correctly fuelled up and armed. Forcing himself to walk slowly, von Dodenburg inspected the outside of each vehicle in that stifling heat, and then clambered inside the red-hot metal boxes to check the mass of dials, the speedometer, the revolution counter, the pressure gauges, the cannon-firing mechanism.
    On the morning of the second day he took his own command vehicle for a hard ride into the desert, accompanied by Schulze and the ‘Prof’, with Matz at the wheel. Within two hours, each man was reduced to the state of a wet rag. Time and time again the metal pins joining the track-plates broke on the hard, stony ground of the desert, leaving them with the back breaking task of hammering in another.
    At midday von Dodenburg began to call on his fellow COs of the armoured regiments all around, whose Mark IIIs and Mark IVs were equipped with specially hardened link-pins, designed specifically for the desert. But none of them had pins to spare for Assault Regiment Wotan. Fuming with rage, von Dodenburg cried to Reichert, ‘You would think we were the bloody enemy – and not the Tommies, goddamit!’
    Reichert allowed himself a faint smirk, ‘But, if I may be forgiven for saying so my dear Major, you are.’
    Von Dodenburg spun round on him. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean, eh?’
    The look of naked fury in his eyes wiped the smirk off the Professor’s face. ‘I meant that the gentlemen of the Afrikakorps think you of the SS are lowering the tone of the war in the desert. As they see it, the sooner the SS vanishes into the desert – for good – the better everything will be.’
    Von Dodenburg slumped weakly against the burning canvas of the HQ tent. ‘Oh, my back,’ he croaked. ‘What a bloody war!’ Wearily he wiped the sweat off his dripping brow, only to feel the second wave of perspiration swamp his forehead the very next moment. ‘What in hell’s name am I going to do? By Christ, I’ll go right to the Field-Marshal about this!’
    ‘With respect, Major, the gentlemen of the Staff would probably never let you get within sniffing distance of His Excellency.’
    Von Dodenburg slammed his clenched fist on the table violently. ‘I must have those pins!’ he cried.
    ‘Sir.’ It was Schulze, who had been standing at the flap of the tent all the time.
    ‘Yes, what is it?’
    ‘Sir, I think me and Matzi might be able to get those pins for you,’ he ventured with unusual hesitancy.
    ‘But how?’ the Major cried. ‘Come on, don’t stand around like a spare prick at a wedding. Out with it!’
    ‘Well, sir, perhaps you remember yesterday morning, me and Matzi went