Alamein: The turning point of World War Two. Iain Gale

fear overtook him. Not the fear of being blown to atoms by one of the shells, which were coming in hard now from the enemy guns, but a fear of being left alone here, cut off from the battalion. Ahead of him another strongpoint loomed up in the moonlight, illuminated by the flash of the constant explosions. Samwell yelled across to Dawson: ‘Sar’nt, secure that position. Take those men prisoner.’

      ‘They’re getting away to the left flank, sir, along the trenches.’

      Samwell had to make a decision. Pursue the Italians left along the trench across a battalion front, or continue on to his objective. There was no choice: ‘Leave them, Sar’nt. We’ll mop up later. Better to get on.’

      They began to advance again and Samwell was beginning to wonder if they would ever find the other platoons when there was a shout from his rear: ‘Hoi there, Lieutenant!’ He turned to see the battalion adjutant, the second-in-command, Jamie Maclachlan. He called again: ‘Samwell! Hugh! What the devil are you doing here? Where’s C Company? And where are the Black Watch?’