April 1941

We were about half way to Tobruk by now, and the day was getting toward evening. I knew that I did not have enough fuel to drive all the way to Tobruk, but thought that I would find some in Derna, where there was a large fuel supply dump. The Fiat ran on diesel oil, whereas every other vehicle we had used petrol, so there was no chance of getting any off them.

By the time we got to the point where the surfaced road turned left to drop down the escarpment into Derna, it was already dusk. The Military Police had set up a roadblock and told me that all traffic was being diverted along a track that stayed up on the escarpment and ran to a place called Martuba from where another track ran on to Tobruk. They said Derna had been evacuated and no one was permitted to go down that road. They knew no more than that, or if they did, they weren’t saying, but the news that Derna had been abandoned shook me a bit.

Going across to Martuba didn’t suit me at all, I was certain there would be no diesel available anywhere along that route. I told them this, and said my only chance was to go down to Derna and look for some diesel, even if meant draining the tanks of any diesel vehicles that might be there. In the end they let me through, and in almost total darkness we made the long, careful descent of the escarpment.

When we got to Derna town an hour or so later, the first place I recognised was the fuel dump. This was easy because the whole place was on fire. I drove into the large open space in the depot, surrounded by long low sheds, burning merrily.

There was no one about, so we left the truck engine running, and wandered about hopefully, looking for diesel in the light of the flames. We found, instead, a forty-gallon barrel, part full of paraffin, or Kerosene, as it said on the barrel. I figured that the fifteen gallons or so of paraffin, when mixed with the ten gallons of diesel still in the Fiat truck would suffice to get us to Tobruk, and that the engine wouldn’t mind a change of diet.

With some difficulty we managed to pour most of the paraffin into the truck tank, and set off again through the dark deserted main street of Derna. The road ran parallel with the sea for a while and then turned up hill toward the escarpment, which loomed above. We hadn’t gone far before we ran up behind a crowd of stationary vehicles. The trouble turned out to be a tank, which had shed a track on a hairpin bend up ahead.

We waited there, with the noise of the Fiat engine echoing from the cliff wall which rose sheer on our left, worrying about the fuel being used, for what seemed an age, but was probably not much more than an hour. Then, with a resounding clatter the tank was toppled off the road to fall, in the total darkness below. I never saw any of the men who had performed this feat of strength, as I was more concerned to stay with the Fiat in case some well-meaning soul stopped the engine, as we would certainly never have started it again.

We all ground our way up the hill, round one tight bend after another. As no one showed any lights, it was a matter of sticking closely to the tail of the chap in front and hoping for the best. My night sight had improved with practice, and I don’t remember any particular difficulty, although the night was very dark. Finally at about one o’clock in the morning, we clambered up to the top, where the most beautiful full moon was just rising, away across to the west.

From now on, I knew it ought to be all plain sailing, mostly down hill all the way, and with this brilliant moon we could get along just as well as in daylight. Those in front wasted no time either and we careered down a long straight road in fine style. The main problem now was to stay awake, having been up and fully occupied since dawn of the day before. By this time of course we had realised that the Afrika Korps might get to Tobruk before we did, and the thought of this was enough to banish sleep.

At some time after this I was amazed when a long convoy of supply trucks, Mack ten-tonners, came up the road. There must have been fifty of them, and I wondered where they were heading for. It was a comfort in a way, to know that there were enough troops behind us to be worth sending supplies like that up, or was it all a big mistake, were they going to Derna? I never found out.

The trucks in front were gradually outstripping me, until only one open sided lorry remained. One of the oncoming Macks hit the front corner of the body of this, and the whole side peeled off and was dragging behind him, still attached to the tailgate. He kept going, the dragging bodywork jumping madly up and down. Then the tailgate parted company with the body on that side and he was dragging about thirty feet of slatted side and tail behind him. Finally that too parted company and fell to the side of the road. This loss of drag gave him an extra turn of speed, which took him on out of sight until once more we had the road to ourselves.

The two sappers, who were riding with me, were jammed into the passenger seat and were completely enveloped in a blanket and I supposed sound asleep. Gradually the moonlight changed to the light of dawn and I could see more or less where we were. We were coming down off the escarpment and the road began winding, and rising and falling in the foothills. I thought we had about another sixty miles to run, about two or three hours at our rate of progress. There was absolutely no other traffic, and no sign of any activity anywhere around. I didn’t know whether this was good or bad. Presently we came down to a plain and the road stretched ahead as straight as an arrow for several miles.

Then I saw, straight ahead, an aircraft flying low, right up the middle of the road towards me. I had always understood that our own planes had orders to fly to one side of any road when in friendly territory. This was a single engine fighter and he was near enough now for me to be able to see the wings as well as the front of the fuselage. I don’t think it is possible to judge what type a plane is from that frontal view, so in my mind it was best to assume it wasn’t one of ours. I pulled the hand brake on as hard as I could, bawled “Get Out” to the sleeping sappers, and as soon as the speed dropped enough, jumped out and ran like a hare straight out in to the desert. The aircraft flashed overhead with a roar, but no gunfire, and as I turned to look at his retreating tail I saw that it was a Hurricane.

Cursing, I walked back and climbed into the truck, where the two sappers had only just succeeded in getting out of their blanket. ‘What’s up?” one said. Feeling a proper Charlie (as we would say today, only the phrase hadn’t been coined then) I snarled some savage reply, bashed the truck in gear and drove on.

We got to the Military Police Post outside Tobruk in mid-morning, and they told me how to find the area where our unit would be re-forming. When we got there, I couldn’t see any one of any rank, so I told the two sappers to unload the stores, and wake me up when they’d finished. I then lay down by the side of the truck and went out like a light. When they woke me, I fished out some food, had a drink and said to the sappers, “Right, now we’ll go and get the rest of the stuff”. They flatly refused, saying that they had been told to ride with me to Tobruk, and no one has said anything about going back again. I had had about enough of them anyway so I told them what I thought of them, drove to the fuel point and filled up, and set off back.

At the Military Police point I was stopped and the redcap said “Hello, Sonny Boy, where do you think you’re going”. I told him I had orders to go to Giovanni Berta to pick up stores. He said “Shouldn’t bother if I was you, Jerries are there already”. I was not averse to taking his advice so I turned the truck round and drove back to town.

Next morning the Germans were knocking on the door and the siege of Tobruk had begun.

Next Chapter: Besieged