The British Crusader tank, Dust Devil, rolled through the hot, Tunisian desert. It was on it's way to a German airfield, where it would meet up with more tanks, and infantry, to try and capture the field. A squad of British infantry was sitting on the tank, chatting among themselves as the tank sent sand in to the air. Among them were Sergeant Austin Benson, and Corporal Harry Clarkin. "Alright, settle down lads. No more talk. Keep your eyes open." Austin yelled, trying to make his voice clear over the rumbling of the tank. Harry Clarkin looked up in to the sky, and saw the white trail of an artillery shell. "Bloody Hell! Artillery strike!" he screamed. The squad piled off of the tank, and over to a nearby hill. The artillery shell slammed in to Dust Devil, destroying it, and sending debris in to the sand.
"Someone get on top of that hill, and see where the artillery is coming from. If you can't look for some cover!" Austin commanded. One of the soldiers ran up the hill, and dropped in to prone position. "Sergeant, I don't see any artillery emplacements, but I do see a nearby Jerry bunker. I think we can use that for cover." he yelled down to them, looking through his binoculars. There was a gunshot, and the scout fell back, and rolled down the hill. "SNIPER!" Austin yelled, leaning back against the sand hill, grasping his Lee-Enfield rifle. "On three lads, we're raiding that bunker. THREE!" Austin yelled. The squad ran up the hill, hoping not to get shot.
Harry ran as fast as he could, the sound of sniper bullets flying past him. One of the soldiers next to him hit the sand, and began losing blood. "Keep going!" Sergeant Benson yelled. They lost two more soldiers before they reached the bunker. "Clarkin! Get a pineapple in there!" Austin yelled to him. Harry nodded, and grabbed at one of his grenades with a shaking hand. He pulled the pin out, and lopped it through one of the bunker's windows. "Take that you Jerry bastards!" he called in to the window. They could hear German's screaming inside. "Handgranate! Handgranate! Nehmen Sie Deckung!" There screaming was silenced by the grenade's explosion. "Alright men, let's get in there!" They ran to the enterance of the bunker, where Benson ordered one of the soldiers to kick open the door.
As soon as the soldier kicked the door open, he was met with a barrage of bullets. His blood sprayed on to the wall behind him. Finally, his limp body slumped against it. He was quite dead. "MG-42! Someone get another pineapple in there!" Harry Clarkin yelled. Sergeant Benson pulled out one of his own grenades, and threw it through the open door. A German soldier ran out at the sound of a grenade landing inside, and grabbed Benson's rifle, trying to pull it from his grip. "Get off my you bloody wanker!" he grumbled, fighting for the rifle. He managed to swing it sideways, smashing the butt of the rifle in to the German's jaw. Just then, his grenade went off. Austin kicked the German to the ground, and pulled out his Webley revolver. "See you in Hell." He pulled the trigger.