World War II: Starting with the defeat of the Desert Fox

Chapter 12 Water Tanker Truck

August is the hottest time of year in Egypt, with daytime temperatures reaching a terrifying 43 degrees Celsius and ground temperatures even reaching 70 degrees Celsius, enough to cook an egg in the open air.

Thorne's Ford was driving on the highway to Borg Arab, followed by a convoy of about twenty cars carrying oil.

Thorne didn't need to worry too much about the convoy's safety. Gray arranged for an infantry platoon to accompany them, traveling in two cars, one in front and one behind, all fully armed and ready for combat.

Thorne was going along because this was the first delivery, and he needed to go to the military to complete some handover and acceptance procedures.

"It's just a formality," Gray told Thorne on the phone.

"Your oil is clearly better than that of the oil giants, much better."

"In principle, there shouldn't be any problems with the acceptance process."

"but……"

"But what?" Thorne asked, puzzled. He didn't think there could be any problems at this point.

Gray asked with a hint of helplessness, "Have you ever heard of a 'revolving door'?"

Thorne said "Oh" and nodded slightly.

"Oil tycoons aren't as simple as you think, Thorne," Gray said earnestly, like a veteran imparting combat experience to a recruit.

"They would bribe military personnel, especially logistics staff, or directly place their cronies in the military and government departments."

"Then, a cycle of 'company-military-government' was formed, which we call the 'revolving door'."

Thorne chuckled. "So, you're worried that there are oil tycoons in the military who might find an excuse to make things difficult for you?"

"No." Gray smiled and shook his head. "I'm just saying it's possible, but they're not that stupid."

Thorne understood what Gray meant.

This batch of oil was personally ordered by Montgomery, and if it gets stuck at any stage, it will immediately alarm Montgomery.

Then, those oil tycoons' moles planted in the military will get burned.

This is one of the reasons why Thorne sells oil so cheaply: faced with huge long-term interests, the military will give Thorne the green light all the way, and even Montgomery is willing to stand up for Thorne.

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Thorne wasn't driving fast, less than 25 miles per hour, to keep up with the cars behind him loaded with oil drums, which couldn't go fast on this potholed road.

(Note: One yard in the imperial system is one mile, which is 1.6 kilometers.)

The hot wind blowing in his face made Thorne sweat profusely, but the sweat was quickly picked up by the fine sand in the wind and turned into dirt.

Throughout the journey, Thorne kept thinking about one question.

Although Gray didn't say when the Germans would attack, Montgomery was in a hurry to deliver the "poisoned gasoline" in three days, so the timing could actually be estimated.

Get ready on day 3.

It takes one day to transport "toxic gasoline" or "quartz powder" from Bogota to Malta.

They will destroy the Italian transport ship in one more day and dump "toxic gasoline" into the sea.

In the last two days or so, the "toxic gasoline" would drift back to the North African coast and fall into Rommel's hands.

So it would take about 7 days.

Could it be tonight?

But then Thorne thought there was nothing to worry about.

Historically, the El Alamein Line was never breached, and now, with the added benefit of "poisonous gasoline," the German offensive is even less effective.

Besides, he was still on the second line, and his position was next to Montgomery's command post, which was the safest place.

As the setting sun cast its last shadow on the horizon, we were finally approaching our destination.

At this point, Thorne noticed several vehicles parked on the side of the road. One of them appeared to be a water tanker truck that supplied water to the army. It had broken down, and several British army repairmen were working on it. Two military jeeps were parked casually to the side, blocking the way.

(The image above shows a model of a water tanker truck modified by the British Army based on the Bedford truck chassis.)

To ensure the smooth passage of the convoy behind, Thorne sped up, met the car, and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Hey," Thorne asked, "Need any help?"

A mechanic, his face smeared with grease, popped his head out from behind the open hood. He glanced at Thorne and asked, "What can you do to help? Tow it away in your Ford?"

The soldiers burst into laughter.

A person crawled out from under the car. Judging from her figure, it was a woman, or more precisely, a female military officer. However, her body and face were covered in dust and grease, as if she had rolled out of a mud pile.

Just as Thorne was wondering what to say, the female officer greeted him warmly: "Hey you, we meet again!"

Thorne was taken aback: "You are...?"

Upon seeing the female officer's captain rank, Thorne remembered.

"We've met before." Thorne opened the car door and got out. "In the warehouse, you were maintaining tanks!"

"Yes." The female officer took off her gloves, stepped forward and shook hands with Thorne. She glanced at the convoy approaching slowly behind Thorne and immediately understood Thorne's intention.

"Ferguson," she ordered.

"Pull the jeeps over to guide the convoy through."

"Be careful not to let them get stuck in the sand by the roadside, or we won't be able to sleep tonight!"

The soldiers laughed.

Ferguson, a lieutenant with metal dentures, responded by ordering his men to move the car and having two soldiers take out red signal flags and stand by the roadside to guide the convoy through.

"Thank you very much." Thorne gave the female captain a grateful look.

"Of course," the female captain replied, brushing aside the long hair obscuring her eyes with the back of her relatively clean hand. "My name is Thea."

"My name is Thorne."

"Alright, Thorne." Thea pulled Thorne aside, avoiding the dust kicked up by the car, and asked, "Your talk with the general went well a few days ago, didn't it?"

"Okay, you can say that," Thorne said, somewhat hesitantly.

Thea immediately understood: "No, no, you don't need to tell me anything. I know, I just..."

"I understand," Thorne nodded. "A little curiosity."

Thea smiled slightly: "Yes, just a little curiosity, I asked casually."

What she was really curious about wasn't the secret itself, but how this oil salesman could repel Rommel's attack without tanks.

God, she thought this arrogant fellow would surely be kicked out of the command post by the general.

But in fact, Montgomery personally escorted him out, with a satisfied smile on his face.

"You'll find out the result," Thorne said.

Then he stepped on the sand, squatted down with a puzzled look, picked up a small handful of sand to examine it carefully, and even took a little and tasted it in the astonished eyes of Thea.

"What's wrong?" Thea asked.

"It's nothing." Thorne stood up, surveyed the surrounding terrain, and turned his gaze to the water tanker. "It'll be fixed soon, won't it?"

"Not necessarily," Thea replied. "We haven't figured out what the problem is yet, but the soldiers can't wait for water, so I was thinking maybe..."

"No, no way." Thorne interrupted Thea, his tone firm:

"Under no circumstances should the water be transferred, nor should soldiers be allowed to collect it."

"Make sure the water tanker is repaired and leaves here intact."

"I mean, there can't be any leaks before the water tanker leaves here, understand?"