(See Cover)
An empty Chianti bottle lay in the desert where an Italian had dropped it in his retreat. Near by, the moonlight made a complicated and shadowy apparition out of a wrecked Mark III tank, glinted on a German chocolate tin and a bloodied German helmet.
East of this no man's land, headed in the general direction of the Chianti bottle, a squad of British sappers dragged themselves across the sand, pulling the string of German land mines. Behind them the 51st Highlanders squatted in slit trenches, awaiting the signal to advance...
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