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Inside the tank, the noise of the 75-hp Ricardo engine was so deafening that it was practically impossible even to hear the shell bursts unless they were very near indeed, almost hitting the tank. On these occasions the danger communicated itself more by the wobbling of the walls of the tank, which suddenly seemed to lose all their rigidity and become flexible, than the actual noise of the explosion; in the din it was impossible to communicate except by shrieking the orders.
Hauser beckoned his sergeant towards him. ‘Sergeant’, he yelled, ‘tell those bloody gunners to keep their fingers off the triggers – I can't have these damned idiots firing down on our own men. Remember, we don't get through the first wave of infantry until the green line, and that's not due for another half-hour.‘
He choked and spluttered in the fog which swirled through the slightly open front flaps, now mingled with the smell of bursting cordite. Shrieking into the ear of his driver, he asked him if he could see the oil pressure gauges. ‘I think that knock is worse than ever – it won't be long before the big end goes.‘
Throughout the advance to the battle positions, Hauser's tank had been giving trouble, and it was feared that there was something wrong with the timing. The defect had apparently been remedied, and yet the knock persisted. They thought it might be due to excessive carbonization, but at the same time it was a disquieting symptom.
‘I hope to God the damned thing doesn't choose this moment to conk out’, said Hauser to his driver. 'Keep your eye on the oil pressure and let me know if anything odd happens. I'm not going to stay in this damned rat trap if it's going to get hit. The moment this thing
stops, out we all get with our machine-guns. He beckoned to Sergeant Wilkins again to come forward. ‘Sergeant, see to it that all the men are fully armed if I tell them to get out of the tank. We'll go forward as infantry. You can stay behind here with somebody, and if you feel like it you