“TRAITOR’S” DEATH

Wairarapa Times-Age, 16 March 1943, Page 4

“TRAITOR’S” DEATH

INCIDENT IN DESERT. ENCOUNTER WITH NAZI PLANES. A heap of stones and rock in the desert, surmounted by a rough wooden cross, bearing the inscription “Aspirant Zirnheld, died on the field of honour. July 27, 1942," mark the spot where lies what Vichy calls a “traitor,” a young officer who fell fighting for the honour and freedom of France. Brigadier-General Martial Valin. National Commissioner for Air in the French National Committee, told his story over the air from the 8.8. C. to his countrymen in France. He was reading from a report direct from the field of action: “Aspirant Zirnheld and myself," said the writer of the report, “planned to attack two German aeroplanes on the ground by machine-gun, but they took off too soon and passed close over us, towards the south. About 7.30, I saw planes to the north, four stukas systematically nosing among the escarpments. visiting every dip and every nook at low altitude. From mound to mound, they arrived at the slope where we were, discovering our cars in spite of camouflage. They came at us with machine-guns. Each plane shot at us three times, making twelve attacks. At the second or third, Zirnheld called to me to say he ahd been hit in the arm, but it was nothing he said. I told him not to move and to stay under the camouflage. About the eighth or ninth salvo he called to me again, saying he had been hit -in the body. “I rushed to his side and saw that he was no longer sufficiently protected by rocks, so I rapidly piled some in front of him. When the planes flew off, I looked to our two cars. One tire out of two had been hit. the ma-chine-guns, hoods and seats were holed with bullets, but the motors were working. Zirnheld, severely wounded, was aware of his condition, and begged us to leave him there and go on with the cars and the other men, of whom none had been hit. We took him with us, but five or six miles farther he could no longer stand the shaking of the car. I stopped in a wadi. I passed the next day with planes flying over continually but failing to discover us under cur camouflage. “Aspirant Zirnheld was suffering acutely. At different times I gave him four morphine tablets, without relieving him. He showed the greatest courage, asking us to excuse him when intense pain tore a cry from him. About midday he seemed a little better, so I went to the other men. When I returned a few moments later death had done its work. “We passed the rest of the clay in the hollow beneath our camouflage. We were sad, and as night crept down we carried Zirnheld to the edge of the wadi to a hollow, where we covered him with stones and rocks, for we had no spades or picks.”