It's July, 1942, and under cover of the dark desert sky, a column of 18 Jeeps winds through the treacherous North African landscape. Major David Stirling leads the British special forces on a mission to attack a critical German airfield, 230 miles northwest of Cairo, deep behind enemy lines. But even though Stirling has confidence in his team, he's feeling anxious. "Where’s the airfield? It should be right here". Suddenly, the black of night is replaced by hundreds of bright lights. At first, Stirling thinks they’ve been spotted. But it's only when the roar of an aircraft’s engines pierces the silence that he realizes what's happening. One of the Luftwaffe planes is about to land at their target. On Stirling's left are SAS legends, Captain Paddy Mayne... "Aw, she’s a beautiful sight, sir.” and Leutenant Carol Mather. On his right a unit from the French SAS. The French leader aspirant Andre Zirnheld waits eagerly for Stirling's command. “Time to go to work, boys.” The men take their positions on the guns. On each jeep sits mounted twin Vickers K.303 machine guns, on front and back. Once the men signal they're ready, Stirling starts the attack. "Who dares wins!" The engines roar to life, and the line of jeeps begin to move forward. They race over the desert sand, charging into battle. At around 800 meters from the airfield, the once messy fleet of jeeps forms into a neat line, with Stirling’s vehicle right in the middle, and Zirnheld and the others flanking either side. Then, as one of the Commandos who was there, Stephen Hastings, said, there was: “First, one tentative burst, then the full-on chaos of 68 machine guns blasting away.” The power of the guns shake and rattle the jeeps as they spray the target randomly. The twin Vickers are now firing at 1,000 rounds per minute. That's 34,000 rounds of ammunition tearing across the illuminated runway every 60 seconds, tearing any aircraft they hit to pieces. From the Germans' perspective, it’s just a wall of fire and noise, with red and white tracer bullets zipping towards them, tearing through anything they hit, while incendiary bullets light the planes on fire. It’s a terrifying sight. The German Ju-52 that was coming in to land spots the tracer fire, but they’re already on their final approach and are forced to touch down. Right after they land, the German defenders cut the lights, plunging the airfield back into darkness. The attackers stop firing, but this is just the start of their plan. Stirling pulls out a flare gun and shoots it into the sky. The flare arcs high, lighting up the desert in green. “Forward!” he calls as the jeeps rush onto the airfield. Stirling leads the charge, followed by Zirnheld, with their jeeps rolling onto the runway in a tight formation - two columns, each about 4.5 meters apart. Stirling becomes the tip of a deadly arrowhead. They let loose their guns on the parked German planes. They blow Stuka dive bombers to pieces, and then turn their fire on the Bf 109 fighters. Nothing gets spared. Ju 88s, Bf 110s, Ju 52s - the pride of the Luftwaffe goes up in flames in the desert night. For the German troops it's a total disaster. They’re caught completely off guard and are in shock. Some of the men hide under the parked aircraft. It’s not a good decision. The crew of the recently landed Ju 52 scramble to switch off their cockpit lights and engines, trying to hide among the other planes. The jeeps crawl by at a slow 2.5 miles per hour, barely faster than a brisk walk. They roll all the way down the runway without facing any resistance, leaving chaos behind them, and the Ju 52 and its crew are caught in the storm. The convoy hits the end of the runway and turns towards the taxiway where more parked aircraft are waiting. Stirling signals to stop and quickly checks that all his jeeps are in line. Satisfied, he gives the go-ahead, and they continue their rampage of destruction down the taxiway. But that short break gives the German defenders a moment to regroup. A few Germans dash for a defensive position, grabbing a 20mm Breda anti-air gun and some portable mortars. One German soldier yells: "If we don't stop them, all is lost!" They let loose a mortar. Stirling hears a whistle overhead, and then the first mortar falls in the center of the formation, between the jeeps, almost taking out Zirnheld and the others. Then, the German anti-air guns and Italian Breda cannons begin to fire “wildly” at the British soldiers. Bullets whiz over the Commandos' heads. They duck as low as they can in the jeeps while the enemy barrage sweeps through their formation. A gunner, trooper John Robson, gets hit and slumps over his machine gun. They need to take out that Breda. Stirling shouts to his gunner, Sergeant Johnny Cooper “Get that gun!” As Johnny rounds on the Breda gun, one of its shells crashes through Stirling's jeep missing his knees by inches. Stirling’s jeep grinds to a halt. He shouts: “Why won’t it go!?” “We haven’t got an engine!" And another jeep pulls up for them. It’s Robson's, and Stirling is met with the terrible sight of the young soldier lying on the back of his jeep. What little was left of his head is resting against his gun. "Go!' Stirling's new jeep rejoins the column, which is busy pummeling the enemy position. Mortar rounds continue raining down, shaking the ground and sending shrapnel flying into the air. But the men of the SAS do not let up. Their fire rips through the enemy position. The Breda gunners and mortar crew are overwhelmed, and they fall one by one, with the survivors fleeing for their lives. When the column reaches the end of the taxiway, Stirling honks his horn and orders a complete stop. The jeeps park around him, and he shouts for them to shut off their engines "Switch off!" so he can be heard. The airfield falls into ghostly silence, illuminated by the giant bonfire that used to be Luftwaffe squadrons. "Everyone okay?" "Oui." "Yeah." Stirling is relieved to find that Robson is their only casualty. “How much ammo have you got left?” "Half drum.” "One drum." "Two drums" They’ve still got plenty of ammo left. No point in leaving things half-done. “All right, we’ll have one more go over this side of the dispersal area, then beat it. and watch out for those bloody Breda guns." The engines roar back to life, and they head toward the edge of the airfield. They drive past the wreckage, with shredded and burning planes everywhere. Among the debris, they spot a Bf 109 that’s still intact, and they open fire, turning it into a pile of metal scrap. Stirling raises his flare gun one more time and fires. This time, it's a red flare and it signals their retreat. They’re done… or so they think. But under the glow, legendary officer "Paddy” Mayne spots an untouched Ju 52 transport among the wrecks. Without warning, Paddy jumps out of his jeep, "Paddy!" grabs a bomb and places it on top of the transport’s wing before going back to his men. “Come on, let’s go!” The Ju 52 explodes into flames as the SAS men speed off into the night. The Germans will send planes to look for them, but the men have got a plan. Their jeeps split into four groups. One group is headed by Lieutenant Carol Mather. They drive through the night and then, as dawn breaks, they hide their jeeps in thick bushes and decide to cook breakfast. Over the sizzle of sausages and the rumble of boiling water, they hear something. "Aircraft!" A German dive bomber passes overhead. As it circles by, sweat drips from the men. With the sigh of relief they realize the Germans haven't seen them. So, they carry on cooking their meal, when, suddenly, they spot another, and another. Mather whispers: “It’s like a swarm of angry bees." and then shouts to his men: “Take cover!” All twelve men duck under the bushes and hide. By then, the French group is dangerously out in the open. They manage to find some cover under a small ridge, but it's not enough. And they too hear the roar of engines in the distance. Zirnheld begins to scan the sky, and his eyes lock on the incoming aircraft. "Don't move!" They all freeze as four German Stukas head straight for them. They’ve been spotted. “Take cover!” In a flash, bullets rain down upon their positions, and the soldiers are caught in a deadly storm of lead and sand. While this is happening, Stirling’s team is burying their fallen comrade, John Robson. They don’t see any German planes, so they use the moment of calm to give him a military-style funeral, marking off his grave with a makeshift cross made from cans. But the quiet service is interrupted by the sound of an engine. They freeze and, looking up, lock eyes with another Stuka bomber. Thankfully, it doesn’t spot them and flies on. Back at the French camp, it looks like they might have survived the attack. Despite the noise and the chaos, everyone’s fine. Then, the Germans turn back. The Stukas keep attacking for several minutes until they run out of ammo. As the planes fly away, the desert wind is the only sound remaining. That, and a slow, labored breathing. Second-in-command, Francois Martin, stumbles back up. It’s carnage. Two of their three jeeps are wrecked, and a man is lying on the ground. It’s Zirnheld. He's been hit in the stomach and the shoulder. They lift him to the remaining jeep and speed away. Night falls at last, and Mather’s group pushes on through the desert. His men are thirsty, sunburnt, and desperate. But they’re alive. But it doesn’t take them long to find the rendezvous point. Soon after they’re joined by Paddy Mayne’s unit, who didn’t face much resistance. Stirling’s men are also one their way back, but for them, the terrain is proving just as tough an enemy as the Germans. One jeep loses a tire, and the men have to abandon it and jump into another. From now on, their progress will be painfully slow. To make things worse, they can’t find any of their landmarks. They’re lost, and food, water, and fuel are running low. If they can’t find the rendezvous point soon, they may never leave the desert. They decide to take a chance and keep moving during the day, but find themselves completely lost. Stirling stares at the endless, unrecognizable desert and fights to push back any negative thoughts. According to the navigator’s calculations, they’re heading in the right direction. They just have to keep going and hope he’s right. They move all day under the scorching sun, but still can't find anything they recognize. Before long, they come across a steep escarpment. They're stuck. The navigator hops out of his jeep and heads to the edge of the cliff to find a way down. When he gets there, his eyes light up. At the bottom are British jeeps, parked at the rendezvous point. He runs back, waving his arms in the air. "We made it!" Stirling’s group finally reaches their hideout on July 29, two days after the raid. But it’s not a joyous occasion. As the French speed across the desert, Martin tries to give Zirnheld first aid. But it's no use. With every second that goes by, his skin gets paler, his breathing slower, and his heart races faster. By the time they spot the rendezvous point, all hope is lost. And Zirnheld knows it. He pulls Martin close and whispers his final words: “I am going to leave you. I am at peace. ” before breathing his last. David Stirling would be awarded the Distinguished Service Order and the Order of the British Empire for his outstanding service. And just a few months later, L Detachment would officially become known as the “Special Air Service”. Martin would find a poem by Zirnheld while going through his belongings. Now it's kown as the “Paratrooper’s Prayer”, and it's the official poem of the French airborne forces. "Did you hear about the small tanks that took on German Panzers?" "Click here and watch the story of when Cockroaches Hunted Panzers"