Puir Bluidy Swaddies are Weary (Tulloch at War Book 4)

Grit and Betrayal in the Shadow of War

Captain Douglas Tulloch returns in Poor Bluidy Swaddies Are Weary, the fourth novel in Malcolm Archibald’s acclaimed Tulloch at War series. From the aftermath of El Alamein to the rugged hills of Sicily, Tulloch and the Lothian Rifles are thrust into the heart of World War II’s most intense confrontations—only this time, the battlefield is as much about loyalty as it is about bullets.

As Tulloch confronts elite German paratroopers and navigates alliances with questionable allies, he uncovers a web of espionage that tests his judgment and loyalty. While the war demands his focus, a quiet question lingers—will Amanda, the intelligent and elusive operative, ever say yes to his proposal?

Archibald delivers a powerful, tightly woven narrative where survival is uncertain, trust is fragile, and the true cost of war cuts far deeper than the front line.

Get your copy of Poor Bluidy Swaddies Are Weary today and continue the unforgettable journey of Douglas Tulloch.

Excerpt from the book

EGYPT AND LIBYA, NOVEMBER 1942

Push on

The rain hammered down, turning the single, shell-cratered, potholed road into a quagmire of slithering mud, hiding the numerous mines the retreating Axis forces had planted and slowing the Allied advance.

“Bloody rain!” Private Hogg looked out from under the dripping rim of his helmet. “If I wanted to get soaked, I’d have stayed in bloody Edinburgh! Our old teacher me Africa was dry and sunny.”

“Aye,” Private Adamson replied with a sour grin. “Your teacher you a pack of lies, Hoggie.”

“Bugger this for a game of soldiers,” Hogg said. He sat miserably, watching the long line of trucks grind and slide past the Lothian Rifles. Montgomery’s 8th Army had broken Rommel at El Alamein and begun the relentless advance to the west. Their targets were Tobruk, Benghazi, Tripoli, and eventually Tunis, to boot the Axis armies, German and Italian, right out of Africa.

Push on!

The words became a mantra as the Allies advanced across the Western Desert. British, Australian, New Zealand, Free French, Greek and South African units, battered by battle but elated by victory, pushed along the coastal plain in pursuit of the retreating enemy.

Push on!

“This time, there is no coming back!” Montgomery promised, and the men of the 8th Army took Monty at his word. They had faith in Monty and confidence in their ability to face and defeat Erwin Rommel’s Axis army.

As the 8th Army slogged along the North African coast, Captain Douglas Tulloch of the Lothian Rifles reorganised his battered D Company, grieved at the casualties from Operation Supercharge and urged them on. They passed the smouldering, smoke-blackened tanks from both sides, tried to ignore the twisted dead and looked westward, ever westward.

The dust covered them in choking clouds, entering eyes, noses and mouths and billowing around them as the truck engines roared, coughed and spluttered, with mechanics and fitters working every hour God sent to keep the columns rolling.

Push on!

Don’t stop!

Don’t give the enemy time to consolidate.

The Germans are masters of defence; don’t give them time to prepare.

What Montgomery proposed, a higher power disposed, and days of rain followed the victory of El Alamein, slowing the army, bogging down the trucks and allowing the Axis forces time to flee.

Private Hogg was not alone in cursing the torrents that descended on the 8th Army.

If you can’t drive, then march. Dismount and chase the enemy out of Africa.

The men left the lorries and straining trucks and footslogged west. After the rains came the chase, with exhausted men dragging themselves on, wounded limping to keep up, and NCOs and officers haranguing, encouraging and leading by example. The New Zealanders and the 7th Armoured were in the van, skirmishing, harassing, and keeping on the enemy’s tail.

Push on!

The coast road was abominable, potholed, shell-cratered, sandy and heavily mined by the Germans, who destroyed every bridge and placed every possible obstacle in the path of the Allies.

Tulloch wiped the sandy sweat from his face and peered ahead. “How far have we come?”

“God knows, sir,” Lieutenant Bill McGill replied. “We’ve chased the enemy a hundred miles, maybe two hundred miles since Alamein.”

“They’re a wily lot,” Tulloch said. “The New Zealanders have tried a couple of flanking left hooks, but the Germans run too fast. That blasted rain helped them as well.”