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Sam Troy, leader of the Rat Patrol, watched the motorpool cautiously from his vantage point behind a warehouse. Jack Moffitt, in a German officer's uniform, was commandeering a car. The motorpool was busy, and it looked as if Moffitt was going unchallenged. A mechanic pointed out an available car, Moffitt climbed into the back, and Tully Pettigrew, also in German uniform, got behind the wheel. They pulled away, moving out into the desert. Troy breathed easier as he saw no one was following them: part one of their plan was complete.
Troy tapped Mark Hitchcock on the arm; the young American had been keeping a lookout while Troy watched Moffitt. Now they moved quietly among the tents and buildings of the bustling supply depot. Their mission was to steal the requisition records for the last few months, to give Allied HQ an idea of what the Jerries were up to. Observation had shown that the records themselves were not heavily guarded, but the encampment as a whole was well-manned. The trick, then, was to un-man it, at least temporarily.
Troy and Hitch paused behind the communications building. "Right on time," Troy whispered, glancing at his watch as the radio crackled. He heard Moffitt's voice speaking in German, and although he could not understand the words, he knew what the message was. Moffitt's voice sounded panicked; there was the sound of gunfire and indeterminate shouting in the background. The radio operator ran yelling out of the tent. Half the men in camp piled into vehicles and raced out in the direction Moffitt's car had gone. "Now's our chance!" Troy said to Hitch, and they headed for the building in which the supply records were kept.
The depot was now seriously undermanned, and Troy and Hitch were able to complete their mission without difficulty. Moffitt and Tully, Troy knew, would have set up a capable ambush; their would-be rescuers wouldn't be returning to camp. Carrying the heavy ledgers, Troy and Hitch skulked back unnoticed to where they had hidden their jeep.
"That way," Troy said, pointing to a side road that skirted the camp and then joined up with the road Moffitt had taken.
"Sarge, this isn't the way to the rendezvous," complained Hitch.
Troy shrugged. "Why should they get all the fun? I want to see how the battle went." He forced himself to speak lightly, not wanting to admit even to himself that he was nervous. He knew perfectly well that Tully and Moffitt could take care of things, but his brain kept conjuring up hypothetical disasters. He also kept telling himself that all his men were equally valuable to him, but since he and Moffitt had become lovers, he kept catching himself worrying more.
"Suit yourself," said Hitch, spinning the wheel and taking off.
The site Troy and Moffitt had chosen for the ambush was around a sharp bend in the road, sheltered from immediate view by the rocky terrain. As they drew nearer, Troy could see that nothing had gone wrong. Tully and Moffitt were climbing into their jeep, preparing to leave. They were the only men standing; the Germans lay dead in the wreckage of their smoking vehicles. As Hitch and Troy drew nearer, Tully jumped down from the jeep to greet them. "Everything okay, Sarge?" he asked.
"No problem," Troy said as Moffitt joined them. "I just wanted to check in and see how things were going."
Moffitt's face clouded and he turned away. "Everything's fine, Troy," he said distantly.
"How 'bout your end?" Tully asked.
"Piece of cake," said Hitch, gesturing to the ledgers stowed safely under the seat.
"Let's roll," said Troy. He was relieved that Moffitt and Tully's end of the plan had gone so well, though he wondered at Moffitt's attitude. He set that concern aside, and had nearly forgotten it by the time they reached the Allied base.
After a short debriefing, they were assigned rooms in a small barracks building at one end of the base. For the moment, they had the place to themselves. Troy noticed that Moffitt was unusually silent as they stowed their gear.
They had come out of their room into the short hallway when Moffitt seized Troy by the shoulders and threw him roughly against the wall. "How DARE you?" he hissed.
The hands on Troy's shoulders gripped like iron, and the anger in Moffitt's voice was almost palpable. Troy fought to remain calm. "How dare I what?" he asked sharply.
Behind him, Troy saw Hitch and Tully coming to the open door of their room and staring, open-mouthed. "Depart from the plan," Moffitt snarled. "Come checking up on us when we had our part running smoothly. Don't you have confidence in your own men?"
Troy's eyes blazed back at him. "Did I bruise your ego, Doctor?" he shot back. With a deft movement, he got out of Moffitt's grip. Instead of stepping back, however, he leaned in, getting into Moffitt's face. "Did I step on your turf? You are under my command, Mister, and I will interfere as I see fit!"
Moffitt almost laughed. "You think this is about power, Troy? You think this is about command?" He shook his head. "You're so blinded by your own machismo that you think everyone else feels the same way."
"Then what?" Troy ground out, choosing to let the insult go by.
"You imbecile!" cried Moffitt in frustration. He paused, as if looking for the right words. "This is about risking your life unnecessarily. You didn't have to be there, and if something had gone wrong, you could have gotten killed. You're not invincible, Troy!"
So that's what this is all about, Troy realized abruptly. Fury rose in his own guts; unconsciously, he clenched his fists. "It's my life to risk, goddamnit," he said. "I don't need you to nursemaid me, Sergeant." He looked around Moffitt, glaring at the two privates. "Or anyone else."
"Suit yourself," Moffitt snapped, and turned on his heel. He stopped, and with icy formality, snapped, "Permission to leave, sir?"
"Dismissed," said Troy gruffly, and Moffitt strode out.
Hitch and Tully watched in silence as Troy made a point of leaving in the other direction. Hitch raised his eyebrows at Tully in inquiry. Tully shrugged his shoulders. Neither one said anything for a few minutes.
Finally, Tully spoke. "You know why they're fightin'," he said flatly.
Hitch folded his arms across his chest. "No, I don't. Enlighten me."
"I seen it before," said Tully, switching his matchstick from one side of his mouth to the other. "They care too much."
"About what?" Hitch asked, irritated by Tully's reticence. He remembered Moffitt's angry words. "About the mission?"
"Nope. 'Bout each other." After an uncomfortable silence, Tully went on. "People get attached. You know."
It took a moment for the penny to drop. "You think they're screwing?" Hitch burst out, astonished. "Is that what you think?"
"I don't know," said Tully seriously.
Hitch was wound up now. "Sarge, and Doc--a couple of pansies? I don't believe it!"
"They don't have to be pansies, to be doing that. Sometimes guys get lonely. I seen it happen, you seen it happen."
"Yeah, but not like this! They've been fighting like cats and dogs ever since we got back."
"Uh-huh," Tully admitted. "They have. And the whole time they were arguin'.... they couldn't keep their hands off each other."
Hitch nodded, Tully's matter-of-fact words helping to calm him down. Still, he was incredulous. "Do you think they're screwing?" he repeated, asking himself as much as Tully. The tension between the two sergeants had been obviously physical, almost visible. Could it be sexual?
"Like I said, I don't know," said Tully, beginning to pace. "But I do think they're gettin' attached."
Hitch dropped into a chair sideways, flopping his arm over the back. He looked up at Tully. "It's tearing them apart," he said.
"Mm-hm," said Tully. He shrugged. "They gotta work it out themselves."
Moffitt was alone in the barracks, packing, when Troy came back. Troy sat and watched him for a moment; Moffitt concentrated on his task and did not look up at Troy. After a few minutes, Troy said, "Look, Moffitt, about what happened earlier...."
Moffitt looked up sharply, but to Troy's surprise, without anger. He set down the duffel bag he'd been packing and spoke with quiet formality. "I'm leaving, Troy. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that in front of Hitchcock and Pettigrew. I should not undermine your position as a commanding officer by questioning your authority like that."
"Look, if insubordination was a problem Hitch would've been out on his ass a long time ago. I'm the one who was wrong. You were absolutely right; I shouldn't have barged in."
Moffitt chuckled sadly. "Troy, we can't even make up without arguing--first we fought about who was right and now we're quarreling over who was wrong." He looked away for a moment. "I wasn't angry because you barged in. I was angry because I thought you did it because of... the way we are." He smiled ruefully. "Now that I've had a chance to calm down, I realize that you've always been this kind of idiot, and that you've always had--rightly or wrongly, I can't say--this kind of protectiveness toward your men. Toward all your men. Not just the one you're sleeping with."
Troy was silent for a long moment. "I'd like to say you're right," he said. "That was the first thing I wanted to shout at you--that my interfering had nothing to do with us. But I don't know that. I can't be sure."
"You have to be sure, Troy," said Moffitt. "If your feelings for me interfere with your ability to command...." He turned back to the duffel bag. "This isn't going to work." He picked up some more clothes to throw into it, but stopped, holding it midair, as if he were having trouble forcing himself to keep on. "I need to go."
Seeing Moffitt's hesitation; Troy came over and caught Moffitt's arm. "Jack," he said quietly. Moffitt turned his head and met Troy's eyes. They froze like that. Troy continued. "I need you to stay."
Troy felt Moffitt trembling and tightened his grip. He watched Moffitt's eyes and saw longing, emptiness, and a battle for self-control.
Abruptly Moffitt dropped the handful of socks, and wrapped his free arm around Troy's neck, pulling him closer. "You want me to stay?" he asked softly. Troy nodded, not trusting his voice. Something else flared in Moffitt's eyes, something Troy seldom saw; something savage, that craved both freedom and taming.
"Make me," Moffitt whispered.
Troy's eyes widened. The next thing he knew he was flat on his back and Moffitt had him in a wrestler's hold.
Moffitt was taller, with longer legs and a longer reach. That might be an advantage in some forms of combat--but Troy had never found it so in wrestling. He'd been good at it in high school, often defeating larger opponents with his compact body and wiry strength.
This went through Troy's mind very quickly; somewhere between a comparison of his and Moffitt's respective heights and weights and a flashback to high school, he had escaped the hold and was grappling for position.
Wrestling was an especially strenous activity, and both men were soon sweating freely. But both were also in combat-toughened condition; exhaustion would not be a factor for some time yet. Troy found the contest exhilarating: the struggle excited his competitive nature, and the element of continuous physical contact was gratifying at a sensual, animal level. The flow of movement was sinuous, action and reaction occurring so closely that the two combatants seemed to move as one.
Finally Troy pinned Moffitt successfully. Moffitt made a few last attempts, but realizing that Troy had him, he lay still. Troy slowly, deliberately pulled Moffitt's arms up over his head, held them there, and lowered himself till his face was inches above Moffitt's. "I need you to stay," he repeated, his voice was raspy with need, vulnerable despite his position of victory.
Moffitt's voice was none too steady in response. "Then you'll have to let me go."
"I don't understand," said Troy, keeping his grip tight.
"Business as usual. Standard operating procedure. Let me die, if you have to. Shoot me yourself, if they order you." His face, which had been dark and serious, suddenly lightened with a grin. "You idiot."
"What?" Troy asked, impatient for resolution.
"One more thing." They hadn't changed position, but Moffitt moved subtly and Troy felt movement between his thighs and warmth spreading up his nerves "What was it? Dying, shooting, I know I forgot something...." Troy gave him a warning shake, and Moffitt stopped rummaging in his memory and smiled up at him. "Kiss me, while you've got me."
Troy closed the inches between them with an impetuous kiss, to which Moffitt responded with vigor and passion.
Neither of them noticed footsteps going by a little while later, nor noticed that the footsteps paused briefly, as if two people outside were listening to the sounds within. And they didn't hear Tully's voice as the two sets of footsteps receded. "That's ten dollars you owe me, Hitch."
If they had really been listening, which they weren't, they might even have caught Hitch's response. "I don't know what's more amazing, Tully; those two in bed together, or you being right for once."
Troy watched cautiously as the hour ticked past and Moffitt did not reappear. He had gone into a German installation at four in the afternoon to obtain secret documents needed by the Allies. He was in German uniform, which made it easier for him to move freely, but which also meant that he could be shot as a spy if detected and caught.
The installation was small, and there was a chance that he would be noticed simply because he was unfamiliar and there were few unfamiliar faces in the area. He and Troy had agreed that if he did not leave the installation by five p.m., he had most likely been caught, and Troy would then launch a rescue mission.
It was a quarter to five. "He should have been out by now, Sarge," said Hitch through his teeth.
"We gotta get him out," said Tully.
"We agreed to wait until five," said Troy stonily. "We've got to give him that time."
"He might have got caught, Sarge!" protested Hitch. "They could be interrogating him right now. He might not make it to five o'clock!"
Troy held his patience with some effort. "There are a hundred innocuous reasons he might have been delayed. We're not going to jeopardize the mission by jumping the gun." Despite the certainty in his voice, his expression was strained, his eyes troubled. Hitch and Tully exchanged a glance behind Troy's back.
Five o'clock. No one had come out of the installation. Troy looked at the two privates. "It's time," he said. "We go in and get him."
No matter what the situation, Hitch found a way to complain. "I thought this was supposed to stay a secret mission, Sarge."
"If they caught Moffitt, it isn't secret any more," Troy said grimly. "Even if he doesn't talk, they'll guess what he was after."
It was no longer a time for stealth or subtlety. They took up positions some distance away and shot down all the outside guards, then burst in, machine guns at the ready. Several Germans died in the first onrush; a few remaining men surrendered.
They found Moffitt in a back room, tied to a chair, in the midst of an interrogation. The man facing Moffitt, a colonel, jumped to his feet and drew his gun; Hitch shot him. A guard who had had his hand on Moffitt's shoulder, keeping him in place, put his hands in the air to surrender. Troy pointed to the door, and the man went out to where Tully was rounding up the survivors.
"Go check the other rooms," said Troy to Hitch, who was staring at Moffitt. "Make sure everyone's accounted for."
"OK, Sarge," said Hitch, and went out. Troy went to Moffitt's side.
"Oh, God," he whispered. The British sergeant was bruised and battered, his ersatz uniform torn and bloodstained. His wrists were bound together behind the back of the chair. Troy began untying them.
Moffitt opened his eyes a bit. "Troy," he said softly, and began coughing.
"Shhh," Troy said. He got Moffitt's wrists untied and gently pulled his arms around to the front, wincing in sympathy as Moffitt stifled a cry of pain. "I'm sorry.... I should have gotten you out before this happened."
"No," Moffitt rasped. "I heard them..... send a message." He coughed again. "At four-fifty. A standard check-in.... They reported me as an isolated incident, under control, and gave an all-clear." He grasped Troy's hand and looked into his eyes. "If you'd come sooner.... they wouldn't have sent the message, and this place would be swarming with reinforcements."
Troy nodded reluctantly. "Can you stand?" he asked. "We need to get out of here." Moffitt struggled valiantly to get to his feet with Troy's help, but once up, he couldn't support his weight. Hitch came in just as Troy eased Moffitt back into the chair.
"They're all taken care of, Sarge," he said cheerfully. "Tully's got the survivors under control, and we've checked every room. Got the documents, too."
"We'll just have to leave the survivors here," said Troy. "We don't have facilities for prisoners. Disable their radio and take their weapons, then come back and give me a hand with Moffitt." Hitch nodded and left.
Hitch returned in short order; he and Troy together carried Moffitt out to where Tully had the jeeps waiting. They bundled him carefully into the back of Tully's jeep and began the long trek back to the Allied lines.
Hitch came into the field hospital to find Troy with Moffitt. Moffitt looked a good deal better than he had two days ago. He and Troy were talking quietly, Troy's hand resting lightly on Mofffitt's arm. "Hey," said Hitch.
Troy looked up at him. "Hey."
"Listen, Sarge, um, Tully and I...." Hitch floundered and stopped, then started over again. "I mean, you and Mofiftt, I mean.... It was really hard for you not to go in after him as soon as you knew something was wrong."
Troy looked away. "Do you have a point, Private?" he asked. He started to withdraw his hand from Moffit's arm, but Hitch stopped him, actually reaching out with his own hand to put Troy's back.
Moffitt eyed the young soldier. "Troy," he said quietly, "I think Hitch and Tully are more observant than we give them credit for."
"Yeah," said Hitch, relieved to have the burden of finding words lifted from him. "And it's OK, y'know?"
Troy stared blankly at him. The shock of realizing that Hitch and Tully knew would ordinarily have been instantly followed by alarm at how they might handle the information. But that concern had already been eliminated, leaving him, for the moment, without an immediate response.
It was Moffitt who answered. "Thanks, Hitch," he said quietly. "I'm glad you know."
Troy nodded silently.
"I'll be back later," Hitch promised. "Gotta go now." Troy, having recovered some of his composure, watched with amusement as Hitch exited rapidly and awkwardly, obviously glad to have a difficult conversation over.
Troy turned back to Moffitt. They locked eyes for a long moment before Troy finally spoke. "It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I was ready to let you die if I had to," he said.
"This is how it has to be," said Moffitt, very seriously. Then his eyes lit up, "But it's good to be alive."