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"Wonder what our next assignment will be," said Hitch as Troy began opening the dispatch from headquarters. "What do you think, Tully?"
The sandy-haired private shrugged. "Cat got your tongue?" asked Troy.
"Aw, leave him be," said Hitchcock. "He only gets three lines of dialogue per raid, and he's saving them." Tully nodded his head, bright golden hair flashing in the sun.
Troy held the envelope at arm's length and said, "I'll take a guess. We'll . . . I know, we'll get into some kind of mutual scrape and Dietrich will save our butts just so he can shoot at us again next week. Honorably."
"Very likely," said Moffitt. "On the other hand, I might be assigned to go spy on some Germans, get caught, interrogated, and rescued in the nick of time just before they shoot me."
Troy shrugged, pulling a smaller envelope out of the big manila one. "Works for me."
"Why can't we do it in a different order?" asked Moffitt plaintively. "Couldn't you rescue me BEFORE they start interrogating?"
Tully's eyes widened under his shock of light brown hair. Hitchcock looked startled. Troy looked thoughtful. "Gee, I guess we never thought of that," the American sergeant said. He was just slitting the inner envelope when suddenly they heard shouts and sounds of people running nearby.
Over the rise came a group of Arabs, five or six middle-aged men waving an assortment of deadly weapons, all shouting at once. The Rat Patrol moved back toward their jeeps but were quickly surrounded.
"What are they saying, Moffitt?"
"They're saying that stupid Americans who only speak English should bloody well go home," Moffitt muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
Moffitt sighed and reported what the men were saying. "They come from several of the villages we passed through a little less than a year ago. They want to know why their unmarried daughters are all presenting them with blond grandchildren."
Tully tugged at a lock of his own buttercup-yellow hair. "Don't look at me," he said. "You know this ain't real." Everyone in the Patrol turned and looked at Hitch, who gulped and turned red.
One of the men in the group stepped forward and spoke urgently. Moffitt translated, "He says there are six more girls in his village alone who are in a delicate condition thanks to our friend here."
Troy turned to Hitch with a look of astonishment. "Hitch, you couldn't!"
The young private grinned at him. "Who was there, Sarge - you or me?"
There was a rumbling sound on the horizon. The Arabs looked around in trepidation and fled. Troy took out his binoculars and studied what appeared to be a convoy in the distance. "What on earth?" he said and passed the binocs to Moffitt. "Tell me what that is."
Moffitt saw five battered Chevrolet trucks, each occupied by three men. They looked tired and sunburned, shaggy and bearded, and were casually dressed in Arab headresses, uniform shorts, and sandals. A few were wearing shirts and he was barely able to recognize a New Zealand insignia before they were out of viewing range. Moffitt stared for another moment and handed the binoculars back to Troy. "I have no earthly idea what that is," he said.
One of the Kiwis on the lead truck spotted a pair of jeeps and a quartet of soldiers off in the distance. "Hey, look," he called to the navigator. "Wait'll the captain gets a load of that!"
The navigator, a lieutenant, looked through his binoculars. He saw four impossibly clean-cut young men, all neatly shaven and shorn, in immaculate uniforms with shirts, long trousers, and boots. The highest-ranking officer he could see was a non-com. "Crazy Yanks," he muttered. The Long Range Desert Group drove on.
Moffitt, Hitch and Tully gathered around Troy as he finally pulled out the message from headquarters. "We get to attack a convoy and blow it up!" Troy exclaimed with glee. "Trucks, tanks, everything."
"Hurray!" said Hitch.
"With machine guns? Against tanks?" said Tully doubtfully.
"Sure," said Hitch, climbing behind the wheel of his jeep.
"I don't see how--"
"Sorry, Tully," said Troy. "You've had your three lines." Pettigrew shrugged eloquently, pulled on his helmet--uncomfortable, but at least it stayed the same color-- and got into his jeep. Moffitt climbed in next to him.
"Are we all ready?" Troy looked around at his men. "Let's shake it!"