Archive of Our Own ^beta

A hot breeze ruffled through the wheat-colored hair of the soldier who was squinting at the machine gun he was mounting on the back of the jeep. He automatically ducked as it swung around on the swivel, the metal hot to the touch from the desert sunlight. It had taken only one whack to teach Private Tully Pettigrew to keep his head down.

Four weeks in North Africa and he'd learned a lot. The legend that the desert was arid was a fallacy down here by the river; here there was humidity and mosquitoes. He jumped down from the jeep, and wiped his face clear of sweat. The medical corps could inoculate against disease borne by insects, but not the stench that rolled off the city. This was nothing like the cool Kentucky hills he'd left behind to join the US Army before he was drafted.

Looking around the motor pool, he saw his fellow private, Mark Hitchcock, had just finished getting the mount fully screwed into place on the other jeep. The blond young man, little more than a boy, was chewing on his omnipresent gum, blowing huge bubbles, in some of the most inspired insolence to military regulations that Tully had ever seen. They had both been put on kitchen patrol, a fancy name for cookhouse duty, for not being suitably respectful to their sergeant.

The only reason Hitchcock got away with the bubbles was his explanation that the gum could be used as glue or to fix holes.

Then again, if they weren't both slightly offbeat, they wouldn't have been sentenced to this duty on this base, helping unload the first set of Lend-lease jeeps delivered to North Africa. They were the Army-designated experts on jeeps.

To Tully, it was an interesting change from the automobiles he'd grown up fixing back in Kentucky. He'd been amazed when some of the British troops had taken him under their wings when they found he knew more about the aged Chevy trucks they were using in the desert than they did. The only way they'd managed to keep him there was to have him assigned to jeep duty. He'd spent the last week helping fix and load up several old Chevys which had rumbled out early that morning. The independent Long Range Desert Patrol had appreciated the help,. The work also kept both Tully and Hitchcock out of trouble -- which they both got into too often, according to Sergeant Muldoon, their commander. The stocky Irishman, he came around the corner, his face creased in a frown, loose papers in his hands. The lanky man following him radiated good-will very different from the sergeant. His pale eyes were ringed with black like an owl's, and his hair was a mixture of salt-and-pepper, and longer than normal. His skin was weathered from the sun and wind.

Tully squinted. The insignia was US Army. They were both sergeants. Huh.

Muldoon glared at Hitchcock. "Got that thing finished, Hitchcock?"

"Yeah, Sarge," Hitchcock replied, swinging the gun up and into its cradle. "Wrong bolts. It's ready to go now."

Tully would have told Hitchcock to keep the last comment to himself. Muldoon himself had brought the mounts and guns, and ordered the installation. Any comment on their difficulty reflected on the NCO. The boy had no sense of self-preservation.

Hitchcock realized his mistake a second later and braced himself for a tirade.

The stranger interceded before Muldoon could do more than suck in his breath. "These our jeeps?" He had a soft accent that was hard to place. Somewhere in the South properly, Tully concluded, but not Georgia or Louisiana.

"Yeah," Muldoon said disgruntled, thwarted. "I gotta check that the mounting's solid and load up the ammunition."

"How long will that take?" the other man said with a slight edge. "You're a day late."

"You in a hurry, Cotter?" Muldoon cracked. "You sound like some of those Brits down the line who are always running at us. Took Pettigrew on one mission and their trucks came back full of holes!"

"The Brits been fightin' longer than we have, and need the stuff right now. Too many soldiers lost out there. I need a couple of drivers as well," Cotter replied good-humoredly. "I gotta pull outta here in four hours, fully loaded, and you're already late."

"We can load them up in couple of hours, and have them ready," Hitchcock cut in unexpectedly, leaning on the back of the passenger seat. "You gotta a driver?"

"You volunteering?" Muldoon snarled, his shoulders tensing. "Didn't they teach you anything in that fancy New Yawk prep school, Hitchcock?"

"Yeah," Hitchcock stared back, not exactly fearlessly but not stepping back. "To fight, Sarge. Not load boxes, and watch other guys fight."

Tully unconsciously nodded, and Muldoon glared at him. "You want some blood as well, Pettigrew? Thought you'd had enough of that your last two-day pass in Abbas!"

"I won all those fights," Tully said. "You need a driver, Sergeant Cotter?"

Cotter chuckled, breaking the stress. "Sounds like a pair of fire-eaters, Muldoon. Can you boys drive?"

Hitchcock pushed back the French Foreign Legion hat he'd acquired. His fair skin was tanned from the hot sun. "Yes, sir."

"They been outrunning the MPs ever since we let them out," Muldoon sniped. He tossed a sheet of papers to Tully. "Load up the jeeps with this, tough guys!"

"I'll take them," Cotter said decisively. "Three day trip out and back. If you guys can get the jeeps loaded in time."

Hitchcock grinned like an excited schoolboy. "We can, Sarge."

Cotter looked at Pettigrew who nodded. He might not be bouncing, but he was looking forward to getting off the base. There was a whole lot of desert to explore and he wanted to get away from Muldoon.

"Come on," Muldoon said to Cotter. "Let's get a drink and I'll tell you about these two guys!"

Cotter shot Tully a wink behind Muldoon's back, and followed the man away.

Hitchcock leaned over, his hand on the mount. "Hey, Tully, we're gonna see some fighting!"

"Yeah, and you dragged me into it," Pettigrew cracked, his light tone at odds with his expression. "You sure that thing's in place?"

"'Course I am," Hitchcock said indignantly. "Check it for yourself!"

"I will. Let's get these boxes loaded up. I wonder where we're going?"

"Outta here. Thank God!"

***

Two hours later, Cotter and Muldoon returned. By that time, both jeeps had been loaded with water, ammunition, boxes of supplies, and the two guns had been tested. A pile of punctured sandbags testified that they were working.

Tully was tired as he leaned on the steering wheel. Despite his toughness, it had been a long hard day in the motor pool.

"You ready to go?" Cotter called.

"I wantta check the guns," Muldoon protested. "Make sure they work, Charlie!"

"I don't have time," Cotter said abruptly. "Gotta meet Troy, and it's going to be tight. I'm sure your guys did a good job."

"But -- " Muldoon's protests were cut off by Hitchcock, who started the engine on one jeep. It purred.

Cotter grinned and sat down beside Pettigrew. "Ready to go?"

Tully nodded. "Yes, sir!"

"Muldoon, you can check the guns out when we get back," Cotter called, slapping Hitchcock on the shoulder. "Head out, Private!"

"Yes, sir!" Hitchcock gunned the engine and they headed out of the motor pool, Tully following behind. In the mirror, he saw Muldoon's expression of deep dislike turn to a snarl. He hoped that Cotter hadn't made an enemy.

***

They drove for much of the day, refilling the gas tanks twice along the way at British outposts. All Cotter said was that they were going to an small base on the edge of the desert. It was evening before they pulled up at the sentry post.

After exchanging salutes and papers with the sentry, Cotter asked, "Seen Sam Troy?"

The sentry snorted. "Yes, indeed! He's up with Captain Fellows at GHQ. Got in two nights ago with the Sixteenth. Said to have a look out for you, Sergeant, and to tell you to go to the main building when you arrived."

"Good! Glad he made it in safely," Cotter said with a trace of relief. "Which way?"

The sentry drew a map and handed it to him. "Don't take the wrong turn. It's not as organized as the officers would like you to believe."

They both chuckled, and Hitchcock drove onto the base as soon as the bar was raised.

The route was crowded with troops and parked tanks, gasoline trucks, battered armored cars, and more artillery than Tully had seen anywhere else. The flashes on the troopers' epaulets, obscured by dirt and sand, showed that this was a mixture of troops from the Royal Army. Many were bandaged or on crutches.

They finally reached the quieter area in front of the GHQ building. A troop was drilling in one side of the square, but beside the men, the only other people in the square were the two guards at the door.

"Right, you boys, stay here, while I... here he is!" Cotter said with a broad grin. He hopped off the back of the jeep and saluted as a man came outside. "Sergeant Charles Cotter, back as ordered with the new jeeps, Sergeant Troy, sir!"

Troy returned the salute with a hint of a grin in his blue eyes. "How are they, Cotter?"

"Like riding a flying carpet, Troy," Cotter said relaxing his stance. "Fast, too."

"That's good," said another voice. It belonged to the man who had followed Troy out of the building. He was one of those small wiry Englishmen with a weather-lined face, and an anonymous accent. Right now, he looked harassed. "Troy, look at this."

Troy took the communiqué, frowned, and handed it back. "Captain Fellows, it's going to be difficult, sir. The LRDP has already left, and there's no other troops free at the moment to go after this."

"I know, but it's urgent," Fellows said thoughtfully. "He asked for you in particular."

"Yes, sir. We've worked together." Troy stared at Hitchcock, then at Pettigrew, then at Cotter. He raised a dark eyebrow.

Pettigrew wondered what he was thinking. Personally, he was impressed by Sergeant Sam Troy. The comfortable uniform was as unconventional as his manner was professional. He seemed to be respected by the British officer. The British were snobbish about the difference between officers and the enlisted ranks, so this meant Troy was something out of the ordinary. Well, with luck, Tully could form his own assessment. "Cotter? What do you think of them?"

Cotter shrugged. "Seem to be fine. Sure drive well!"

Pettigrew realized suddenly that he might see the war a lot sooner than he thought he might. "Us, sir?"

"Feel like a ride in the moonlight, boys?" Troy asked seriously. "Probably nothing dangerous but we could run into trouble."

"Great!" Hitchcock cheerfully cut in, and Troy laughed. The young man was almost bouncing in his seat. "Yes, sir!"

Tully wasn't as sure about this as his friend, but he wasn't going to let Hitchcock go alone. "I'm in, sir."

Troy nodded noting his slight hesitation. "Then we'll get some dinner, and head out before dawn. Captain, can we get some help loading the jeeps?"

"Take what you need, Troy," Fellows said. "Just make sure you make this rendezvous! The Jerries have started some independent patrols to hunt down our long-range desert patrols, so avoid the Germans at all costs."

Troy drew himself into a salute. "Yes, sir."

"In particular there's a Captain Dietrich who took several of our patrols. Watch out for him. Now come inside and bring your second; I have maps that might help. Count on Maykurth to want to meet at the back of the beyond..." Fellows walked back inside muttering under his breath.

"Take the jeeps around the hospital to the motor pool," Troy ordered pointing to a cluster of buildings. "Over there. Tell Samuelson that you're my men and I'm heading out at dawn. Once it's all loaded, come back here. We'll get food."

"Yes, sir!" Pettigrew and Hitchcock chorused.

Cotter jumped down. "See you in a couple of hours, boys!" He joined Troy and they went inside.

Hitchcock blew a bubble from his gum. "Looks like it's up to us, Tully."

"Yeah. Didn't I tell you never to volunteer, Hitch?"

"More fun than unloading jeeps, Tully!"

Pettigrew snorted, and gunned his engine. The jeeps headed around the corner to the motor pool.

***

Tully was hungry enough to eat the boxes the rations came in. He'd hoped for better from the mess hall.

"They were talking about a box of Italian sausages that someone liberated in the last raid," Hitchcock said enviously.

Troy came down the stairs in time to hear the comment. "Probably for the officers' mess. Let's get something to eat and find beds. By the way, what's your names?"

"Tully Pettigrew," Tully answered. "Private."

Troy glanced at him. "Tennessee?"

"Kentucky. Back in the hills."

"Ah. Knew a couple of guys from around there. Good fighters. And you are?"

Hitchcock lifted his head. "Mark Hitchcock from Long Island, New York."

"How old are you?" Troy asked curiously.

"Nineteen."

Tully snorted, then coughed when Troy raised an eyebrow.

"When?" he asked Hitchcock.

Hitchcock grinned. "Couple of days ago."

"Hope you celebrated well."

"KP duty, sir. Potatoes."

"I was there, too," Tully added virtuously.

Troy laughed. "Which one of you got caught?"

Hitchcock shrugged.

They were inside the mess hall before Tully could admit it had been his last fight. He hoped that Troy wouldn't pursue it; it had all been a mistake with Muldoon.

The enlisted mess was crowded with troops. Pettigrew noted that Troy was obviously well-known; the other men greeted him with enthusiastic laughter and a couple of quips. He usually responded with a grin and an occasional comment, but didn't start any conversations.

Finally the three of them sat down at a table where Cotter was already seated eating what looked suspiciously like chipped beef on toast. He waved a fork at them, his mouth full.

"Not that again!" Troy introduced. "Tasty?"

Cotter nodded, chewing. Finally, he managed to swallow. "Glad you'll be on board, boys. By the way, any experience in the desert?"

"Arizona," Hitchcock replied sitting down opposite him. "Out on ranches."

Pettigrew shrugged. "Been around the states, down to Mexico. Out to the pyramids here. And a couple of excursions."

"Then you've been in Egypt a while?" Cotter asked.

Tully replied, "First trip off the boat with the jeeps. Been helping out with teaching people how to fix them."

"Heard you're real good at that," Troy commented. "You were with Meagan's expedition, weren't you?"

Tully grinned. "Wasn't supposed to be there, sir."

"Wasn't that where they got stuck in the dunes, Sarge?" Cotter asked. "I heard about that in the hospital. More like a battle than an excursion!"

"Yeah, and the Krauts came down and almost took all of them except that someone got the only jeep working. The officers got out of there."

"Leaving the troops behind?" Hitchcock asked, glancing at Tully.

"Don't worry; the guys all came back," Tully said, stirring the creamed beef on his plate. "Pretty simple stuff. Used some old champagne bottles and gasoline to keep them at bay, and shot up their cars."

"Held them off long enough for a couple of Brit tanks to show up and scare them off," Cotter added, watching him shrewdly.

"Jeez, I let you out of sight for a couple of weeks, and you get all the good fun," Hitchcock teased him.

"Heard you got shipped out here because of racing jeeps back at Benning, school boy," Tully teased him.

"Making trouble, eh?" Cotter asked.

"I was testing them to see if the engines had been well-tuned," Hitchcock said with a barely smothered grin. "They were meant for the battlefields, after all –

"And the other guy was just testing as well?"

"He was an officer -- "

"Who didn't like getting beaten," Pettigrew needled him back.

Hitchcock grinned. "You taught me the finer part of racing, Tully, back at Fort Benning. It's your fault."

Pettigrew noticed the slight approving glance between Cotter and Troy. They were being tested, and seemed to be coming out ahead. "How about you?" he asked Cotter, who was mopping up the last of the beef with a bit of hard bread.

"Hmm? Oh, Florida for most of my life. Family had an orange grove. Lots of sailing around as well."

"Which is why you're here," Troy cracked. "Lots of water out here."

"Sailing sand dunes, Sarge," Cotter retorted with a grin. He was probably a good five years older than Troy who was probably pushing thirty by Pettigrew's estimate. "Naw, had a German cook and know the lingo. Gotta have someone to translate "Surrender!" when we cut the Afrika Korps apart!"

"What about you, Sarge?" Hitchcock asked, turning to Troy.

"Let's get finished and get moving. We leave in six hours," Troy ordered, cutting off any discussion of his past.

***

They drove south until they ran out of hard-baked clay or stone roads. Traveling from oasis to oasis, it took a day and a half to reach the small city of Abbas where Troy got refills of gasoline and water. They spent a couple of hours getting familiar with the new jeeps and the machine guns. Troy and Cotter fired them to make sure all was well, then they put on the leather caps to keep blowing sand out of the machinery, and ate and slept until just before daybreak. Starting out in the cold air of morning, they were guided only by Sam Troy's compass and Fellows' maps.

It was enough.

They drove past a small destroyed outpost into the desert sands, then into the mountains. Skirting a small set of hills, they found more desert. It was mid-afternoon that they reached a nondescript spot of sand marked only by a tumbled column from an abandoned temple. The sand had covered what was probably a promising Roman city.

"Take a break," Troy ordered through cracked lips. "We move out to the rendezvous from here."

Cotter nodded, sinking down next to the jeep. Pulling down the kerchief protecting his face, he took a mouthful of water, swallowed, then poured a little into his hand and wiped his face. Sand and water dribbled down his neck like a river through the arid desert. His goggles were sand-scored.

Hitchcock had added an embroidered handkerchief that could only have come from home, to the rear of his Foreign Legion cap. It hung down to protected his neck. His fair skin had been tanned at Benning and from working on the docks, but it was turning a rich mahogany now that he was out in the desert so much. He was asleep seconds after lying down.

Tully regretted staying with the iron pot helmet that he'd brought with him. It was hotter than hell and didn't really protect him from the sun. "I'll take the first watch, Sarge," he said to Troy, putting the helmet on the butt of his rifle, which was holstered beside the steering wheel. His hair was plastered with sweat.

Troy squinted around at the desert. "Good idea. Four hours enough?"

"Yeah. Expect to see anything?"

"There's a German captain named Hans Dietrich who's been doing some raiding. He may turn up out of nowhere," Troy warned. "He's taken several convoys. One of the best in the Afrika Korps. Seems to be everywhere."

"I'll keep an eye out for him," Pettigrew said, taking a sip of water. "Get some sleep, Sarge. You look dead on your feet."

Troy shot him a frown but didn't dispute it. "Four hours."

"Four hours."

***

Tully surveyed the area from atop of the fallen marble column. Sand, sand, all around, and nothing but a couple of clouds marring the sky. The light was scorching, and he was glad for the dark glasses that Cotter had lent him before falling asleep.

He glanced at the three sleepers. Hitchcock was doing well for some kid who probably had never been in a dangerous situation in his life, -- outside of Fort Benning, that is. Cotter was probably shrewder than he seemed. He might come off as a light-weight but Sam Troy trusted him implicitly and Pettigrew was willing to go along with that.

Troy was the giant enigma that Tully couldn't quite make out. He'd found out from some of the guys at the motor pool that Troy had been fighting in this desert before the US had formally come into the war, and that he was viewed as a good solid fellow, but he held himself apart.

The latter didn't tell Tully anything more than he could have seen for himself over the day. Troy was meticulous in his directions, but as silent as a clam.

Could give Uncle Hank lessons in talking, Tully thought, scanning the horizon. Nothing moving out there. Hank had always been a quiet man, but a craftsman at art of producing moonshine at the still. Tully's first taste of liquor came from the family stash, and he'd compared it with others over the years -- to the others' detriment.

There was more going on here than Tully saw. It wasn't as if they were anywhere near the current battle lines. Hell, if the Krauts got this far, they'd be sipping drinks on the veranda at Shepheard's Hotel in Cairo and running the Brits' polo ponies over the cricket greens before Tully could drive back to that tiny town of Abbas!

But it didn't matter what was going on, the fact was that at least he and Hitch were off those goddamn docks and away from Sergeant Muldoon, who had made Tully's life a misery when he first arrived, and who had gone after Hitchcock when the young man arrived with the next shipment. Avoiding Muldoon had become a way of life for both of them. Their only leave had taken them all over the exotic city, including the stews. They had been lucky, come away with no diseases, but Tully had had a headache that would beat a band. Hitchcock had poured him back into his bunk, and made sure he was breathing the next morning. That had landed both of them on KP for days.

So, whatever Sergeant Sam Troy had in mind, Tully was going to stick with Hitchcock because the boy might be outta a fancy prep-school, but he was a good guy. Pretty fair shot as well, and knew some German which helped at times. Of course, he called it Pennsylvania Dutch.

Tully looked at his watch. Time to wake Troy.

Unexpectedly, the sergeant sat up, rubbing his eyes, and then glanced at him. "Time?"

"Yeah, Sarge," Tully replied.

Troy walked over. "See anything?"

"Nope."

"Get some rest. You'll need it tonight," Troy advised.

Pettigrew nodded. Sounded good to him. He stretched out beside Hitchcock and fell asleep thinking of the cool drinks and beautiful women he'd seen from a distance at the officer's club in Cairo.

***

Tully started the engine and drove off, followed by Hitchcock. A mile later, they stopped and let Troy and Cotter catch up. The two men had been brushing the sand back into their tracks, enough so the light wind that rose at evening could erase the rest.

Troy sank into the seat beside Tully with an unconscious sigh of relief. It had been back-breaking work. Tully hated to interrupt his moment of peace but he had to ask, "Where' we going?"

"Hmm? Oh," Troy reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded map. "Three miles to the road, then right, south for another ten. Map coordinates 25R. We're meeting someone, get some information, then back to Abbas. We're heading into the canyons."

"Right. Straight ahead to the road?"

"Yes."

"Get some sleep, Sarge. This I can handle," Tully commented, and put the jeep in gear. The next time he looked over, Troy was asleep in the next seat.

***

It was a cloud of dust that warned Pettigrew that there was trouble ahead. It was slightly dissipated, as if it were settling instead of being stirred up, but he slowed.

The change in speed alerted Troy who stirred, then sat up. He rubbed dirt off his face. "What is it?" Tully pointed.

Troy's jaw clenched and he leaned forward like a pointer. "Damn!" He held up his hand and Tully slowed.

Hitchcock and Cotter came up beside them. Cotter asked, "What's up, Troy?"

"Trouble."

"Germans?"

Troy shrugged. "Could be anyone."

"That's where we're gonna meet Maykurth, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't like this. We'd better take precautions." Troy glanced at Hitchcock, then at Pettigrew. Both stared back at him without fear. "Right. We split up. The rendezvous point was half a mile up the wadi."

"'Wadi'?" Hitchcock asked.

"Canyon," Troy translated. "Cotter, sit at the mouth and keep watch. If it is the Germans, then I want to know where they go if they come out."

"Right, Sarge."

"Pettigrew, you and I'll go uphill and see if we can see what is going on."

Pettigrew shot Hitchcock a quick grin and Hitchcock lifted one shoulder as if to say, 'who cares?' Both knew that it was action they both craved.

Troy pointed, and Tully took off, following his instruction. Hitchcock drove away, following Cotter's commands.

***

Several hours later, Tully was wishing he was sitting in a nice quiet jeep and waiting. He leaned over the edge of the cliff and eyed the crowd below him. Whoever they were supposed to meet had had unexpected visitors.

Two trucks and a half-track. German soldiers at the narrow point where the road led from the mountains, and others at the other end. A fire where two bearded Arabs were talking furiously with a Kraut officer, while another man lay to one side, on folded dark cloth, ominously still. He was dressed in khaki. Two camels knelt nearby, patiently chewing on their cud; the body of a third had been dragged to one side.

"Damn," Troy had said almost too softly for Tully to hear. "Stay here, Pettigrew."

Tully nodded. He hunkered down to wait as Troy climbed halfway down, hiding behind boulders. He dodged behind a big one when the trim German officer walked over to the wounded man, and knelt. Unexpectedly, his words were in English. They echoed up the steep walls.

"You are badly wounded, Captain Maykurth. I will send you to a hospital camp and will release your friends, if you tell me whom you were going to meet and where."

The injured officer turned his head to reply. Tully couldn't tell what the answer was but the German stiffened as if affronted.

"You know what happens to Arabs who have been caught aiding the Allies," the German replied in a harsher tone. "We hang them on hooks through their jaws. It is a slow, pain-filled death. Would you wish that on your friends?"

"Would you do that, Captain?" Maykurth replied weakly.

The captain hesitated before saying firmly, "Of course. Tell me what you know or I will!"

Maykurth chuckled. "They don't know... anything, Captain. Just my guides."

"Does that matter to me, Captain? Or to you? They are still your men, and you are condemning them to death!"

"Let them go... They don't know -- "

"After you give me the information!"

Tully saw Troy coming back up. He retreated to the jeep to join him as Troy pulled the radio out of the back.

"What you got planned, Sarge?" Tully asked settling in his seat.

Troy shot him a considering look. "Get Maykurth free."

"That Kraut won't let him go even if he's alive," Tully warned. "He looks badly wounded."

"The officer might be in the mood for a trade."

"Trade? What? A jeep?"

"Nope." Troy said into the radio's microphone, "This is Red Fox to Red Fox Two, come in, Red Fox Two."

"Red Fox Two," Cotter sounded cheerful.

"Red Fox, we got Germans. Plan A."

Cotter chuckled. "When?

Troy glanced up at the moon setting. "Three walk around."

"Done. See ya."

Troy set the mike back on the radio.

"'Walk around'?" Tully asked.

"Means an hour. We'll meet in three hours, just about dawn. We gotta get this jeep down and talk with Cotter about rescuing Maykurth."

Tully nodded. "You got a plan?"

"Yeah."

***

They met up at the mouth of the wadi and retreated until there was no chance of being interrupted by the enemy.

Cotter started a small fire, which helped against the freezing night. Both Pettigrew and Hitchcock hunched close to the flames. Their jackets weren't made for this kind of cold. Tully made a mental note to get a thicker jacket that if he survived the next day.

"What do you think, Tully?" Hitchcock finally asked. Troy and Cotter had moved back to the jeep to fine-tune the attack.

Tully glanced at the silhouettes. "He'll tell us the details, I hope. Probably a helluva risk."

Hitchcock grinned. "It's what I got in the Army for."

"Could get you killed," Tully warned, looking at Hitchcock. He looked so damn young.

"You too."

"Yeah... Wonder who this Maykurth is?" Tully wondered out loud.

"He's the guy who saved Sam Troy's life," Cotter said unexpectedly out of the darkness. He sat down opposite them and held out his hands to the flickering flames. They were white and chilled. "Got him into the LRDP too, along with me. But don't go asking Troy about Maykurth."

"Why not?" Hitchcock asked.

Cotter shrugged. "Brings up bad memories. Dunno know the details, but I know Maykurth saved his life."

"Is that why Troy won't let this go?" Tully questioned.

"Sam Troy doesn't leave anyone behind unless he has to," Cotter said seriously. "Remember that in the future. Unless he's following orders -- and even then he works around it."

"Future? Our future's back on those docks," Tully commented, rubbing his hands together. "Dunno how we can avoid that."

Cotter grinned. "Nothing's written in stone," he said airily. "Do a good enough job and maybe you can join up with us. Here's Troy."

Troy sat down beside Pettigrew. "How fast can those jeeps go?"

"Over this kind of terrain? 'Bout -- "

"They can outrun the German trucks," Hitchcock cut in impetuously. "Beat them to flinders."

Troy flicked a considering glance at him before looking at Tully. "What kind of drivers are you both really?"

"Used to outrun the Revenue men who raided our still," Tully answered lazily. "They never caught our liquor. Hitch used to race his cars. We can outrun them."

Troy looked from one to the other, then at Cotter. "Right. This is the plan. We lure that German captain out and grab him alive. Trade him back to his men for Maykurth and the Arabs."

"Will they go for it?" Hitchcock wondered.

Troy grinned. "German soldiers always obey orders. If he orders them to, they will!"

"How are you planning to get him alive, Sam?" Cotter asked.

"We'll have to be damned careful about our shooting. It doesn't matter if he's wounded -- but he has to be alive!"

The sky was a vivid red as the sun rose over the edge of the canyon. Pettigrew sat beside his camouflaged jeep and watched Cotter and Hitchcock wheel into the wadi.

Hitchcock was alight with anticipation. Tully hoped he was up to the task; this wasn't like driving in the local road races back on Long Island. In fact, it wasn't like running away from government men either. This was something new, and hellishly dangerous.

The small jeep disappeared down the wadi, Cotter comfortably sitting on the edge of the tire with the rigged machine gun in front of him.

Troy had already gone down on foot to scout out the situation.

Tully admired the sergeant's nerve and daring. He wouldn't have walked into that canyon. Whatever Maykurth was to Troy, he was dead set on retrieving him, dead or alive.

"About fifteen minutes if I'm lucky. Just gotta make sure the Krauts don't see me when they come out," Tully said aloud, and took a small sip from the canteen and watched the sun climb out of a layer of red into the light blue sky. It was going to be another scorching day in the desert.

Twenty minutes later, he heard the booming of grenades and the sound of a racing engine.

Hitchcock and Cotter careened out of the wadi, Cotter firing the machine gun. A minute later, the half-track followed, the German captain on top, looking as if he had been aroused from sleep, from his undone coat, and lack of a cap. They followed as close as they could and not get massacred by the half-track's gun. Another truck with soldiers followed behind them.

That meant there was one truck left back with Maykurth.

Tully waited until the dust masked the calvacade, and the sound of engines faded. He drove the jeep to the front of the canyon, and waited.

Troy came running out, his pistol in one hand. "Get moving!" he ordered leaping into the back seat. He swung the machine gun around and Tully pulled the covering of the muzzle off.

"What happened?" Tully called, gunning the engine. Troy jolted back as they took off, and then braced himself.

"They were loading the prisoners into the other truck when Cotter showed up. They aren't going anywhere right now -- got a flat tire."

"Maykurth?"

"Dunno, but they were being gentle. I saw the Arabs take off up the canyon so they may be gone when we get back."

Tully wasn't really interested in the Arabs so he just nodded.

It was a beautiful fresh morning for a fight and he was looking forward to finally getting some battle action.

They came up behind the half-track and started firing. The bullets stitched holes through the canvas sides and men fell with screams of pain.

The surviving soldiers returned the fire as Tully drove by, scattering sand. He heard a ping as one bullet glanced off his pot helmet probably leaving a scar in the heavy metal. Well, there was a use for the heavy monster! He'd keep it.

Troy smacked his shoulder, and he went to the right as they had planned. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hitchcock come wheeling back, Cotter shooting at the half-track, well below where the captain was shouting orders.

Dirt exploded on the left, and Tully steered around the new pothole. The Germans were using grenades. Troy threw a grenade and the truck exploded, sending men flying. Tully wheeled the jeep so it was diagonal to the half-track which was being raked by Cotter's gun, and stopped. Troy shouted, "Surrender!" He braced himself to start shooting if the man hesitated too long, or he saw another gun.

The captain looked at him angrily, raising his pistol. Troy cocked the machine gun. "Live or die, Captain! Surrender or lose the rest of your men!"

The German hesitated. Indecisively, he looked at his soldiers, wounded or well. Hitchcock came up on the other side. The officer was caught in the crossfire. "I... surrender."

"Throw down the guns!" Troy ordered. "You too, Captain! Get rid of the Luger!"

"Through out the guns!" the captain ordered in German, and they obeyed, raising their hands. Tully estimated three non-wounded, including the captain. The wounded groaned.

Troy dismounted and walked over, his gun held ready.

The captain reciprocated, buttoning his jacket as he walked across the sand between them. He looked bitterly angry and disappointed. In perfect English, he declared, "I am Hauptmann Hans Dietrich of the Afrika Korps. You are...?"

"Sergeant Sam Troy, US Army. Cotter, check the truck."

Cotter stood up on the back of the jeep to peek over the side of the half-track. All he saw were bleeding soldiers who glared back at him if they could. Several were dead. "Looks clean, Sarge."

Dietrich didn't shift his gaze from Troy. "Let me call for help for my wounded. If my radio is working."

Troy smiled wolfishly. "Is that half-track still running, Cotter?"

"Naw, Sarge. We took out the engine."

"Right. Going to be a long walk back to your camp for the wounded, Captain. But don't worry. You can send the other truck back for them. We're all going back to your camp."

Dietrich frowned suspiciously. He didn't move. "My camp? What do you want there?"

"You'll see," Troy replied flatly. "Get in the jeep. Cotter, if he doesn't move in ten seconds, rake the truck with -- "

"Nein!" Dietrich contradicted him, swinging around. "You would kill wounded men?"

"You were going to hang Arabs on a hook to die," Troy shot back.

"I only threatened to. I was going to let them go since they told me all they could," Dietrich replied arrogantly. "They came from a local tribe and I don't need to alienate the native people."

"Right, Captain," Troy said harshly. He settled on the top of the back seat. "I know all about how you Germans treat prisoners. Doubt you'd just give them their camels and let them go."

Dietrich frowned. "I don't understand. Did you really believe I'd kill those men?"

"Doesn't matter to me. Get in the front seat. Tell your men we're going back to your camp, and you can use the radio there to call for help."

Dietrich stared at him in disbelief, then shrugged. He called to his men, who saluted, then swung into the front seat of the jeep, right in front of Troy.

"My other truck is full of fresh troops," he said conversationally.

"But we have you, Captain. Are they going to shoot you?"

"You expect me to surrender all my men?" Dietrich asked incredulously.

Troy shook his head. "No. I want a trade."

Dietrich looked back to find Troy's sharp knife just at jaw level. "A trade? For whom? Ah! Captain Maykurth?"

Troy smiled. "Settle back, Captain Dietrich. It won't take long to get there. Cotter, you and Hitchcock lead the way!"

Cotter waved, then lurched as Hitchcock accelerated. From the way the young man was grinning, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Tully grinned. How would they keep Hitchcock back at the family estates now that he'd seen the high life of North Africa!

Tully fell in line, very aware of the fuming German officer next to him. This was the closest Pettigrew had ever come to the enemy, and it might be the last. He thought that if Dietrich was an example of Rommel's troops, than this would be a long war. He sitting still as Troy's knife rested against the back of his neck.

It took twenty minutes to come up to the wadi. Cotter led the way down the narrow ravine.

"Tully, pull to one side when you get in. I want a clear view," Troy ordered.

"Yep," Tully replied. As soon as the side of the canyon widened, he saw Cotter sitting his hands up, but the German soldiers who had been with the other truck, were all pointing their guns at the jeep.

Nonchalantly, Hitchcock blew a bubble in his chewing gum, and crossed his hands on the steering wheel.

The soldiers gaped at Troy's jeep, with his captive in the front seat. Sunlight sparkled off the edge of the knife.

"Right, Captain, now I want you to order them to bring Captain Maykurth over to the other jeep," Troy suggested in a loud voice.

"And what if I don't, Sergeant?" Dietrich asked silkily.

"Then there will be a bloodbath here, because I'll take the truck out before you can move," Troy replied. He leaned forward until Dietrich could see the sharp blade. "My men will start to fire. How many troops can we kill before we die? And you die first, Captain."

"I'm not afraid of dying," Dietrich said harshly.

"Me neither," Troy replied. "But not today. Give the order!"

"My men are behind some of the boulders. They'll pick you off -- "

"You're coming with me to the mouth of the wadi, then I'll let you go," Troy promised. "Tell them to put Maykurth in the jeep!"

"What if he's dead, Sergeant?" Dietrich asked quietly. "He was badly wounded -- "

"Then I want the body," Troy said succinctly. "And the Arabs if you caught them again."

Looking around, Tully couldn't see the robed natives any longer. Maybe they had escaped during the first attack.

Dietrich took a deep breath, stood up with the edge of Troy's knife against his jugular, and began issuing orders.

His second in command protested, but Dietrich's tone was imperious. After a short order, the man turned and yelled at the truck.

Two soldiers carried Maykurth out of the back. They carefully settled him in the front seat of Hitchcock's jeep, where he sagged against the side. He looked unconscious.

"Right. Now, Cotter, get ready! We follow you. You'll get out at the mouth of the wadi, Herr Hauptmann," Troy ordered.

Dietrich raised his head proudly. "Your word on that, Sergeant?"

"My word, Captain," Troy said fiercely. "I keep mine. How about yours?"

Dietrich turned, to be stopped by the edge of the blade. A trickle of blood dripped from a slight cut. "My word as a German officer?"

"Yours as a person. I don't trust your officers."

"Have you dealt with many, Sergeant?"

"Yeah. They hang POWs from cannons and impale Arabs on hooks to die," Troy said harshly. "Just tell your men what to do. Cotter, get ready to move out."

Dietrich frowned but didn't ask any more questions. After he stopped, Cotter nodded towards Troy, then said something to Hitchcock. The jeep jerked forward towards the exit. As the jeep passed Tully, he heard a groan. Maykurth was still alive. Thank God. This might just be worth it.

"Now we go," Troy ordered. "Tully?"

"They'll follow us, Sarge."

"Then the Captain here won't have to walk back," Troy said flippantly. "Tully?"

"Gotcha," Pettigrew replied and neatly turned the jeep around. He was aware of the troops in the walls of the canyons above them. Troy lifted his knife away from Dietrich's neck.

"Who did you meet, Sergeant?" Dietrich asked abruptly. "The other officer. Hanging POWs?"

"Never mind," Troy said evasively looking around. "Get moving, Tully."

Tully sped up. They reached the mouth of the canyon where Cotter was awaiting them, his gun still held ready.

"Here's where you get off," Troy ordered Dietrich

"You're letting me go?" Dietrich said incredulously.

"I gave you my word," Troy replied. "But you'd better hurry because I'm not stopping for more than thirty seconds to let you off."

"And you've lost the first ten," Tully interjected unexpectedly. "Dust coming, Sarge."

"Your men, Dietrich. Get out of here!" Troy said giving him a shove that sent him tumbling out onto the rocky sand. "Cotter, get out of here!"

Cotter nodded and tapped Hitchcock on the shoulder. They took off as if banshees were on their tails.

Dietrich turned. "I'll see you again, Sergeant! We'll finish this discussion!"

Troy didn't reply but gave a faint smile. Tully pressed hard on the accelerator, and Dietrich rolled out of the way, coughing in the cloud of dust left behind.

They weren't pursued though both drivers drove like they thought they would be. It was almost dark when they finally pulled into the narrow streets of Abbas.

Maykurth hadn't moved since he was put in the jeep. Cotter had been bracing him to help alleviate the bumping. They drove up to the base hospital, and parked. Two orderlies came running out when Troy bellowed.

"Good Lord," a doctor said coming down the stairs. "What happened to him?"

"Ran into a German patrol," Troy said, coming up to the jeep. His gaze met Cotter's and the other man looked somber. He shook his head.

"Is he alive?" the doctor asked. "Here, let me in there."

"Barely," Cotter said. "At least he's not cold anymore."

Maykurth opened his eyes. He smiled weakly. "Hello, Troy."

"Hi, Captain. Guess it's my turn to save you," Troy replied with some unexpected warmth. "Let's get you some help."

Maykurth's eyelids fluttered closed.

"Looks like a bloody mess. Damn shame! Bullet wounds too," the doctor said in a worried tone. The orderlies lifted the man out. "Careful there! Take him inside."

Tully looked at the bloodstains on the seat, and hoped that the captain would make it. He wasn't willing to bet on it. He saw Hitchcock's aghast expression and thought it was the first time the boy had seen a dying man. The battle had produced some, but they'd been so engaged in action, that it didn't hit like this. Probably the first of many, Hitch, if we join up with this patrol!

"I have to report to Cairo," Troy said abruptly. "And we need food and gas, sir."

"I'm sure the base commander can find you chaps some food and bunks," the doctor called back. "He's in GHQ."

"I know the way," Troy said. "Cotter, get squared away and join me."

"Yes, sir!"

***

Two nights later, Cotter came into their assigned room. Tully and Hitchcock had spent their days working either on the jeeps, or helping the British with their varied vehicles. But they hadn't heard anything more about what lay in their future. Troy had vanished.

Cotter returned their salutes.

"What's up, Sarge?" Hitchcock asked. "Got a job for us?"

"Funeral, private."

Tully frowned. "Captain Maykurth?"

Cotter's gaze met his for a second before nodding. There was immense regret in his eyes. "Didn't make it. Died this morning."

"How's Troy taking it?" Hitchcock asked quietly.

"Ask him yourself," Cotter replied. "Here he comes."

Troy came in, brushing back his hair. He paused at their expressions, then he turned to Cotter. "Maykurth?"

"Yeah, Sarge," Cotter replied, nodding. His expression was compassionate, though his tone was flat. "Funeral's in an hour."

Troy's face was shuttered. "Better get ready for it, then. Pettigrew, Hitchcock! Feel like joining the commandos?"

Both stood, saluted, and struggled to hide grins that would be inappropriate to the situation. "Yes, sir!" "Yes, sir!"

"The Brits insist on running you through their training, then you'll come back here. We'll be doing what we just did."

"Rescuing people?" Hitchcock asked eagerly.

Troy's jaw set as he glared at the young man. "More like making trouble for the Germans, Hitch."

"Sounds good to me," Tully declared, his grin breaking through.

"Me too," Hitchcock chimed in.

"Good." Troy held out two folded papers. "Here are your orders. You report tomorrow." He turned and headed for the door.

"Sarge?" Tully asked before Troy escaped.

"Yeah?"

"We'll be working for you?"

Troy nodded. "Yep."

"Who suggested that?" Cotter asked quietly.

"Maykurth. His last recommendation. Suggested it before he went under ether. Where did you say they were burying him?"

"A half-hour from now in the local cemetery. See you there?"

Troy nodded, and left more quickly than he had come. Whatever emotion he felt about losing his friend, he held tightly inside. Tully reckoned he'd never know exactly what made Troy tick, but he was glad to know that he was affected by a friend's death.

Cotter sighed. "Hope we're still around when you finish training, and Troy doesn't get me wiped out by then! See you boys tonight."

"Going to the cemetery, Sarge?"

"Church. Wouldn't hurt to light a candle for a good man," Cotter replied compassionately.

"For Troy or Maykurth?" Tully inquired, cocking his head.

"For whoever needs it most," Cotter said soberly. "Who knows, next time it might be me. Bye."

Pettigrew felt a cold shiver. It could be any of the four of them at any time in the future. But until then, he was going to live it up. "Hey, Hitch, let's explore. Tomorrow, we gotta report."

"Explore? Where?"

Tully grinned and pointed out the window at the lights of the city, and the desert beyond. "Out there. Come on."