The Rat Patrol 2: Desert Danger

by David King

  A squad of a dozen men marched into the open space, an order was gruffly given and the squad dispersed, six men on each side, back from the alley and lighted entrance. They knelt there, rifles ready, Troy rolled slowly back onto the roof and swore silently, not in his mind but in his throat. Dietrich had them bottled up in Sidi Abd.

  6

  Jack Moffitt could feel the tension etching his face as he pushed with his elbows and pulled himself backward with his toes in the sand. He wormed alongside the tanks until the full length of a halftrack loomed between him and the vehicle Hitch and he had appropriated. Then he stopped in the deep black pocket, hard against a tank track, to consider what he must do.

  What could have happened to Hitch was beyond his comprehension or imagination. He dismissed any idea that Hitch had wandered off to have a smoke or for any purpose whatsoever. Renegade, don't-give-a-damn, school bad-boy he might have been, but guerilla soldier he was also and one of the best. Hitch would not willingly have left his assigned position, which left the only alternative: Hitch had been taken away by force.

  But how, in the few minutes between the time Hitch had crawled onto the floor in the front and Moffitt had slid from the back of the halftrack to the front seat, could Hitch have been spirited away without a sound?

  The situation was so fantastic Moffitt could not believe it but he was forced to accept it. Accept it and look at it calmly, old boy, he told himself. Hitch is gone, you are not. Therefore, whoever nabbed Hitch is unaware of you. But he could not accept it calmly. Wouldn't Hitch have been marched straight to the guard? Wouldn't there have been conversation or at least an order that he would have heard? Wouldn't the sentries immediately have combed the entire area? Certainly there would have been a hubbub at the discovery of an American soldier, or even an Arab, hiding in a halftrack. Arabs? Were they the answer? Had the Arabs somehow taken Hitch to hold for the highest bidder?

  There were no answers but one: whatever the odds, Moffitt had to remain, hidden and uncaptured, to be on hand when and if Troy and Tully came out with Wilson.

  Moffitt ground his teeth in frustration and experienced a strange pressure that seemed to bind his head with bands of steel. He had to see, to know whether there was any unusual activity. He pushed away from the tank and burrowed under the halftrack next to it, between the caterpillar treads and front wheels. With his cheek pressed against the hard cold rubber of a tire, he looked toward the gateway of the town. The guard was within the shallow tunnel under the lantern in his usual slumped position, relaxed but alert, noting the sentry about-facing by the halftracks across the way. That meant the sentry between the tanks and tents on this side was in the same position and would be starting back down the line. Moffitt lay perfectly still between the wheels under the vehicle so no motion would betray him.

  He heard the sentry on his side returning from the wall, and just before the Jerry came beside the tank opposite, he heard the single word "Doc" whispered with urgency by Hitch. Moffitt's heart leapt in a surge of release but the bands about his head tightened. Don't, Hitch, he said in his mind, don't call again until the Jerry is out of hearing. The sentry marched on and Moffitt scurried out into the dark aisle that separated the machine.

  "Hitch," he whispered.

  There was no answer. He called again and the silence beat against his eardrums. He crawled back to the first halftrack and under it.

  "Hitch?"

  No one was there, nothing but the awful silence of the night.

  Easy, easy, he told himself, he's got to be somewhere here. He returned to the tank treads beyond the second halftrack, watching in the pitch black, listening where he had heard the whisper before, waiting to hear it again. He called Hitch softly, two more times, but there was no response. This is Hitch's misguided idea of a joke, he thought angrily and caught himself up quickly. Under other circumstances certainly, but not in these circumstances. Hitch was no fool. Was he lying somewhere hurt, unable to move, unconscious?

  The sentry came back on his post from the end of the line. Don't call now, Moffitt said in his mind to Hitch, but the Jerry had scarcely gone by when he heard the whisper again. "Doc."

  As soon as the sentry reached the wall, Moffitt whispered, "Where?" but there was no answer. I've got to find him, Moffitt thought desperately, before he gives us both away. And now as the sentry returned, Hitch answered him. "At the end of the line, Doc." Moffitt tightened in every sinew of his body but the sentry continued without breaking his pace.

  Dizzily Moffitt dug his way down the line of armored vehicles. Was there some strange, unfelt current of desert air that was carrying Hitch's voice to him? Did these closely packed lines of steel create a phenomenon of physics, some inexplicable sound tunnel? Or had the Jerries screwed the truth from Hitch? Moffitt hesitated. Was he being lured from hiding by someone pretending to be Hitch.

  He crawled on despite his doubts, reached the last tank and halftrack, lay between them at the edge of the open desert. He heard the sentry walking to the end of his post. The Jerry did not turn on his heel and start back. Moffitt heard the stealthy movement of the man at the front of the tank. He was creeping to the grave Moffitt had dug himself. The sentry loomed over him with his rifle. Moffitt leapt to his feet clutching Hitch's noose in Ms hands.

  "Doc," the sentry said and popped his gum for identification.

  "Hitch!" The word stuck in Moffitt's throat.

  "Kind of a shock, isn't it?" Hitch said, rapping his pot helmet and flaring the great coat that hung about Ms ankles.

  "What happened?" Moffitt managed.

  "Can only tell you a little at a time, Doc," Hitch said and chuckled. "That guard times me on my patrol. I had to take the sentry. He spotted you. Just stay put. Don't miss the next exciting chapter."

  Hitch spun on his heel and doubletimed down the line. Moffitt leaned against the tire of the halftrack. He could put together what had happened but he was spent and felt incapable of understanding it. He waited for Hitch to explain.

  In jerky sequence on half a dozen trips, Hitch told his story. The sentry, coming between the lines of vehicles to steal another smoke, apparently had glimpsed Moffitt going over the side into the back of the halftrack. Thinking it was only an Arab looking for a place to sleep, perhaps seeing a chevron in it for his action, the sentry had stolen after Moffitt. Hitch had looked out to check just as the sentry came up and he dropped the sentry with a judo chop to his Adam's apple. Then fearing the guard would be alerted when the sentry did not appear on schedule, Hitch had dragged the body away from the halftrack, put on his helmet and coat, shouldering his Mauser and been walking his post ever since.

  "There wasn't time to tell you, Doc," Hitch apologized.

  "Think nothing of it, old boy," Moffitt said and laughed. "But what did you do with the body?"

  "Like I said, there wasn't time to stop by for a chat," Hitch said. "I got rid of the body in the halftrack with the other victim. I've been peeling his clothes from him in case you need an orderly. That's where I stashed my robes."

  "How long do you think you can get away with this?" Moffitt asked, thoroughly amused now.

  "Until they change the guard. I figure 2400 hours."

  "And then?"

  "And then I'll be off duty," Hitch said and chuckled.

  "You'll be recognized," Moffitt warned.

  "Oh no, I won't," Hitch said. He pulled a muffler from the pocket of the coat. "He carried this with him, I figure he used it. I'll wrap it around my face."

  Moffitt glanced at the dial of his watch, glowing in the dark.

  "Then you'd better get at it right off," he said and laughed. "You'll just about make it. I wish I could see it. This should be better than the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace."

  "Why don't you?" Hitch said, wrapping his nose and jaw in the scarf. "Watch from the back of the halftrack. It's safe on this side right now. I'll join you there as soon as I can."

  Still cautious, Moffitt toed silently back to the halftrack wh
ile Hitch jogged toward the wall. Moffitt was in time to see Hitch with the other three sentries being relieved present arms to the guard. The four new sentries were lined up facing them. The burly guard had come out from his little cave in the wall and was grimly giving the new sentries personal inspection. Hitch did not, Moffitt was certain, know the German manual or understand any of the German orders. At the moment Hitch looked like any of the other Jerries but Moffitt knew he must be feeling more alone than ever he had felt before in his life.

  The guard completed his inspection and heeled to give an order. An enlisted man with a rifle slung over his shoulder ran from the wall shouting an unintelligible string of nervous but imperative words. The guard roared two orders, the four new sentries marched to their posts and the sentries who had been relieved slouched off dragging their rifles, two to the area on the other side, Hitch and the other toward Moffitt's side. Hitch lagged behind and when the other two Jerries were well beyond, he dived between the tanks and shinnied into the back of the halftrack. Moffitt glanced over at the entrance and saw the guard had left and the enlisted man with the slung rifle was standing under the lantern.

  "What is it with the Jerries?" Moffitt asked Hitch.

  "Can't tell, don't savvy Kraut. But something has excited them."

  The beefy guard returned to his post and a few minutes later, men hastily aroused and still adjusting their uniforms began to assemble at the entrance. Two carried machine pistols and lanterns, the others rifles. The enlisted man who had brought the message to the guard gave an order, the men lined up in two columns of six at attention. He barked another order, the men with machine pistols and lanterns started out and he fell into the column behind them. They moved into Sidi Abd at doubletime.

  "You catch?" Hitch asked.

  "Jerries don't tell their lads what's up, you know," Moffitt said. "They're reporting to headquarters."

  "Troy and Tully?" Hitch asked.

  "Undoubtedly," Moffitt said.

  "Maybe we'd better blow while we can, Doc," Hitch said.

  "And miss the second act?" Moffitt nodded his head to the entrance where a second squad was lining up. "They don't have Troy and Tully. They only know they're there." He chuclded. "And it looks as if they haven't been idle."

  The second squad moved into the town.

  "They'll seal them off," Hitch said.

  "We may have a somewhat longer wait than we anticipated," Moffitt agreed. "Well, over the top with you. Pick up where you left off on the familiarization course. When you're satisfied everything is ship shape and ready to run, knock up a snooze. I'll awaken you if they come through tonight."

  "If?" Hitch asked pointedly.

  "A big if," Moffitt said.

  At five o'clock he stood beside the halftrack and shook Hitch gently by the shoulder.

  "Rise and shine, as you Yanks say," he whispered.

  "They're coming?" Hitch breathed, instantly alert, and scrambled behind the wheel.

  "Afraid not," Moffitt said. "We'd best take off. We've things to do."

  The darkness was no longer opaque but it was thick enough to screen them at a distance of twenty yards. They moved warily along the line of tanks until they reached the halftrack where they had dumped the bodies. Moffitt climbed up. The bodies were beginning to stiffen. The amused smile left his lips and he felt lines plowing across his forehead. This was a nasty bit. They couldn't each carry a corpse like a stick of firewood nor could they drag them and expect to escape undetected. Nor could they leave them here in the open end of the halftrack. He scooped Hitch's robe and burnoose from the truck bed and tossed them down to him.

  "Let me have that coat and helmet," he said. "Put these on again."

  Moffitt bundled the helmet, officer's cap and the clothing into the coat and dropped it to Hitch. Then he dragged the two corpses clad only in their long underwear to the side of the halftrack and slid them down. They remained erect. Moffitt jumped down.

  "Get over to the next tank," he told Hitch. "After the sentry has passed on his way to the wall, get the hatch opened. He's probably half asleep but easy does it. We'll get these chaps propped up alongside and ready to pop in." Hitch climbed over the protected treads and lay on the Panther alongside the turret. When the sentry had trudged by, he wrenched open the manholelike hatch with only a negligible rasp. Moffitt carted the bodies over like department store manikins, hoisted them up to the tread shelf and Hitch ran them head first down the hatch. The officer thumped on the floor and the enlisted man plopped on top of him. Hitch eased the cover down on the hatch, rolled off the treads and lay in the sand beside Moffitt.

  When the sentry had made his return round and was on his way to the wall again, Moffitt picked up the awkward bundle of clothing and Hitch slung the Mauser. They trotted out of the armored column and angled into the open desert, running as fast as their robes, the sand and their burdens would allow. The darkness threw a cloak about them but they dropped at one hundred yards. "There's going to be a stink," Hitch said.

  "I hope it's from the corpses," Moffitt said. "I hope they stink before they find them."

  When Moffitt judged the sentry had made his turn at the end of the line and was returning to the wall, they pushed back to their feet and waded through the tiresome sands in the last cold, dark moments before dawn to the top of the dune from which they had first viewed Sidi Abd. Hitch paused and half turned, his robes caught around him, looking as if he belonged to the desert with his Mauser slung carelessly over his shoulder.

  "All that's happened in the last few hours and all that's yet to come," he said contemplatively. "But you'd never find Sidi Abd if you didn't know it was there."

  Moffitt looked back. A tiny pinpoint of light marked the entrance to the town and half a dozen faint glimmers showed where the German headquarters building was.. Otherwise there was nothing in the world but the vast black of merging sky and desert. Sidi Abd might as well never have existed, except for Dietrich. He turned away and Hitch plowed down a rolling slope with him.

  "What do you suppose Dietrich did to Troy and Tully?" Hitch asked in a hushed voice. He glanced over his shoulder.

  "Nothing," Moffitt said, smiling. "He hasn't caught them yet."

  "How do you know that?" Hitch asked in a surprised tone.

  "The patrols didn't come back," Moffitt said.

  "I thought I saw lights off to the left, where you said their headquarters were," Hitch said and looked back again.

  "You did," Moffitt said.

  "Well, wouldn't that mean Dietrich had them there and was questioning them?" Hitch demanded. "Or had turned them over to his goons?"

  "It would not." Moffitt laughed enjoyably. "Those lights mean the Jerries still are looking. If they'd caught them, the Jerries all would be in bed."

  Now the dawn was on them in a haze of gray that turned the sands a purplish hue and they were solitary figures in an unreal world. Hitch grasped the rifle strap on his shoulder with his hands pulling the Mauser forward and half turned his head again.

  "Why do you keep looking back?" Moffitt asked, smiling. "You haven't been able to see Sidi Abd since we started down the slope from that first dime."

  "I know," Hitch said, stopping now and facing full about. "I think we're being followed."

  Moffitt whirled around and scanned the horizon. A faint pillar of dust seemed to be rising from beyond the dune that rose above Sidi Abd. He threw the bundle of clothing to the ground and plunged behind it. Hitch unslung the Mauser and, holding it low, dropped prone behind the unsubstantial bunker. The dust drew a stronger column in the sky and Moffitt saw five robed figures halt their horses on the dune.

  "Arabs," Hitch breathed.

  Moffitt stood, picked up the bundle and walked on. Hitch propped himself erect with the butt of his rifle and stumbled to Moffitt's side.

  "But if we'd stayed where we were and not moved, they might not have seen us," he said angrily,

  "See us?" Moffitt turned, bemused, to Hitch. "Up till now they've
been tracking us practically in the dark.

  Dawn was breaking dirtily in a squalid sky when Hauptmann Hans Dietrich collapsed in his padded chair, let his shoulders sag and humped on his elbows over his mahogany table. The acetylene lamps still burned but the light seemed to have gone out of them just as it had left Dietrich's eyes. Lieutenant Wilhelm Kummel sprawled, tunic unbuttoned and collar loosened, in an armchair behind the table with Dietrich but he was not relaxed, only wearied to the point he could no longer command his body. Master Sergeant Schmitt, pink cheeks mottled and eyes red-rimmed, stood at ease before the table while near the door Corporal Willi Hansteuffel stood at attention in the rigid, sculpted pose he had maintained for the past two hours, ever since the escape of the American Colonel Wilson had been discovered. Willi was the hapless guard who had been found sleeping in the doorway to the interrogation chamber.

  Dietrich unbent his arms, placed his palms on the edge of the table and pushed his body erect. He braced his shoulders and against the protests of his bones and muscles, assumed his normal appearance. Kummel straightened and put both feet on the floor. Schmitt brought his heels together and lined his thumbs on the seams of his trousers. Willi did not move or even take a breath.

  "Will someone tell me what is going on before I lose my sanity," Dietrich croaked, voice hoarse from shouting. "Do you want me to believe there are poltergeists in the building friendly to the enemy? How else could the prisoner have escaped except through the door? The window still is so securely barred we cannot budge it with a rifle butt from the inside. There is no tunnel leading from the second floor into the bazaar across the street, ja? No wall has been broken through into another room, nein? There is no secret trapdoor in the floor, hein? Darum, since this Wilson is a thing of flesh and not a spirit that can pass through solid objects, someone unlocked the door and out he walked, verstehen?"

  "It is the only logical answer, Hans." Kummel sighed helplessly and slipped a little in his chair. "But how could it have happened? The room was checked when Willi was caught sleeping at his post. The American was there, sleeping on the desk. You locked the door. You have the only key. Willi has been standing at attention in the doorway since that time. Your guard has been at his post outside your door where he can watch both the stairway and the hallway where Willi stood. No one could have entered that room."