The Helping Hand Raid

by Sgt. Moffitt

What was going through Tully's mind during that trek across the desert? "The David and Goliath Raid", Tully's POV.

A/N: No copyright infringement intended; this is a work of fiction not for profit. All dialogue in quotation marks is transcribed from the episode.

This is for D'Angelo's Song, who wanted to see another Rat Patrol story, and for DaughteroftheLord, who specifically wanted one of "The David and Goliath Raid", from Tully's point of view.

---

Racing across the desert, with Moffitt clinging to the gun turret of the fifty, Tully followed Troy and Hitch's jeep in pursuit of the motorcyclist.

Pretty small potatoes, this one. Just a motorcycle and one of those sissy sidecars. Funny thing, about the Krauts and their sidecars. You don't see Americans riding in such things...at least I haven't, except for the time we stole one at Kraut headquarters! That was the time we had to get proof of who that lousy Colonel Beckmann was, before Troy got court-martialed. Barely made it outta there alive, but we got what we needed, and Beckmann will have to stand his trial for war crimes.

Tully cast a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the professor was all right. Ever since Tully and the rest of the Rats had rescued Moffitt during a fake prisoner exchange...with Moffitt on crutches with a broken ankle, and feverish and confused from a head wound...well, he couldn't help but worry about the guy. But Moffitt seemed okay, easily keeping his balance in the bouncing jeep, goggles in place, hands gripping the fifty.

You gotta say one thing for these Brits...they've got pluck. I wish to God that America hadn't taken so long to get involved in this war, with France fallen and England with her back to the wall. Funny how I thought Doc was gonna be a liability at first...with that high-falutin' way of talking he has sometimes. But he's smart, and fast, and deadly when he has to be. I trust him with my life.

The jeep in front of him was barely visible in the swirling sand kicked up by the racing vehicles, but he could hear the steady rat-a-tat of Troy's fifty and the answering machine gun fire from the occupant of the motorcycle sidecar. Tully knew that Troy was not aiming to kill, but to capture the two Germans. A motorcycle alone in the desert usually meant a courier, carrying intelligence the Allies desperately needed.

And the Germans were putting up a stiff fight as they fled from the Rats, until the gunner collapsed in the sidecar, and the driver ran off the rough road, down a sand dune, and out of sight.

The two jeeps screeched to a halt at the point where the motorcycle left the road. Troy, Moffitt, and Hitch scrambled down the dune to where the fallen Germans lay, while Tully remained at the top of the dune, near the jeeps, to keep watch.

The sound of an engine hit his ears and he spotted a German staff car appearing at the crest of the next dune, far out of range of the Thompson he was holding, and even the fifty on his jeep, supposing he could have reached it in time. A man was standing in the car, looking through binoculars...Dietrich?

Then the engine noise intensified and three armored cars with gun turrets also appeared at the crest of the dune. As the group moved forward Tully opened fire with the Thompson, and then, recognizing the futility of the weapon, cast it aside and leapt for the fifty mounted on his jeep, even though he knew the range made the fifty useless as well.

Damn. We're sitting ducks here.

The next moment the world exploded as mortar fire from one of the armored cars struck the jeep.

"Tully!"

Tully found himself sitting ignominiously in the sand. He had lost his helmet and although he did not yet feel pain, he knew, somehow, that his arm was hurt.

Was that Sarge calling me? Everything's so muffled. What happened, anyway? There's Sarge...he's got a funny look on his face...

The world exploded again and Tully found himself tumbling down the sand dune. The next thing he knew, Moffitt was helping him to his feet, half-supporting him as Tully's knees seemed to have turned to limp spaghetti. Moffitt dragged him to a sheltered area of the dune, away from the wrecked motorcycle and the two fallen Germans.

Lying on his side on the sand, Tully was aware of Moffitt's recumbent form next to him, almost within touching distance.

I wonder where the other guys are. Everything's so fuzzy...

The unwelcome sound of Captain Dietrich's voice, amplified through a bullhorn, penetrated Tully's muffled hearing and he blinked dazedly.

"Sergeant Troy! You have no transportation, no water. You cannot possibly survive. I could come after you, Sergeant...but there's no sense in wasting time playing cat and mouse, is there? When the sun gets too hot for you, just follow this road. My base isn't very far from here. Come in, and give yourselves up."

There was silence for a time, then the sound of engines starting up, and eventually fading into the distance.

Tully could barely hear Hitch's incredulous voice. "Sounds like he's pulling out!"

Moffitt's voice. "Troy...must be these charts. Probably the only copies. He thinks if he came after us, we'd destroy them."

"Yeah...yeah. Well, we will...if we can't save 'em." Troy's voice was even more gruff than usual.

"Troy..." Hitch's voice again. "Looks like we bought it this time, huh?"

"Yeah...well, let's see if there's anything we can salvage. C'mon."

Several hands helped the dazed Tully to his feet and he stumbled up the dune with the others, toward the two jeeps, now smoking, twisted and useless after the German attack.

Tully sank down onto the sand next to his battered jeep, leaning wearily against the front wheel. He didn't move as Hitch carefully ripped the sleeve away from his injured arm.

Damn. Always seems to be that arm. Got shot there twice before, now it feels like it's on fire. That mortar blast must've burned it, bad.

Troy's voice. "Well, there's a little water left."

Hitch paused in his dressing of Tully's arm. "But that's not enough, is it?"

Troy's voice again. "Nope. It's a long way back to our lines, across empty desert. This won't get us far."

Somehow, Tully struggled out of his dazed state and found his voice. "If you run out of water in the desert, you're dead."

There was silence for a moment. Then...

"Troy!" Moffitt's voice. "How far can we make that water stretch? Look...this chart."

Troy's voice, surprised. "A water hole?"

Moffitt again. "Between our lines and here...about halfway."

Troy again, even more surprised. "It can't be! It doesn't show up on our charts."

Moffitt's tone was dry. "Perhaps the Arabs know something we don't. Troy...these are important. Now, do we destroy them and give ourselves up, or do we take the chance?"

A pause, then Troy's voice. "Why not?"

Tully found himself being hauled to his feet again, and the weary march began.

Tully's head was pounding, his mouth was as dry as the desert they were trudging through. He kept his eyes half-closed against the relentless glare of the sun, which shimmered on the sands and laid a burden of heat on the shoulders of the four men.

Lord, I think we've had it this time. It would be easy, so easy, just to drop in my tracks and let the guys go on without me. But I know these guys. They would never leave me behind. Just as I would never leave one of them behind.

One foot in front of the other, mile after weary mile...

Ma, you always told me not to complain. Count your blessings, you said, there's so much more to be grateful for than you realize.

Okay, I'm gonna count my blessings.

Thank you, Lord, for giving me and the young 'uns the mother and father that we have. Ma and Pa have worked hard all their lives, keeping their kids fed and teaching them the right way to go, helping out neighbors in need. I can only pray I live long enough to carry on their example.

And thank you for my cousins Leroy and Jesse. I know Pa was mad when he found out I was running 'shine with the boys...and did he ever give me a walloping! But they taught me everything I know about taking an engine apart and putting it back together again. Knowing that saved our lives more than once, out here in the desert.

Tully fell to his knees in the burning sand. His head drooped; was this the end? But no...several hands grasped him by the arms and hauled him to his feet.

He tried to tell them thanks, but his throat was too dry to make the words audible.

Thanks for letting me finish high school. Not many guys that I grew up with were able to do that. But Pa and Ma insisted, and I wanted my brothers and sisters to know it could be done.

Thanks for letting me grow up in the good old U.S. of A. I know we were poor enough, living in Appalachia, but the folks hereabouts have so little, and what little they have is being destroyed by war. And at least we had plenty of water...cool, clean water...

Water. They were all in desperate need of it, with aching heads and burning throats, and limbs like jelly. But Troy kept them together, and kept them moving through the unforgiving desert.

Thanks for letting me come overseas to fight, even when America was still sitting on the fence. I knew I had to come, and somehow I was led to the commando training camp, where I could learn what I needed to learn, to help the cause over here.

Thanks for giving me a CO like Troy. His ideas are a little crazy sometimes, but he always gets the job done. And he'd give his life for any of us, in a minute. I remember when he infiltrated Dietrich's camp in search of a blood donor for Moffitt...what a lot of nerve! But it all turned out right in the end, and a would-be deserter got restored to his unit, and got his own self-respect restored to him as well.

Then there was that time he was in the mine where the Jerry ammo dump was, setting all those detonators, and then the cave in happened...we all thought he'd had it. But even after the cave in, and there seemed no hope for him, he didn't give up, and finished the job. Somehow he and Dietrich were able to get out...Were we ever glad to hear that gunshot he fired to get our attention! And to see him safe outside the mine...that was a close one, for sure.

One foot in front of the other...the other guys were stumbling now, too...would they make it to this mythical water hole, or die trying? Tully's arm was throbbing now, in pace with the pounding in his head.

Eventually the four of them came to a halt and sank down onto the sand. Tully barely maintained consciousness as he struggled to hear Troy's voice.

"Do you think we've traveled ten miles yet?"

Moffitt's voice. "Maybe."

A brief moment of clarity seized Tully as he opened his eyes and realized he held a strip of rubber in his hands. Somehow it was very important that he make Troy understand, as he held up the piece of rubber for Troy to see...

"When I was a kid, I could knock the eye out of a quail at fifty paces with my slingshot." He stared at Troy unwaveringly, puzzled at the look of concern on the sergeant's face.

The same look was on Moffitt's face as he said, "Let's have some water. Have a drink."

Troy handed Moffitt the canteen. Moffitt sloshed the water inside for a bit, and then put the canteen to his lips. He then handed the canteen to Hitch, who did the same.

Troy took the canteen back from Hitch and gave it to Tully, helping him to raise it to his mouth.

"All right, Tully. Time for some water."

Tully received the canteen and drank from it eagerly. The few mouthfuls of warm water were not nearly enough to ease his thirst, though, and he lowered the empty canteen. The realization of what he had just done somehow got through the haze of his disorientation.

Oh, Lord. Those guys let me have all the water that was left. Forgive me...I didn't realize...

Troy pried the empty canteen from Tully's grasp and tossed it aside on the sand. He looked upward, once, at the blazing sun, and then gave a nod to Moffitt and Hitch as he helped Tully to his feet.

"Let's go."

The weary journey continued, and Tully's thoughts chased each other in his head.

Lord, I know I'm in bad shape, but those guys didn't have to give all the water to me. They're looking out for me, and I gotta do my best to keep up.

Gotta keep counting my blessings...

Thank you, Lord, for a good buddy like Hitch. Even though he's different from me, and his folks have money, we believe in the same things, and we're willing to fight for them.

He's got nine lives, for sure. Seems like he's always the unlucky guy, always getting wounded. It's like Jerry put a bull's-eye on Hitch's back. But he's a tough character, and he never gives up. That one time he got reassigned to ordnance duty with another outfit, and one of our own side shot him...thought he was a goner for sure, but he made it. We all made it. But will we make it this time?

Troy and Moffitt were conferring, mainly by gesture, not word. The little band of exhausted travellers then moved forward again, toward the crest of the next dune, dragging their feet through the sand.

Thanks for sending us the professor, after Cotter got killed. Cotter was a good guy, and we probably would've resented any replacement they sent us, let alone a Brit with a high-class upbringing. I know I wasn't very welcoming to Doc when he first came to us...I sure am sorry about that. Seemed like we couldn't communicate at first, but now he doesn't have to say a word...I know what he wants me to do. We make a pretty good team.

I remember when he disobeyed orders and went off by himself to try to find his father in that town...I hated letting him go by himself, but Doc said it wasn't any use having Troy mad at both of us. Sarge was mad, all right, but he didn't lose any time organizing a rescue operation for the two of them! We got both the Moffitts outta there. Don't think I've ever driven so fast...but it was another close call.

Stumbling, staggering, through the chilly night into the next morning, forcing themselves to stay somewhat upright, the Rats came to the final dune. Almost as one, they collapsed on the sand.

And this is a crazy one, Lord, but thanks for letting us know Captain Dietrich. I know he's the enemy, and he'll capture us if he can, but I don't think he would injure any of us unless he really had to. Sarge says he's an honorable soldier, and I guess that's the best way to describe the guy. That time that little girl fell in the well, he worked as hard as any of us to save her life. Not to mention the fact he was being attacked by his own side for honoring a truce with us. It wasn't the first time we've had a truce with him, either, and he always keeps his word.

Yeah, kinda wish he was on our side. Good men are hard to find in this war. But he's got his own axe to grind right now, and no way are we gonna let him have those charts. I hate to think of being captured, but if anybody's gonna take us prisoner, I guess Dietrich is the guy I'd choose...

Troy's voice. "Get up. Get up! Do you want to die out here?"

And then...

"Well?" Troy again. "You want me to drink it all myself? The water! The water..."

Tully struggled to his feet with the others and staggered down the other side of the dune, where a small oasis could be seen.

Water! Water, at last!

Tully fell to his knees beside the water hole and was about to plunge his face into it, when he was struck from the side by Moffitt in a flying tackle.

"No!" shouted Moffitt. "Don't drink!"

Tully sprawled in the sand, not understanding what had just happened.

Then Troy said, "What's wrong?"

Moffitt gestured, and the other three saw what had caught his attention just in time...the bodies of several dogs, lying bloated in the sun.

"The water's been poisoned," he gasped.

As if to punctuate this remark, a gunshot ricocheted on a nearby rock, and the four took cover. The action sent pain tearing through Tully's upper left arm, and the pain cleared some of the fog in his head.

As Tully sat with Moffitt and Hitch, leaning against the ruins of a small building and clutching his injured arm, Troy went to investigate the cause of the gunshot.

He returned shortly, and his voice was even more short. "It's Dietrich."

"How the devil did they get here?" was Hitch's bitter question.

"Same way we did," said Troy.

"Only they traveled more comfortably," added Moffitt. "They've watched us wearing ourselves out."

It was too much for Tully and he tried to get to his feet. "Water!"

Troy forced him back down. "Tully! Keep down - do you want to get your head blown off? It's no good, it's been poisoned."

Tully tried to make sense of what Troy was telling him, but the urgent need for water was paramount. "Gotta have some water," he said, choking the words out through his parched throat.

Then Dietrich's voice could be heard through the bullhorn.

"Sergeant Troy? Sergeant Troy, I wish to speak to you."

"Perhaps he wants to surrender," said Moffitt.

"I'll go ask him." Troy patted Tully's shoulder enouragingly and then left the other three.

He returned after a few moments. "Well, the man says we're at the end of our rope."

Moffitt's voice was exhausted. "The end of the rope is right. I can feel it."

"So can I," admitted Hitch. "I'm ready to cave in."

"If there was only some way we could surprise him...some way!" Troy's voice was desperate.

"With what? A pen knife?" Moffitt sounded defeated. "It's no use, Troy; it's the end of the line. No water...we're burning up. There is no possible way...no way out."

"Hold it!" Troy hissed. "Tully!"

Tully felt Troy shake him roughly and then tug at the strip of rubber securing the bandage to his injured arm.

"You got any more of this?" Troy asked him urgently.

Not comprehending, but wanting to help his CO, Tully reached into his back pocket and pulled out another strip of rubber. He watched the sergeant dazedly.

'Stay with me, Tully," Troy said, holding up a forked stick. "I'm gonna make you a slingshot." To Hitch he said, "Gimme your knife."

Now I get it. Wish my head wasn't pounding so much. But gotta help Sarge do this...

With his good hand, and Hitch's help,Tully removed his rawhide bootlace. "Here, use this...stretch it."

"Stretch this?" Troy and Moffitt swiftly constructed a crude slingshot with the stick, bootlace, and strip of rubber. Meanwhile, Tully laboriously sawed off the tongue of his boot with Hitch's knife, to be used as the pocket of the slingshot.

Moffitt and Troy affixed the pocket to the slingshot as Hitch laced up Tully's boot. Troy held up the weapon for Tully's approval and Tully nodded.

"All right. Let's go."

Tully scrambled up the dune behind Troy, desperately trying to clear his head for the task he needed to do.

Can I do it? I'm dizzy, and sick as a dog, my arm's on fire, and my head's pounding like a drum. 'Course I can do it.

The two men came to the top of the dune, away from most of Dietrich's group. Hiding behind some stunted bushes, they lay prone, surveying the scene and assessing the situation. A German staff car was visible within shooting distance, with a soldier sitting nearby, apparently eating his lunch.

"Gotta dig it in," Tully told Troy.

Troy took Tully's knife and gouged out a hole to place the shaft of the slingshot. After Tully determined that there were no suitable rocks nearby, Troy took out a bullet and handed it to him to use as a missile.

Tully put the bullet into the pocket, but it was no use trying to grasp the slingshot; his injured arm was just too weak. "You're going to have to help me hold it...my arm," he panted.

Troy helped steady the slingshot, but the target was impossible.

"No good!"

"What's the matter?" Troy whispered.

"I gotta hit him in the head...the helmet's in the way."

"Wait a minute..." Troy picked up Tully's knife and angled it so that the blade caught the rays of the sun, reflecting onto the unsuspecting German soldier.

Sure enough, the soldier turned his head, and seeing the target, Tully let fly. The soldier clutched his head and collapsed onto the sand. Seeing him fall, his companion, who had been resting in the car, jumped down to his assistance.

The two Americans moved swiftly, and Troy came up behind the second soldier and dispatched him with Tully's knife.

Tully yanked a canteen from the side of the car and drank thirstily. Troy pulled the canteen away and slaked his own thirst, then grabbed a German machine gun as Tully put his knife in its sheath. The two of them peered cautiously over the side of the staff car at the rest of Dietrich's group, but were spotted almost immediately by Dietrich, who sounded the alarm.

Troy opened fire with the machine gun, then yelled "Move it!" to Tully, who promptly put the car in gear and thundered down the slope toward the little oasis, where their friends waited.

Hitch and Moffitt clambered aboard amid mortar fire from the armored cars in Dietrich's group. Tully gunned the engine, taking them around the corner of a ruined building. Hitch took the wheel from the exhausted Tully while Moffitt and Troy lobbed a few grenades to slow down the pursuit of Dietrich's group.

Leaving the oasis far behind, and finally safe from the Germans, Hitch stopped the car. He took a grateful swig from the canteen while Moffitt fixed the bandage on Tully's arm.

"Easy on the water, Hitch," said Troy. "We're still not home."

"We will be, Sarge," said Hitch confidently. "A few miles more."

Moffitt finished tying off Tully's bandage. "Maybe we shouldn't go in."

"Why not?" asked Hitch. "We're all heroes. One look at those charts and we'll all get medals."

"Either that, or we'll all get shot," Moffitt told him. "After all, we lost a couple of jeeps."

"Well, I wouldn't worry about 'em," Troy said. "We could use a couple of new ones." He pulled a matchstick from Tully's shirt pocket and stuck it in Tully's mouth, then tousled the private's thatch of hair.

"All right. Let's go."

As Hitch started up the engine of the German staff car, Tully finally allowed himself to succumb to exhaustion and the effects of his injuries. He slumped in the corner of the back seat, with Moffitt's comforting presence beside him, and his other two friends in the front.

Lord, I didn't think we'd make it out of this one, but we did. Thanks for making us a team that works so well together and looks out for each other. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them, and I guess none of us would be here if it wasn't for that slingshot.

A slingshot against all that German firepower. Pa would be proud.