Disclaimer: The Rat Patrol is not my property. They come out to play sometimes, then I send them home.

Author's note: For tullyfan, who just can't help herself coming up with new ideas for me. Thank you.

It's Not Kosher

By Suzie2b

The Rat Patrol arrived on the scene after picking up a distress call from a British convoy that had been attacked by a squad of Germans. The two jeeps immediately took over and had the Germans running the other way after taking out three of the five halftracks.

Troy, Moffitt, and Hitch were checking for survivors among the ruined vehicles. Tully was keeping watch from the back of a jeep when he saw one of the convoy's trucks break from the line and head towards them. He pointed and called, "Hey, sarge!"

Troy turned and watched the truck approach. When it stopped, a lieutenant in a British uniform got out of the passenger side and waited at the front of the truck for Troy.

Troy looked at Moffitt and with a nod signaled his fellow sergeant to follow. When they were standing in front of the officer, Troy said, "I'm Sergeant Troy. This is Sergeant Moffitt."

With an accent befitting an English gentleman the lieutenant said, "I'm Lieutenant Lewis Carr. We were on our way to the 56th Infantry Division with supplies when we were attacked."

Moffitt said, "I would think a division would need more than what you're carrying in ten trucks, lieutenant."

"This is just to tie them over until the airdrop, sergeant." Carr looked past them as Hitch checked for a pulse on another body. "Were there any survivors?"

Troy nodded. "A few. How did your men fair?"

The lieutenant sighed. "At least three dead and five wounded. I have a feeling it would've been much worse if you hadn't gotten here when you did."

"Do you have any medical supplies with you?"

"Yes, along with an ambulance and two medics."

Troy said, "All right, lieutenant, we'll bring in the wounded Germans."

After Lieutenant Carr headed back to his convoy, Troy and Moffitt returned to where Hitch was watching the wounded Germans. Troy asked, "How many did we end up with?"

Hitch said, "We started with five, but we're down to four now. Could be down to three any time."

"Okay, let's load 'em into the jeeps. The convoy has medics and supplies."

When the jeeps stopped in among the trucks, Lieutenant Carr told two of his men to help the wounded Germans over to the ambulance where the medics were working on the British wounded.

One of the two said, "I'd just as soon not, lieutenant."

Carr put his hands on his hips and growled, "I wasn't asking politely, Private Taylor. It was a direct order."

Taylor frowned. "Our wounded should be cared for first, sir."

A soldier with a medical red cross on his helmet stepped up. "We'll treat the wounded according to the severity of their injuries, Keith … just as we always do." As he began to do triage on the wounded Germans, he looked at Troy and his men and said, "I'm Corporal Eban Abrahamson."

"Sergeant Sam Troy."

Abrahamson nodded his acknowledgement. He examined each of the Germans, then said, "This one goes to the front. The other two can wait a bit."

Private Taylor pointed to the fourth and asked, "What about him?"

"I'm afraid he's dead. Let's get those still alive taken care of."

Moffitt helped the medics. Hitch and Tully helped fix the repairable trucks. Troy and Carr worked together to redistribute supplies. A burial detail took care of the dead, however only the British were buried. Troy and Moffitt took note of it, but didn't say anything to Lieutenant Carr.

#################

Upon Lieutenant Carr's request, Troy agreed it would be best to escort the convoy to their destination.

That evening when they stopped for the night, the lieutenant said with a tired sigh, "We were supposed to be at the 56th by now."

Troy said, "Well, we should be able to get you there tomorrow by noon, lieutenant."

"Thank you, sergeant. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do hate to be off routine. I need to see who's doing what."

"Yes, sir."

After Lieutenant Carr had walked away, Moffitt said, "I'm going to take Tully to help with the wounded. Neither of the medics speak German."

Troy nodded. "I'm going to let Carr take care of the perimeter tonight. We'll guard the prisoners."

"They're wounded, Troy. I doubt they'll try an escape."

"I don't want to take any chances."

The sun was going down when Corporal Abrahamson asked his counterpart, "Can you handle things for a few minutes, Archie?"

Corporal Barnett nodded, "Sure, Eban, go ahead."

Corporal Abrahamson walked out just beyond the trucks. He faced the sun as it disappeared on the horizon.

After Tully got a couple of lanterns lit, he set them inside the truck the wounded were in and noticed Abrahamson. "What's he doing?"

Barnett replied with a smile, "Evening prayers."

Moffitt smiled slightly. "He's Jewish then?"

"Very."

Tully asked, "How'd he get into the British army?"

Barnett said, "His parents moved from Germany to England before he was even a twinkle in their eyes. He was reared as Jewish and he's a Brit through and through."

One of the wounded Germans awoke as the allies quietly spoke to each other. He was near the back and turned his head to look outside. When he saw Abrahamson praying, he frowned angrily, but said nothing and feigned sleep.

A few minutes later Corporal Abrahamson returned to the truck and climbed inside. "Did I miss anything?"

Moffitt said, "Not a thing. Everyone's either unconscious or asleep, so all's been quiet."

"Good." Abrahamson moved over to one of the Germans and knelt.

As he started to check the bandage, the German pushed him away and spat, "Jüdische Laus! Berühren Sie mich nicht!"

Tully moved quickly to grab the German's arms as he tried to sit up and told him to shut up. "Schließen Sie Ihren Mund!"

Barnett helped Abrahamson to his feet as Eban asked, "What was that all about?"

Moffitt said, "Suffice it to say that he realizes you're Jewish and would rather you not touch him."

Abrahamson huffed, "Well, all right then. Archie, it appears his outburst has opened that wound in his shoulder. Would you mind terribly…"

Barnett nodded. "Of course, Eban. If Private Pettigrew will just continue to hold him, I'll take care of it."

Tully shifted the matchstick in his mouth. "I've got him, doc. Go ahead."

The other three Germans in the truck were now awake and glaring at Corporal Abrahamson. He looked at Moffitt and said, "I suppose it might be best if I leave the Germans to you and Archie."

Moffitt smiled slightly. "I suppose you're right."

##################

Around midmorning the next day the convoy came to halt. There appeared to be a problem in the medical truck where the wounded were.

When the jeeps rolled up onto the scene after seeing the convoy stop and Lieutenant Carr running towards one of the trucks, they saw that two of the Germans were struggling with several of the wounded British soldiers. Carr was shouting at them to break it up, but they weren't listening, and Abrahamson and Barnett were trying their best to pull the men apart. Space was tight so there was no way anyone else could get in to help.

Troy took his sidearm from its holster on his hip and fired two rounds into the air. That got everyone's attention and the fight ended. Troy asked loudly, "What the heck's going on?"

Lieutenant Carr said, "I was just about to ask that very thing, sergeant Troy!"

One of the wounded British soldiers pointed at one of the Germans and said, "That bloody Kraut tried to kill Corporal Abrahamson, lieutenant! Alastair and Hugh managed to grab him before he could stab the corporal! I would've helped, but with this shot up leg…"

"All right, private. Corporal Abrahamson, front and center!"

As Eban hopped out of the truck, Moffitt said, "I'll give Corporal Barnett a hand."

Troy nodded. "Hitch, Tully, keep an eye on our prisoners."

With Eban in front of him, Lieutenant Carr asked, "What's your story, corporal?"

Abrahamson said, "A wound in one of the Germans is showing signs of infection. I had a surgical kit out so I could open and drain the wound. The next thing I know Private Evans was shouting a warning. Apparently the German laying behind me, whom I thought was asleep, had appropriated the scalpel from the kit and was about to have a go at me, sir."

"All right, I've had enough of this foolishness. Tie the prisoners up."

"With all due respect, lieutenant, that's not a good idea."

Carr asked, "Oh? Explain."

Abrahamson said, "All of them have wounds to their torso and/or shoulder areas. To tie them with their arms behind them would only continue to aggravate the wounds further."

"You were just attacked by one of them, corporal. Why the devil would you care if their wounds are aggravated?"

"Regardless of whether they can speak English or they don't like me because I'm Jewish, they are still human beings. I am a doctor first before anything else, Lieutenant Carr."

Troy said, "I have a suggestion, lieutenant."

Carr gave a nod. "And that is?"

"We move the Germans to one of the other trucks with one medic and a couple of your men as guards."

"After losing two trucks in the attack, things are a tight fit as it is, Sergeant Troy, and I don't have any men to spare to act as guards."

Troy sighed. "How 'bout I give you one of my men to act as a guard then? We're only a couple of hours from the 56th and we haven't seen anything to worry about so far today."

Carr looked from Troy to Abrahamson and back again, then said, "All right. We'll make room in the truck in front of this one. I'll get some men to move the prisoners."

"Thank you, sir." As Carr walked away, Troy turned to Abrahamson and asked, "So, you're really a doctor? Not just a medic."

Abrahamson smiled as he nodded. "I had a practice in England before I was drafted. The army wanted me to work at a base or field hospital, but I realized the wounded need care as quickly as possible … good care. The medics aren't trained doctors, sergeant. Most of them, like Corporal Barnett, are good at what they do, but they don't know the techniques of a doctor or surgeon. So, I decided that I'd be of more use as a field medic."

Once the three prisoners were moved, Troy had Moffitt and Barnett ride with them.

As the trucks moved on for the last leg of their trip, Moffitt asked, "Corporal Abrahamson is quite dedicated to his profession, isn't he?"

Barnett sat next to him and said, "Yes, he is. I dare say, I've learned a lot from him since we've worked together … and some about him as well."

"I imagine, out here anyway, he's had some trouble treating prisoners if they find out he's German."

"Actually, the majority of the German prisoners we've encountered haven't really paid him any notice on that regard. Eban doesn't hide his religion, but he doesn't flaunt it either." Barnett thought for a moment, then said, "I have seen him have problems with our own people though—the Allies in general. Some just don't understand why he can be a British citizen when he's actually of German descent."

Moffitt nodded. "Especially with this war on."

"Yes, I've seen wounded refuse to allow his hands on them if they happen to find out. Eban told me once that his parents refused to allow him to learn the German language. They had learned English before he was born and spoke nothing else as he grew up. According to Eban they never talk about the 'old country'."

"It's a shame really."

Barnett said, "After all, he was born and reared in England. He's never even been to Germany. I swear, Eban can speak better Queen's English than just about anyone I know back home."

Barnett moved to check on one of the Germans who was groaning pathetically. The one lying next to him looked at the corporal and glowered as he asked, "Sind Sie jüdisch?"

Barnett glanced at the man, then went back to work on the one in obvious pain. "What did he say?"

Moffitt said, "He wants to know if you're Jewish."

Barnett gave a little chuckle and looked at the German with haughtiness befitting any good Englishman. "I'm Christian, my good man."

Moffitt relayed the answer and the prisoner settled back down on his blanket, but continued to watch the medic suspiciously.

##################

True to his word, Troy, his men, and the convoy reached the 56th Infantry Division at noon … well, give or take a few minutes.

A Captain Clarke saw them as they drove through the gate and met them when they stopped. Lieutenant Carr slid out of the passenger seat and saluted as the captain said, "You're late, lieutenant. We expected you to be here yesterday."

Carr said, "I am sorry, sir, but we had a bit of a dustup with some Germans."

Clarke saw the two jeeps and their occupants pull to a stop. "I see you had a bit of help. Casualties?"

"Three dead, five wounded, but it probably would've been worse if Sergeant Troy and his unit hadn't heard our call for help."

Under Corporal Abrahamson's direction the first, and most seriously wounded, were loaded into the ambulance that had arrived with the convoy. Captain Clarke noticed that one of those wore a German uniform. "You have prisoners?"

Lieutenant Carr nodded. "Exactly three, sir."

They watched as another ambulance arrived and two more patients were transferred to it. The rest were considered "walking wounded" and would either get to medical under their own power or be aided by the many soldiers who were rallying to help.

Captain Clarke gave a nod. "Right, I'll send MPs to watch over our guests. I'll inform Maj. General Davies that you've made it and that you will report to him as soon as you've finished your duties."

##################

That evening in the mess tent Corporal Barnett walked up and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

Moffitt smiled. "Be our guest, corporal."

As Barnett sat down with his tray, Troy asked, "Where's Corporal Abrahamson?"

Barnett said, "I imagine he's just finishing up with his evening prayers. He was bit miffed with himself because he missed afternoon prayers today."

Hitch asked, "How many times a day does he pray?"

"Three. At daybreak, midday, and sunset. Every now and then things get a little busy and he has to miss one … but under the circumstances I think God gives him a break."

Moffitt smiled. "I would certainly hope so."

Just then they saw Corporal Abrahamson walk in. He went through the line for his meal and joined Barnett and the others.

Barnett asked, "Everything all right, Eban?"

Abrahamson nodded. "All is right again. If I ever have to tell my mother how many times I've missed prayers, her poor heart will probably fail her."

"I keep telling you, Eban, I believe she'll forgive you just as God does."

"And I keep telling you, Archie, that you don't know my mother as I do." Abrahamson examined the food on his tray. "Not to mention the fit she'd have if she knew I wasn't eating kosher."

Tully asked, "What's kosher?"

Abrahamson smiled as he said, "To explain it would be a complicated process for anyone who doesn't understand the Jewish faith…"

Barnett said, "He's tried more than once to explain it to me, but most of it goes right over my head."

"As I said before, you're not Jewish, therefore I don't expect you to understand." Abrahamson picked up a salt shaker and said, "Take this salt for example … this is common table salt. If it were kosher salt, it would not have the addition of iodine."

Tully thought for a moment, then said, "So kosher food is food that doesn't have any added ingredients."

Abrahamson sprinkled salt on the mystery meat and potatoes on his tray. "It is much more than that, but that is a good explanation."

"So, what happens if you don't eat kosher?"

"According to my mother I will not be allowed into heaven. But I believe there are circumstances where God will overlook certain things."

Tully smiled. "Like not really knowing what the heck we're eating at times?"

Everyone chuckled and Abrahamson said, "Precisely. I cannot expect the food I get here to be made kosher for me, any more than being expected to starve because it isn't. Unless you're my mother. She would expect me to starve."

Hitch grinned. "So you lie to your mother by not telling her you're eating kosher?"

Abrahamson pointed his fork at the private. "I never lie to my mother. I simply don't elaborate the facts. It keeps her from worrying too much."

"Maybe I should try that with my folks. I'm always afraid I'm telling them too much or not enough."

Abrahamson laughed, "My boy, that just wouldn't be kosher."

Hitch looked confused. "Wait … what?"

"American mothers, English mothers, Jewish mothers, all mothers … they're alike for the most part. No matter what I tell my mum, she knows I'm not giving her everything. I've been doing this all my life. For you to, out of the blue, suddenly start changing up what you tell your mother and the way you say it, would have her worrying more than she probably already does. It's a fine line to walk and you have be very careful of the additives."