The Desert Rats
By: AliasCWN
Captain Boggs pushed away the last of his reports and placed his pen in a cup he used for that purpose. His day had started two hours earlier than usual with a call from one of his units that had been attacked by a band of rogue Arabs. The Arabs had been driven off with only minor damage to the unit but the commander had wanted to report the incident right away. He had spent nearly an hour getting the details from the commander before he was sure he had it all.
Since he was already up he had decided to write up his own report while the details were still fresh in his mind. With that report finished and ready to send to headquarters he had looked at his watch and realized that there was no sense trying to go back to bed.
Now, after a full day of dealing with one problem after another he was more than ready to call it a day. He wanted a hot meal and he wanted to relax. He pushed his chair away from his desk and stretched aching muscles. His shoulders and back protested the movement after hours of sitting in the chair reading and writing reports. Getting to his feet he covered a yawn and thought about a hot meal in the mess hall. Having skipped the trip at lunch in favor of a dry sandwich delivered by his clerk, he was eagerly anticipating the hot mean and a chance to work the kinks out of stiff muscles.
As he passed his window on the way to his door a movement outside caught his attention. Two jeeps were moving slowly past the pedestrians on their way to his office. He watched as the drivers circled around and parked the jeeps facing the way they had come, a habit, for a quick getaway he realized. The jeeps were covered in dust, so much so that their true color was impossible to determine. A week and a half's worth of dust he realized. His recon team had been out for eleven days straight, doing their best to harass the enemy to the point where they were too distracted to offer the American base much trouble. Their efforts kept a lot of pressure off of his convoys and his regular patrols. They were very good at their job.
The four men climbed stiffly from the vehicles and paused to slap some of the sand from their uniforms. All four coughed as they breathed in some of the floating particles of the desert they had brought back with them. Even from cross the street he could see the tired slump of their shoulders. He knew from experience that their eyes would be bloodshot and red from the irritation of the dust and strain from the blinding glare of the sun off the sand. Constant vigilance kept them alive but it took a toll. From his office he imagined that he could hear the sighs as they allowed themselves to relax a bit.
As they moved toward his office he noticed a slight limp here and an arm held gingerly there. Not serious injuries, just more of the many they suffered while on patrol that they didn't deem worthy of mentioning in their reports. He didn't doubt for a minute that if they knew anyone was watching those injuries would be covered by sheer determination. None of the four men in that group would ever consider using those minor injuries to gain sympathy or get out of going on the next assignment. In fact, he was certain that they had covered more serious injuries on occasion in order to go out with their unit. They liked to stay together, to watch each other's backs. Sometimes he worried though. He worried that those little injuries would slow them down, not much, just a little. But when dodging bullets, knives, or just running for their lives, it wouldn't take much to make a difference. But he wouldn't say anything to them; they had their pride, and he trusted them to make the right decisions. They wouldn't risk a teammate, or a mission, for pride alone. Troy would never allow them to put the mission or themselves at serious risk by doing so, but he too overlooked the minor things. They were a dedicated team, both to the job and to each other.
He thought about his own highly anticipated supper. The four men headed his way hadn't truly relaxed for the last eleven days. They hadn't eaten a meal that they hadn't cooked for themselves in that long either. Unless it was a meal that had been eaten cold because it was too dangerous to have a fire, or they were too busy or exhausted to cook. They had eaten dust and endured the heat and cold without the benefit of a roof over their heads. They had penetrated deep into enemy territory where they were on their own, knowing that if they got into trouble there was no one coming to help them.
He had read their reports called in by radio; they had found plenty of trouble, as usual. This particular unit had a knack for stirring up a hornet's nest. They absolutely drove the Germans nuts! So much so, in fact, that the powers-that-be in Berlin had issued special orders concerning their treatment if they were captured. So far the officers they had encountered didn't seem inclined to carry out the orders but it didn't seem to bother Troy and his men that they existed. But it was another reason for him to worry every time he sent them out. They were his best team, he knew it, and the Germans knew it.
He heard the heavy clomp of boots climbing the stairs to the building. Slow, like it took an effort to lift the feet. Glancing back at the reports piled neatly on his desk; he hurried back and sat in his recently vacated chair. Scattering a few of the papers, he reached for a pen.
"Come in." He called as knock sounded on his door.
The door opened and Sergeant Troy led his men into the room.
"We'd like to make out report on our assignment Sir." Troy stated as the four of them saluted. Troy glanced at the reports scattered across the desk and looked over at Moffitt. "Sorry to bother you when you're busy sir, we can come back later if now is not a good time."
He looked at the four men standing in front of his desk. They were worn down until only grit kept them on their feet. If any of them carried even an ounce of fat on his body it certainly didn't show. There were dark circles under their red eyes that even the dust couldn't cover. As he suspected, the limp and the sore arm were not in evidence now that they were being watched.
He knew from similar occasions that they would be looking forward to relaxing. The first thing they would do would be to drop their jeeps at the motor pool for any needed repairs. They always took good care of their vehicles, their lives depended on them. Then they would head to their quarters and pick up clean clothing. A hot shower would be the next order of business. They would get in line but he knew that a lot of times when these men returned they had a 'desert crazy' look in their eyes that the more experienced men on the base recognized. A lot of the soldiers who knew them, either personally, or having seen them in action, would step aside when they saw that look. They would let Troy and his men go ahead of them. Not out of fear, out of respect. Most of the men on the base knew how much that team did to keep them as safe as possible. Occasionally he would get a complaint about how long they spent in the showers. Since water had to be hauled in there was a rule about keeping showers short but sometimes Troy and his men stayed in there longer. He didn't give them any trouble about it though; they needed it. He was well aware of how much ground in grime they had to remove, and he also knew what else they were trying to wash away.
They had a need to feel clean again after some of the missions. They didn't kill needlessly, but their job often required that they kill, up close and personal. They got to see the light fade from their victim's eyes. They killed to complete the assignment, or to survive, but he knew that none of them enjoyed that part of the job. He was not about to begrudge them longer showers if it made them feel better about what they had been forced to do.
Then they would head for the mess hall and eat. Tomorrow they probably wouldn't be able to tell you what they ate, but they would feed their bodies. After a hard mission he had seen them chewing their food with blank stares, their eyes glazed with fatigue. They wouldn't even talk among themselves, too tired to carry on any conversation.
The next stop would be their quarters where they hoped they could fall into their beds and sleep for ten or twelve hours without stirring. He always tried to give them that time to recharge before he sent them out again. It wasn't always possible, but he tried.
It wasn't always like that though. The shorter missions didn't usually leave them dragging as they reported in after they got back. But he could see it in their postures; this had been a long, hard mission for them. If they had been lesser men they would have collapsed into the chairs in front of his desk rather than standing by the door asking if he was too busy to see them.
"Come in Sergeant, what do you need?" He looked pointedly at the papers on his desk. "So what do you have to report that can't wait until tomorrow?"
"Nothing really Sir." Troy began. "We just thought that you might want to get our report right away."
"Any immediate threats? Anything I need to take care of right away?"
"No sir."
"Good, then get out of my office. I should have time to hear your full report sometime tomorrow afternoon. Until them Sergeant, you and your men are dismissed."
The four men saluted and shuffled out the door into the hall, pulling the door shut behind them. He heard their heavy steps as they returned to the street. He went to the window and watched them walk to their jeeps. They would take care of their vehicles and then themselves. Tomorrow afternoon after they had rested they would return to his office to give their reports in triplicate. Then they would prepare themselves to go back out again. They were professionals, and so was he. He would keep their public relationship professional. He would worry about them in private. But he would keep reminding himself, they were good at their jobs, so maybe he didn't have to worry too much.
They slid into their jeeps like old men, slow and stiff. Again he imagined the sighs as they sat down. He could almost hear Troy telling them that it was finally time to relax. As if he had read their minds he saw the others smile at Troy and nod. Both drivers started their jeeps and they made their way slowly past the people on the street toward the motor pool.
He sat back down at his desk and pulled out some papers. He would give them time to shower and eat before he went to the mess hall himself. He didn't want them to know that he hadn't been busy when they arrived. Let them think that he had delayed their reports for his benefit, not theirs. He gave himself another hour of work before he quit for the day. As he walked to the mess hall he smiled to himself as he pictured the four of them sound asleep in their quarters.