A Clear Conscience

by AliasCWN

Dietrich and a childhood friend must make decisions that are not in keeping with orders from Berlin.

A Clear Conscience

By: AliasCWN

When the news of the convoys' arrival reached his office Capt. Hans Dietrich of the vaunted German Afrika Korps rushed out to meet it. Besides the long awaited supplies of food and petrol, the convoy was delivering a special visitor to the base. Captain Peter Wolfgang was a childhood friend whom Hans had not seen since his assignment to the African desert.

Capt. Dietrich stood stiffly on the porch of his office building and watched as the trucks rumbled past. Of the more than twenty trucks he had been told to expect, less than half had pulled into the compound. He could hear the sighs of relief as the drivers climbed down out of their seats.

With practiced eyes Hans studied the damage to the line of vehicles that had made it through. There were large caliber bullet holes in the sides of almost every truck. He groaned in frustration as he realized that most of those lost probably carried the fuel for his tanks and armored vehicles. Those carrying fuel had a tendency to explode when hit by the heavy slugs. At least the food and medical supplies hadn't been blown to smithereens.

The truck with the medical supplies, marked with a large X, seemed to have escaped untouched. Thankful for that blessing, he ordered the truck to drive directly to the hospital where the supplies would no doubt be needed immediately.

Searching among the survivors, he spotted the tall, blond figure from his childhood.

"Peter!"

The lean captain turned at the sound of his name being called. His face was streaked with dust and grime. The uniform he wore was wrinkled and wet from the desert heat. "Hans!" He hurriedly finished the conversation he had started with a truck driver and turned to his friend. The two men clapped each other on the back and each one gave the other an appraising look.

"You've lost weight Peter." Dietrich observed with a smile.

"As have you. And you can barely spare an ounce." Peter glanced around at the activity in the compound. "Is it always like this?"

Dietrich shook his head sadly. "Not always, but much more often than I like. Are you alright? You're not hurt?"

"No, no." His friend answered. "I remembered the advice you gave me in your letter. When the bullets started flying, I ducked down behind the windshield."

Hans nodded his approval, his eyes following the buzz of activity around him.

"Lt. Rhineholt can handle this. Come inside and you can tell me what happened." Dietrich led the way inside to his office where it was slightly cooler. He was fairly certain he knew what had happened but he still needed to file a report with headquarters.

"What happened? I'll tell you what happened!" Peter fumed. "It was that commando team you call the Rat Patrol. The one you told me about. Some of the men recognized their jeeps."

"Four men, two jeeps with 50 caliber machine guns mounted on the back?" Dietrich described the team in question.

"Yes, yes, that's the one! They appeared out of nowhere and attacked the convoy! It was like they were everywhere at once. Trucks were blowing apart everywhere." Peter turned to Hans with wild eyes. "It's like they were invincible. We couldn't hit them with all our fire power."

"I know. Infuriating isn't it?" Hans poured his friend a shot of brandy and handed him the glass. Taking a sip of his own, he continued. "They seem to lead charmed lives. When I first came here I met them. My men managed to actually kill one of them." Hans paused, lost in thought. "They replaced him with a British sargent. He made them even stronger, if that was possible. No one has been able to account for any of them since. They attack where and when they want. It has been a real challenge just getting supplies through."

Peter sipped his drink. "I heard that you have had more success than any other officer against them."

Hans nodded. "Yes but it is a constant struggle. They are very good soldiers."

"Perhaps between the two of us we can put an end to their reign. I have six weeks here to learn about desert warfare. Imagine my pleasure when I learned that I was being sent to you to get my experience." Peter saluted Dietrich with his glass and emptied the contents.

"If we don't get more fuel through, there may not be much combat to show you. My supplies are running very low." His eyes darkened with concern. "I'll give you about a week to acclimate to the heat before we go out on patrol. Until then, we can go over our defenses and talk strategy. I can tell you more about our arch nemesis, the Rat Patrol. I am losing patrols in one sector and I will need to investigate their disappearances."

"Probably that Rat Patrol." Wolfgang bitterly recalled the cries of the wounded and dying. "A patrol would have little defense against them."

"Perhaps." Hans conceded. "But we can't rule out the Arabs. Most of them are not to be trusted. They sell out to the highest bidder."

"I know. I was given a pouch of gold to pay them for information and for bribes. Maybe we could buy information on those commandos." Peters' face lit up at the thought.

"Not likely Peter." Hans quashed that idea. "They are just as likely to warn them as sell us information."

"I want them dead!"

Hans studied the face of his friend in the darkening room. "Peter. War is not like the game we played as children. There are no good guys and bad guys. It is not so black and white. I've found, my friend, that every day is a struggle to maintain my sanity. We were taught that German officers were men of honor. That is not always the case. We were told that the Allies were monsters and murderers. That is not true either. They are like us, soldiers who believe in their country and follow orders from men they do not even know." Hans went to the window and looked out at the decimated convoy. "When things like this happen, I struggle to hold onto that honor. Every day it seems more tempting to give in to despair, anger, or the desire for revenge. I fear that if I give in, I shall lose a small bit of myself each time."

"You are an honorable man Hans. I don't think that you have anything to fear." Peter tried to reassure his friend. "I can't think of anyone more honorable."

Dietrich smiled. "Thank you. I shall try to live up to your expectations." He shook himself unconsciously. "Shall we go find something to eat? We have a lot of catching up to do."

One week later…..

Hans and Peter stood in the back of the lead halftrack. The scout column was looking for yet another missing patrol. The two men were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of the hilly terrain. Peter took the field glasses and wiped the sweat from his eyes. Lifting the glasses, he scanned the desert for the missing cars. As he swung his gaze over the horizon he spotted a figure mounted on horseback watching them.

"Hans!" He pointed and handed the glasses to Capt. Dietrich.

Dietrich studied the figure who was slowly approaching his column. Not wishing to get lured into a trap among the dunes, he ordered the column to halt. Picking up the radio, he warned each ot his officers to be alert for trouble. No one spoke as the dirty looking Arab rode directly to the lead vehicle.

Hans moved to stand front and center to face the man. The rider noticed his move and altered his course to direct his attention to the tall officer. He began to speak in broken, badly pronounced German. Hans answered in the local Arabic dialect, hoping the man was local. The Arab smiled, showing black, broken teeth, and waved at the Germans to follow him.

Hans refused, demanding an explanation and more details. After a long conversation where the Arab did most of the talking, Hans motioned his column to follow.

"Where are we going Hans?" The other captain was nervous at the unexpected turn of events. "What did he say?"

Capt. Dietrich seemed thoughtful. "He wants to talk business. He claims he has two American soldiers for sale. If we're interested he will make us a good deal."

Peter looked astounded. "You aren't going to do it are you?"

Hans glanced around at his friend and smiled. "If I'm interested. They might have information we can use. Just stay alert Peter. I don't trust this Arab."

The Arab led the column to a small camp made up of about a dozen tents. Hans had most of the column hang back while he entered the camp.

The Arab dismounted near the center of the camp where two men were tied to a stake in the ground. Even without getting out of his vehicle, Dietrich could see that both prisoners had been severely beaten. He cocked his head to the side as he realized that there was something familiar about them. The Arab reached down and grabbed the hair of one of the men, lifting his face for Dietrich to see. Hans tried to hide his surprise. He recognized the battered face.

Another Arab came out of the first tent and approached the German officers. He pointed to the prisoners and began to bargain for a selling price. Reluctantly at first, Hans allowed the Arab to convince him to purchase the injured men. The German drove a hard bargain, not wanting the Arabs to realize how badly he wanted the prisoners. Finally the deal was made. Turning to Peter, he explained that the deal was done.

"I just bought them. I need to get some coins from my satchel." He bent to retrieve his satchel from the floor of the halftrack.

"I have some!" Peter called excitedly and pulled a purse from his shirt. Opening the pouch, he poured the money into his hand before Hans could stop him. "How much do you need?"

Dietrich stepped in front of him to block the view and covered his hand with his own. "Don't flash money around like that!"

Peter looked crestfallen.

Hans relented and helped himself to several coins. "This will do. Now put the rest away and stay close to me." He kept his voice low, glaring at the Arabs who were watching them closely. Peter nodded his understanding and pocketed the remaining coins.

The officers climbed down from the vehicle to finalize the deal. The Arabs took the coins greedily while eying the German officers. Dietrich called to some of his men to collect the new prisoners.

"Why did you buy them Hans?" Captain Wolfgang couldn't see any value in buying the injured men. They looked too young to be officers of any rank. He doubted that they would be of much use. It was unlikely that they would have any helpful information.

"These," Hans explained, "are half of that commando team we talked about." He held up his hand to stop Peter from saying the name. "I don't think our business partners realize who they caught."

Peter watched as Hans supervised the removal of his prisoners. Both men had been badly beaten and Peter wasn't sure they would even survive the ride back to the German base. It took repeated slaps across their faces to wake them. When they did open their eyes they appeared groggy and disoriented. They had to be virtually carried to the vehicle. Hans ordered them placed on the floor of the back of the halftrack. He wanted to get away from the camp as quickly as possible.

Hans knelt next to one of the men and offered him a tiny sip of water. He doubted that the Arabs had given them any since their capture. The prisoner blinked up at Dietrich in surprise.

"Dietrich?"

"We meet again Private." Hans allowed himself a small smile. The prisoner glanced around wildly until he spotted his friend on the other side of the vehicle. Their eyes met and a sort of communication passed between them. They seemed to come to a decision because the first one addressed Dietrich again.

"There's something you should know Captain."

"And what might that be Private? You do not usually volunteer information." Dietrich decided to humor the injured man.

The American shook his head, either to clear it or to deny that he was volunteering information, Hans didn't know which. "We can't do it." The prisoner whispered weakly.

"Do what exactly?" Exasperated at the word games and eager to get away, Dietrich growled at the wounded man. "Say what you mean and get it over with!"

"We can't leave anybody with those guys. It just isn't right."

Hans was about to turn away when he realized what the Private had said. "Are your sergeants here too?"

"No. Don't look Captain or they will know what we are talking about." The prisoner stopped to rest. "That blue and white tent in the back." He paused again. " They have four of your guys in there. They hid them in there just before you drove into the camp."

"Really Private, do you really expect us to believe that?" Peter cried in disbelief.

"Why would I lie about that Captain?"

"To get us to attack them. Maybe so you could escape during the commotion."

The prisoner laughed at Peter. " I like him Captain." He looked from Dietrich to Peter and smiled. "And just where do you think we would go?"

"Peter."

"You don't believe him do you Hans? Why would they tell us about this at all? They must have a reason."

Dietrich met the pain filled eyes of the prisoner. He noticed that the wounded man didn't flinch from the contact. He didn't look away as Dietrich stared at him. Hans made his decision and ordered his column to surround the camp. Telling them to wait for the order to fire, he addressed the Arabs. He gave them one minute to release their German captives before he gave the order to open fire. It was a very sullen Arab who entered the blue and white tent and herded four abused German soldiers out into the sunlight. They were picked up by the column as they stumbled into the open desert. With a warning about future problems, Dietrich took his column out of the area.

Hans glanced nervously behind them as they searched for a place to camp for the night. With the sun setting they could not make the base before full dark. Since they carried enough water, they wouldn't need to camp at one of the nearby oasis. Dietrich didn't want to camp where they would be expected. All they needed was a place to shelter from the cold night winds that raced across the open desert floor. They had stopped long enough to spread the wounded among the line of vehicles. Dietrich had kept one American in the lead vehicle and put the second one in the last halftrack in line. He didn't want a rescue to get to both men too easily. He had ordered a corpsman to treat all the wounded while they were on the move. He climbed into the lead vehicle only moments before they reached the spot they had chosen for a camp.

"Do you want me to look at the prisoner Captain?"

Dietrich looked down at the man sitting at his feet. "Of course Corporal. I told you to treat the wounded. He is wounded is he not?"

"I thought that perhaps you would want to save our medical supplies for our own men."

"I said all the wounded Corporal. You did treat the other one didn't you?"

The medic shook his head. "I looked at him but I did not treat him. I was waiting to find out if you wanted me to waste our supplies."

"Are you saying that he is dying?"

"No Sir, just that he is not one of ours."

"Treat them both." The captain told him in a cold voice.

"I will go back as soon as I finish with this one." The medic told Dietrich.

"No." The medic looked at his captain, confused. "We will be at our night camp in a mile or so. They have waited this long, they can wait until then. But I want them both treated as soon as we get there." The medic nodded. He reached into his bag and fingered a styrette of morphine. Looking down at the wounded American, he dropped the morphine back into his bag and sat against the side of the vehicle to wait for the halftrack to stop.

The enlisted men made short work of setting up the camp. A tent was erected for the two captains. The prisoners were tied to the frame of a halftrack and promptly ignored. The medic made his way among the German wounded handing out pain pills and morphine. Extra blankets were provided to ward off the chill of the night. When he had done everything possible for them, he made his way to the prisoners and then walked on past.

Captain Peter Wolfgang wandered around the camp making sure that everything was secure. He checked on the wounded and spoke encouraging words to any of the younger soldiers who seemed to be nervous. After a while his wandering took him past the prisoners. Curious, he paused to watch them. One appeared to be sleeping while the second one watched over him. The look of concern on the young mans' face surprised Peter although it fit the circumstances. He hadn't expected to see them as human. He was still trying to picture them as they had appeared when had attacked the convoy.

"Is something wrong Peter?"

Peter jumped as Hans spoke from directly behind him. He hadn't heard his friend approach. "No Hans. I was just wondering." Peter glanced at Hans briefly. He looked back as one prisoner groaned in his sleep and the other one spoke softly to him, unable to do any more. "Why did they tell us about our four men? They could have kept quiet and we would have never known."

Hans shrugged. "Perhaps the German people do not have the monopoly on honor and compassion. We might have never known, but it would have been on their conscience." Hans nodded to Peter and walked toward the prisoners. The red headed one was awake. Hans tried to remember his name. Pettigrew, that was it. "How are you feeling Private?"

The prisoner looked from Hans to Peter and back. He considered the question before he replied. "I'll live Captain."

"Is there anything you need?"

The prisoner hesitated before he glanced at his friend. "You could get Hitch a medic. His shoulder is dislocated and he needs it fixed. It won't use up any of your medical supplies." He hurried to explain. "He'd do a lot better without that extra pain."

Now that it had been brought to his attention he could see the odd bulge at the shoulder. With a bellow of rage, he called for the medic. When the corporal arrived Dietrich wasted no time chewing him out for his actions, or lack of action. With the two captains watching his every move, he tended to the injuries of the prisoners.

"I am sorry private. I thought you had both been treated. It won't happen again." He glared at the contrite medic. "I do have a question for you though. Something has been bothering me."

Tully Pettigrew watched the captain warily.

"What happened to your sergeants? Surely they didn't just leave you out on the desert all alone."

Tully glanced at Hitch who was still unconscious. When he looked back to Dietrich there was a lost look on his face. "We don't know Captain."

"How did you get caught?" When the prisoner looked like he was going to refuse to answer, Dietrich tried a different approach. "It's not a military secret. You were captured by civilians. It is not anything to do with the war."

The red head nodded. "We'd had a hard day. Sarge found us a place to camp for the night. We were all tired. Hitch took first watch. I bedded down next to the jeeps. Troy and Moffitt were on the other side of camp. Moffitt took over watch and Hitch bedded down next to me. We heard a shot and before we could get untangled from our blankets they were on us. Sarge and Moffitt were still fighting when they knocked me and Hitch out. We don't know what happened. We woke up in that camp tied to that post. They brought your guys in the next day."

"Did you see any more of my men?"

Tully nodded slowly. "Just after we woke up we saw them take seven or eight of them off into the desert. I don't know where they went, none of them came back."

"But they were alive?"

Tully nodded. "They were when they left." Tully was watching the medic finish treating Hitch. The blond was still unconscious.

The medic stood up and addressed his captain. "He will live my captain. The shoulder was very painful. Now perhaps he will wake up so you can question him also."

Dietrich stared at him coldly. "From now on you will treat the prisoners as well as our own. Do you understand?" The medic nodded and hurriedly took his leave, saying he had to check on his other patients.

Hans left too, returning to his tent. He paused as he passed the men cooking their meals. "Be sure to feed the prisoners the same food that you eat." He waited for the men to acknowledge his order before continuing on his way. He could feel the eyes of his men drilling into his back as he entered his tent.

When the cook delivered his meal, Hans sat down to eat it while it was still hot. Peter joined him and they ate their meal in silence. After he finished he set his plate aside to be picked up by his orderly.

"Hans."

Dietrich turned to Peter, not in the mood for any more arguments about the prisoners.

"Do you think that the private told you the truth about their sergents?"

"Yes." Hans answered without hesitation. "The sergeants may be wounded or dead. They may be hunting for us at this very minute." Peter looked up, startled. "I'm not saying they are Peter. I'm just saying that I believe he told the truth as he knew it. I don't think that they know what happened to their sergeants."

"They seem willing to answer questions. Perhaps we can get some useful information out of them after all."

Hans laughed without humor. "They answer only the questions that give nothing away. They won't answer any military questions. And they have proven time and time again that they won't easily be forced."

"Perhaps we could…"

A commotion outside interrupted the conversation. Hans stepped out of the tent to see that the disturbance was centered around the prisoners. With Peter following, he headed that way to investigate.

"What's going on here?"

"The prisoners are asking for you Captain." A lieutenant explained. "I tried to make them understand that you are not at their call Sir."

"They don't speak German Lieutenant. I will deal with this."

The lieutenant stepped back to allow the captain to speak to the prisoners.

"I am here Private. What seems to be the problem?"

"Dietrich?"

It was the blond prisoner who spoke.

"Yes Private?"

"They're following you." The voice was weak but full of conviction.

"Who? Who is following me?" Hans was confused and convinced that the young private was too.

"The Arabs. I saw dust behind us several times after we left their camp."

Dietrich couldn't stop himself from scanning the desert around them. "Are you sure?"

"They're out there."

"Peter, set up a wider perimeter. Double the guards. Tell everyone to be extra alert."

"Hans, surely you aren't going to just take the word of a prisoner?" Peter didn't move as Hans started issuing orders.

"Peter, they gain nothing by lying about this. And I doubt that they want to be recaptured after telling us about our four men. So yes, I am going to take their warning seriously. Double the guards."

Peter called to the lieutenant in charge of security and had him send out more sentries. Hans organized the inner defenses himself, placing his men in positions they could defend.

The night wore on and the guards became lax as nothing happened. Some of the newer men hinted that the captain had been fooled by the Americans. The guards were changed and the camp became quiet and still.

Dietrich lay awake in his bunk listening to the sounds of the desert night. Across the tent, Peter snored softly.

"Alarm! Alarm!"

The cry sent Hans rolling from his bunk. Remembering the prisoners words about not having time to untangle themselves from their blankets, Hans had stretched out fully clothed without blankets. As a precaution, he had kept his weapon next to his bed and his Luger under his pillow.

There was a flurry of shots as he left his tent. He dove to the ground, seeking a target. He glanced over in time to see a dark form raise his arm and bring it down toward one of the Americans. There was a shuffling of positions and the intruder raised his arm again. The knife in his hand glistened in the light of the moon. Hans fired hastily and was pleased to see the Arab drop motionless across the thrashing body of one of the prisoners.

Pre-warned, his men were in good positions to defend the camp. Losing the element of surprise, the attackers quickly lost their desire to fight. Those still able disappeared back into the bleakness of the desert. Sporadic firing marked the spots where wounded invaders fought to get away.

Dietrich picked himself up and tried to bring order to the chaos. Slowly, still affected by the sudden adrenaline rush, his men settled down and he was able to piece together what had transpired.

"Who shouted the alarm?"

"The American did Captain." The lieutenant was pointing at the blond American. Both prisoners were awake and watching the confusion that still reigned.

"How did you know Private?" Dietrich ask the blond.

The prisoner didn't answer.

"Private, it's not a military secret. I just wish to satisfy my own curiosity."

"I was awake. I heard them take out the guards."'

"You heard them?"

"I told you, I was awake. I knew they would come. They followed you." The prisoner shifted his body trying to find a comfortable position. "That's how they caught us. I wasn't eager to get captured by them again."

"I thank you. We may have been over run without your warning."

"Then maybe you could do something for us." Dietrich eyed the prisoner warily, not sure what to expect. The prisoner nodded toward the dead body draped across the other privates' legs. "Get that guy off Tully." There was a hint of humor in the blue eyes as Dietrich rushed to have the body moved.

"There is blood on this blade." Captain Wolfgang picked up the knife the Arab had dropped.

"He is probably the one who killed the sentries." The lieutenant remarked as he returned to the camp. "Their throats were cut." He looked down at the body with disgust. "Why would they attack a column of this size?"

"For the gold."

All eyes turned to Peter Wolfgang. "I let them see the coins I carry in my purse. They must have decided that it would be worth the risk. I am sorry Captain Dietrich."

"It's not your fault Captain. We all make mistakes. The trick is to survive and learn from them." He eyed his men. "Let's get some sleep. Tomorrow we return to base." With a reminder to sleep lightly, the Captain sent everyone back to their bedrolls.

"Hans."

"Yes Peter."

"The Americans. They saved us all."

"Yes Peter but they also saved themselves. As they pointed out, they don't want to be captured by the Arabs again."

"This war is very confusing." Peter sighed into his pillow.

Hans smiled in the dark at his friends' observation. He'd reached the same conclusion a long time ago. This time sleep didn't elude him and he welcomed it. The morning arrived much too soon. Always an early riser, Dietrich was one of the first to make an appearance in the camp. He quickly checked the guards and the perimeter. The dead Arabs from the night before still lay sprawled where they'd fallen. Only his own dead had been moved. He sadly collected the dog tags from the bodies so he could notify their loved ones of their sacrifice.

"Tully. Tully."

The sound of the younger of the prisoners calling to his friend broke the silence of the morning. Dietrich hurried over to check on them. The blond was straining to reach the red head, a look of concern on his face.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Tully won't wake up." The prisoner answered. Dietrich knelt next to the unconscious one and gently turned him onto his back. A small pool of blood under his shoulder was the only sign of any new injury. The captain called for the medic. A closer exam showed a small knife wound under his arm that they had missed in the dark the night before.

"I've called for a medic." Dietrich assured the blond.

"What for? He won't do anything." The blond kept his eyes on his friend. "If it was up to him he'd let Tully bleed to death."

"He will help Private." Dietrich promised. He wasn't surprise that the prisoner didn't look convinced.

The medic arrived and dressed the wound. The bleeding had stopped on it's own during the night. He gave the prisoner an antibiotic and a shot of morphine. Then, surprisingly gentle, he bound the arm to the patients' chest to keep it immobile.

"He won't need to be tied Captain. The shot will keep him unconscious until after we reach the base." The medic gave his captain a shy smile. He'd heard how the Americans had alerted the camp. It dawned on him that he may have been wrong in his indifference to their suffering. As a medic, he pledged to himself to do better.

"Then I suggest we get started." The column returned to their base with no further trouble.

"What happens now?" Peter stood next to Hans and watched as the prisoners were locked in their cell. Dietrich had decided to allow them to stay together so the one could care for the other. The doctors had examined both men and said that their injuries were not life threatening. The antibiotics had kept the fever to a minimum until their arrival at the base. Once there, the prisoner had been given a second dose and more morphine to keep him quiet.

The blond sat next to his buddy and gently bathed his face and chest with cool water. He kept up a steady stream of nonsense to calm his restless friend. Hans and Peter watched wordlessly from the end of the hall.

Realizing that Peter had ask a question, Hans shook himself. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I ask what will happen now."

"As soon as they are ready to travel I will sent them to a POW camp."

"But they're commandos." Peter reminded him with a bit of uncertainty. "Berlin has sent very specific orders concerning the treatment of all commandos."

"I know. They are to be exterminated immediately." Hans turned to face his friend. "Even the wounded and non-combatants."

"What can we do?" Captain Wolfgang was watching the prisoners with a frown on is face.

"We can send them to a POW camp. Field Marshal Rommel does not agree with the orders from Berlin. He believes that all soldiers should be treated as soldiers. They are not animals to be exterminated at our pleasure." Hans watched Peter as he spoke. "Remember that I told you that it is a struggle every day to hold on to my honor?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, some days are easier than others. Some decisions are easier than others."

Peter smiled as he realized what his friend was saying. "At least they won't be attacking your convoys anymore."

Hans laughed. "Perhaps. But I'll let you in on a little secret." Peter looked at his friend in anticipation of a deep, dark secret. "They've been sent to POW camps before. I've sent them to camps before. They have a rather nasty habit of reappearing after a short time."

Peter noticed that his childhood friend didn't seem to be too upset by the possibility. Hans offered to share his brandy so the two friends returned to his office. Two weeks later they stood side by side and watched a truck drive away taking the prisoners to a POW camp.

Three weeks later….

"It has been an experience I shall never forget Hans." Peter Wolfgang was packed and they were on their way to return to him to his own unit. Hans was taking a convoy out to the airstrip so Peter could catch his plane.

"Nor I Peter. These last few weeks have been rather pleasant."

"Do you think your Rat Patrol will return Hans?" The two men had discussed the possibility on several occasions over the last three weeks.

"As a matter of face Peter, I received a message from the commandant of the POW camp only this morning. I'd forgotten about it until you mentioned it."

Peter waited expectantly for Hans to continue.

"It seems our two prisoners escaped from the camp a few days ago. The commander suspects that they had outside help."

Peter raised his eyebrow in an unvoiced question.

"I don't know Peter. No one saw anyone else. Only time will tell. But all four of them are thought to have more lives than a cat. There are some who doubt that they can be killed."

Peter neatly chocked on his water as he took a drink from his canteen.

"Really." Dietrich reiterated. "They seem to survive and escape despite all odds."

"Please let me know if they show up again Hans. My curiosity has been aroused. Please promise you will write me."

Hans was scanning the desert ahead as he spoke to Peter.

"I don't think that will be necessary." Hans said softly, handing the glasses to Peter. He picked up their radio and warned his men to prepare for an attack.

Peter took the glasses and looked where Hans pointed. Two jeeps sat on top of a dune out of range of their guns. Their heavy 50 caliber machine guns clearly visible against the clear blue sky. As Peter watched, four men walked around the front of the vehicles and stood watching the convoy approach.

Hans tensed, waiting for some sort of trick. As the convoy pulled even with the jeeps, all four men came to attention and saluted. They held the salute until the lead halftrack passed. Once it was past they turned as one and climbed into their jeeps. Hans and Peter watched as they topped the dune and disappeared from sight.