No ambush awaited the seven men as the exited the canyon, guns at the ready. They drove quickly, expecting at any moment to hear gunfire but none came. It was with relief that they cleared the open ground and entered the cover of rocks and sand dunes to the west of the canyon. Pulling to a halt under a copse of joshua trees the men assessed their situation.
"The half-tracks left quite an easy trail to follow," Moffit said pointing to the scores in the earth made by the big vehicles. "We could potentially follow them all the way to the Arab camp."
"And possibly straight into an ambush," Troy said, his voice grim.
"Do we have another choice, Sarge?" Hitch asked, blowing a bubble with his, ever present gum then popping it loudly with his teeth.
Troy shook his head, "I guess not," he glanced at Dietrich who was staring resolutely before him.
"Alright, follow the tracks it is then. But carefully. Moffit, you and Tully hang back, if we get into any trouble you come in with guns blazing."
Moffit nodded, "Be careful, Troy."
"You too," Troy pumped his fist in the air, "Shake it!" He shouted as the jeeps took off down the trail left by the Arabs in their stolen vehicles.
It was nearly noon by the time the patrol reached the end of the trail. It led to a large wash that offered cover from two sides big enough to hide the trucks and several tents from view. Unless you were looking for them you would never see them.
Troy and Dietrich left the jeeps and crawled on hands and knees up the side of a sand dune to get a good view of the camp below them. Using binoculars the men were able to assess the military strength of the band. They mostly had small arms, several rifles, none automatic, and the vehichles stolen form the germans the day previous.
"Look there, Sergeant," Dietrich pointed to the center of the camp where, tied to poles, stood five of his missing six men. They noticed with consternation that at least two of the men appeared to be either unconcious or dead the way they hung limply from their bonds.
"Who's missing?" Troy asked in a sharp whisper. "That will be your traitor."
Dietrich spied through his lenses again for a moment then looked at the american, "Private Krueger," He said at length. "I don't see what he had to gain by giving our position away to the arabs..." he trailed off, his thoughts darkening towards the man he had once commanded.
Troy shrugged, "Maybe he thought this was a way out of the war...somehow..." He sounded unconvinced of his own argument.
"At least Tannen is alive," The relief was evident in Dietrich's voice as he used the glasses again, focusing on his friend.
"That's good," Troy scanned the camp, looking for the watchers he knew would be in place at strategic points around the camp. "Look there," he pointed to the silhouette barely visible behind a rock in the harsh light of noonday. "Ten o'clock," he gave the position of the man to his temporary ally.
"And another at three," Dietrich nodded towards their right at a bush concealing a man.
"The two are all I see," Troy lowered his binoculars, "You see any more look-outs?"
A sudden shout and spatter of gunfire from behind the men cut off Dietrich's reply. Troy realized with horror that his men and Dietrich's had been discovered by the arabs. "Come on!" He shouted needlessly at the captain who was already heading at breakneck speed down the dune. The two leaders reached the desert floor at the same time and sprinted around the boulder hiding their friends from their view. They drew up at the sight that met them. Tully lay, blood staining his shirt, on the ground beside his jeep. Dietrich's two men were a little further away, face down in the sand. Hitch was slumped forward in his seat, his red kepi knocked onto the ground. Sergeant Moffit stood, held fast by two men in bedouin attire, his face contorted with pain as his arm was wrenched behind him harshly.
One of the bedouins spoke in a gravelly voice to Moffit who in turn translated to Troy and Dietrich. "He says to drop your guns!" The englishman's voice was tinged with a despairing tone.
Troy hesitated, two of his men lay...dead? wounded? He couldn't be sure but he knew that he would be no help to them if he got himself killed. But he wouldn't be much help to them if he was captured either.
Moffit yelped as the men tightened their grip on his arm, "They say they will kill you if you do not drop your guns!" He nearly shouted from the pain. "They say they will kill me now..."
Unwilling to see Moffit executed before his eyes, Troy let his gun slip from his fingers. Dietrich did the same. Instantly three bedouins decended on the, now unarmed men and tied them tightly with course ropes. Troy's eyes roved wildly between his three men as the arabs began dragging him towards the camp. "Moffit! Tell them...ask them if our men are alive! Ask if we can check! Moffit!"
Moffit spoke quickly in the arab's native tongue and was shoved nearly to his knees in response. Troy noticed Dietrich who's face was set as if made of stone. He looked neither to the right or to the left but stared straight ahead. Realizing that resistance was useless, Troy followed suit and allowed himself to be taken away from the scene of the attack. He walked blindly, seeing only his men...he knew that even were they alive they would be killed along with him and Ditrich's men. He felt a crushing weight upon his soul and a dark thought entered his brain, "So...this is how it ends."