Chapter 10e: Settlement (Desert, Morning of the Third Day)
First light was a cold grey time. Today, Moffitt knew it was the truth. The gold that touched the mountains later, the samite slopes and imperial shadows, those were the lie. He saw them with no lift of the heart.
Two or three in the morning, wasn't that the traditional time for the dying to surrender their forces? He had lain awake for what seemed most of the night, though he expected no sign or emanation to mark one moment apart from the rest. No banshee's wail, no falling star, no voice crying in pentameter across the hills.
In the modern world heroes got no special notice. Only a grave in the sand, like all the dead.
A thousand years from now someone like himself would disturb those bones, and comment on the lack of grave goods. No buried car, with a couple of Nazi goons sacrificed beneath its wheels. No clay figure of Tully or Hitch to steer it. No frieze of battles won, columns of enemy winnowed by the 550's, nurses and nightclub singers obesiant at the hero's knee.
Would that future scientist read a forgotten text from corroded dog tags? Name and serial number seemed a paltry amulet for the journey to the West.
Troy hadn't expected or wanted more. He wouldn't regret unbuilt cenotaphs, but he'd hate giving Dietrich and the Nazis any victory.
Perhaps no-one would be looking for the shape of the past, a thousand years from now. They might be listening to the thousandth year of a shrill self-congratulary rant. Or perhaps wind alone would sift the sand over dry bones.
Moffitt knew himself dependent upon Dietrich, though he hated it. The Hauptman would come out of his tent eventually. He would show them Troy's body, or he would gloat, or he would claim the Sergeant still lived.
Proof would be the end of waiting. Doubt, a continuation. In so small a party certainty wouldn't take long.
He wondered if he should warn Tully and Hitch. There would be some confusion, once the Germans were careless or Dietrich stepped too close to his prisoners. The Americans knew how to take advantage of a lapse by their enemies though. They didn't need a warning, and they weren't his concern.
The routine of the encampment was familiar. All armies were the same, in some ways. One sentry relieved another. A soldier wandered past, yawning and scratching. Dietrich's batman carried a towel and a bowl of steaming water into his tent. Moffitt rubbed his chin, feeling two day's stubble. He should hate the waste of water but he was envious. He wanted to die clean-shaven.
Dietrich was not a lazy man. The sun was not high, and the sands still chill, when he brought Troy out to them.
Two goons carried the stretcher. They set it down on the cold sand. Dietrich dismissed them with a gesture.
"Bastard! You killed him!"
Tully was the one who shouted. Hitch stared as of he couldn't believe his eyes. They hadn't seen the hulk Ubaid's men had made. Certainly Troy looked like a corpse. His eyes were closed and his hands lax. The flesh that showed between bandages and contusions was as grey as watered milk.
He was breathing though.
The physical damage was largely superficial. Shock could have killed Troy, but it hadn't. Not yet. Here in the desert infection was certain, in spite of Dietrich's belated aid. Troy's prognosis was not much improved from the night before.
He'd lived. He was fighting. He'd faced down Death before. Moffitt thought he could do it again. Dietrich hadn't destroyed the Rat Patrol after all.
Moffitt watched the Hauptmann impassively, reclassifying the man from 'target' to 'obstacle'. They were going to survive, all four of them. They were going to escape. And they would make certain Hauptmann Dietrich did no more harm.
ooooooo
If the Sarge had looked any worse, he'd have had to be buried. The thing was, Moffitt didn't look shocked. He looked relieved. How bad had things been, the night before?
Well, Hitch could see some of it. Imagine more than he wanted.
"From today, you will work for your keep. You will be harnessed to the, the 'jeeps'. You will dig the latrines. Whatever is ordered, you will do."
Right now he really hated Hans Dietrich. Hated him so much, it was hard to listen to his voice.
"You're crazy," Hitch said.
Hans sneered at him, and looked to Moffitt.
"Doubtless you can explain to your companions that we return to a time of barbarians. Power is the strength of men and animals now. I do not intend my folk to be weak."
"Why do you think we'll help you?"
The Brit sounded just as cool as if he was back at Oxford or Cambridge or whatever, debating cricket teams.
"For water? Food? Your lives? Or because I have allies who can discourage your laziness?"
"You won't get much work from what they leave."
Moffitt's voice was as calm as before, but he'd paused a little longer before he spoke.
"Quite true," Dietrich said.
He paused, watching the three men. Moffitt made a noise as if he'd been punched. Tully swung around, thinking the Brit had been shot or something.
Dietrich smiled like a teacher pleased with a slow student.
"If you work, you will be given food and water. You may share them with one who does not share your labor. If you do not work . . . . Your commander is not so deeply unconscious that he can't be woken.
"I have no desire to lose this hold over you. I will instruct Ubaid's men that he should remain alive. Given his current condition though . . . ."
The Hauptmann let his voice trail away doubtfully.
"What are your commands?"
He couldn't believe Moffitt said that. He couldn't believe Moffitt said that.
Neither could Dietrich. His mouth was open to spew more threats, and it just hung there. He had to swallow before he spoke again.
"So . . . . You will not attack my men. You will not try to escape. You will not be idle. Werber will bring you food and water now. If you work hard, there will be more."
He looked at them again, waiting for . . . waiting for Moffitt to come to his senses? Waiting for things to make sense again? Finally he walked away.
He left the Sarge lying on the sand, with flies crawling on him.
"His last order was clear. We get out of here as soon as we see the chance."
"Sounds good to me. How do we get the Sarge out?" Hitch asked.
Silence answered.