Chapter Two
The sun, aflame in deep shades, was rising but Moffitt had just drifted off to sleep. All night he had sat up with Wilhelmina as she stirred feverishly and fought him with all her strength. An hour ago he'd glanced gratefully over at Troy, who was nodding off. Without Troy he couldn't have endured last night. Even shared, the weight was crushing. But alone...The thought drifted from Moffitt's mind as his eyes slowly closed.
Hitchcock was sitting up against the grill of the lone jeep, watching the sun spill its light over the dismal rubble of Citi Kamal, like blood pouring out. The town was soaked in a ghastly scarlet hue, shadows drew lines, and dust played in the rays of the huge red ball that peeked over the horizon so slowly. Warmth was returning to Hitch's nose. Watching the morning roll in was something Mark Hitchcock had always enjoyed doing, in Boston or in Africa. Something he'd only recently found an appreciation for were maps and coffee - black as night, like they'd made at home. Coffee reminded him of Maryanne and Maryanne was gone forever...so he tried not to think of her.
"Morning Mark," drawled Tully, slipping up beside him. His sleep-bleary eyes looked out at the city. He sighed and locked his hands behind his head.
"Good Morning." replied Hitchcock, nodding at his friend. "You sleep well?"
"Well enough." Tully shrugged. He pointed to the toddler who was still asleep, curled up under Tully's blanket between the sergeants. "I was afraid I'd smoosh her all night."
Hitch chuckled and regarded the sun, now well over a sandy hill and freely throwing golden rods out onto the sand.
"How are we going to get any place with just this jeep?"
Tully glanced behind him and patted the hood fondly. "Troy'll figure something out."
"You seem awfully sure." Hitch said, but only in way of conversation. He never doubted Troy.
"He always does. If he doesn't, Moffitt will."
"Between Troy and 'Doc', we'll never do any thinking of our own, will we?" Hitchcock laughed lightly.
"As opposed to you being in charge. In which case I'd do all our thinkin'." Tully said lazily. He ducked a playful punch.
By this time, the sun was burning at Hitch's skin. How quickly it had risen. The shadows on Citi Kamal were gone now. The entire place lay in charred sorrow; It was simply a massive burial plot, beaten by the blazing sun once more. A scraggly tree swayed with the stifling hot breeze.
"Should we wake them?" asked Hitchcock.
Tully shrugged. "Probably."
While Hitchcock woke the sergeants, Tully lit a fire, heated some water for coffee, and fished some hard biscuits out of the rations pack. He began musing over Franka, perplexed. How were they going to feed that kid?
He dug out a bowl and filled it with lukewarm water. He tore a biscuit in chunks and dropped it into the water. Then he left it in the sun on the jeep hood.
Moffitt began to stir.
"Coffee..." he muttered wearily, and presently took a steamy tin cup and sipped at it.
Troy snatched his cup from Tully and downed it like a shot of whiskey. Then he poured a second cup and drank this one slowly. "Thanks."
Franka had rolled over and was making cooing noises, which grew louder and louder. "Somebody get her before she wakes up her mother." Surely Lewis said, sitting up and flinching as he moved his leg.
Tully went to the baby, picked her up with one arm and handed Lewis a steaming cup of coffee with his other. He smiled down at the girl, but Franka started squealing.
"She's probably hungry, Tully." Moffitt said in a very exasperated tone.
Nodding, Pettigrew took the tin bowl from the hood and took a mushy lump of warm biscuit between his forefinger and thumb. He popped it in Franka's mouth. The girl looked curiously at him, gummed the doughy mouthful then took it out of her mouth with a chubby hand. Staring judgmentally for a long moment at both Tully and the morsel, she finally thrust it back in and chewed it. He smiled a rare, toothy grin at the others.
"Good. Now she'll be quiet." grunted Troy, but he returned Tully's smile.
The woman stirred as Moffitt sat down beside her and took her pulse. She murmured deliriously in German about Hans, Franka, and Captain Monroe. Finally her eyes opened. They were an intoxicating shade of blue with flicks of near purple. Helplessly, Moffitt stared into them.
"Where am I?" she mumbled.
"The ruin of Citi Kamal." Moffitt answered, before he could think. She was beautiful.
"What happened?" she blinked her lovely eyes. Suddenly she grimaced at the memory. "Oh, oh, the cellar, Franka...Franka!"
She tried to sit up but Moffitt gently pressed her down. "Shh... take it easy, take it easy, she's safe."
"She-"
"She wasn't harmed." he reassured. He held her slender hand in his own. "You speak English very well."
"Hans taught me." she said distractedly, wincing against the pain. "I've been hurt?"
"A piece of wood was lodged in your shoulder." Moffitt explained, pulling her tattered shirt away from the wound. "But you're already healing very nicely."
She groaned feebly, relaxing. "I'm so tired."
Moffitt nodded understandingly and slowly released her hand. "You should rest."
"Who are you?"
"Jack Moffitt, Sergeant."
"American?" she asked, trying to smile.
Shaking his curly head, he denied, "No, no, I'm English."
"An Englishman?"
"Yes. My friends are American, however." Moffitt waved an introducing hand at Troy and the others. She craned around to look, but he chided softly, "Easy, Missus-"
"My name is Wilhelmina." she answered quietly.
Moffitt nodded. "Yes, so I've been told."
Troy strode over with a canteen.
"Here, drink up." he told her, his slouch hat perched precariously on the side of his head. He held the canteen to her lips, and while she greedily gulped the lukewarm water, he said, "I'm Sam Troy, Sergeant, United States Army."
She smiled, pushing the canteen away.
"We can't promise anything ma'am," Troy said, screwing the lid back on, "but if you can tell us who your husband is or who his commanding officer is, maybe..."
A look of terror filled her eyes for a moment, then she shook her head. "No, my husband is dead."
Moffitt glanced from Troy to the woman and back to Troy. "I thought-"
"I came looking for him, he was reported missing in action. I found his grave just outside of Citi Kamal. Private Hugh took me there." Suddenly she sighed. "Is Teddy..."
"He died, ma'am." Troy began calmly, despite the look of warning Moffitt had shot him.
Her jaw quivered, then she nodded bravely. "Very well. Everyone in this war dies, don't they?"
Moffitt took her hand again. "I'm very sorry."
"But his name..." Wilhelmina absentmindedly answered Troy's first question. "His name was Hans...Hans Muller."
"Missus Muller..." Troy tried again, this time much kinder. "If you can tell us who his officer was..."
The woman bit her lip, then began uncontrollably crying in the sand.
"I don't know, I don't remember!" she screeched.
Tenderly Moffitt stroked her hand while casting a glare at Troy. "It's alright. You need to rest. We can talk later."
"No, no, please don't go!" she said, tightening her grip on Moffitt's strong, comforting hand. She looked at him, her beautiful eyes imploring. "Please!"
"Shh... shh..." Moffitt cooed, brushing a strand of hair from her face, which was burning hot with fever. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I think it was Dietrich..." she moaned, rolling over and letting go of the sergeant. "Yes... I'm sure it was. His officer's name was Dietrich."
Surely Lewis wasn't good at playing a hero, and his act was beginning to grate on Troy's worn nerves. They weren't abandoning him behind to make room for Franka and her mother and by no means was he taking turns walking with Tully and Hitch. Anger simmered in Troy. Finally he turned to Lewis.
"We aren't leaving you!" he barked. "You're going to follow my orders and we are all going to make it out alive! You, that woman and her kid, all of us! So shut your yap and get in that jeep now, Lewis!"
Lewis flinched and looked at Moffitt, who shrugged, unmoved by Troy's outburst. Finally the handicapped man consented, and hobbled to the jeep where Hitchcock helped him in.
"Hey, Sarge?" Tully came up behind Troy, taking a swig from a canteen. The sun was high in the sky now, and they were squinting from the bright glare. "Where are we going?"
"Dietrich's camp."
"Where's that?" the private inquired, offering the canteen to Troy.
Troy turned him down. "Hitch and I looked over the maps, and unless he moved his regiment, we're about two days from him."
"Unless." drawled Tully, screwing the cap back on and staring up at the sky.
"Yeah." Troy grunted. He nodded at Lewis in the jeep. "Hey, tell Lewis I'm a little irritable..."
Tully smiled knowingly and walked on ahead.
Troy stared at the sky, looking for what Tully had seen. A hot sun intent on killing them all. The same sun that he'd labored under while chained to his nemesis, Captain Hans Dietrich. The same sun that had blistered him while dragging a shell-shocked Tully Pettigrew and the other two nearly dehydrated Rat Patrol members to a water hole... a water hole that had ended up being useless, as it had been poisoned. It was the same sun he had cursed hundreds of times.
"Sam?" Moffitt called, dragging Troy's mind back to the present, "Come here a moment!"
"What is it?" Troy asked. The jeep hood was still covered in maps and pencils. Hitchcock had his wire-rimmed glasses on, and he popped a bubble. Troy set his hat on top of the maps. Moffitt promptly moved it.
"Hitch pointed something out. If we take this route," Moffitt ran a slender finger along a light pencil mark. "We will be in Dietrich's vicinity in a day, as opposed to the first route we considered."
Troy squinted at the map. Quicker, but rougher.
"Moffitt, that'd be bucking a stacked deck. Two days of easier going is gonna be best in the end for Lewis and our two Jerry passengers."
Lewis perked up at the mention of his name. "I'll be fine-"
"Shut up, Lewis." Moffitt snapped, but his voice had no edge. "We're fighting more than just discomfort here. Rations, remember? We were low before, but now we've nearly double the need. How about infection? Or even the child in this extreme heat."
Troy studied Moffitt's face. The suggestion was slightly out of character, as Moffitt never let anything jeopardize a mission. Yet there was no mission... They'd completed their mission three days ago.
"What is this, Moffitt?" asked Troy pointedly.
"An errand of mercy, perhaps." suggested Moffitt. His slight lisp gave the comment a hint of humor. "We get her to a medical unit under her late husband's officer, we get them both somewhere they can be sent back to Germany, we get a better vehicle and some medical supplies for Lewis."
His listener hesitated.
"Troy," Moffitt continued, "Do you know a better way? Citi Kamal is gone."
Troy shook his head. "Then it's your route. And Moffitt?"
The British sergeant was walking away, but he paused to look over his shoulder. "Yes?"
"Don't make me regret this."
"Oh, never." he answered dryly, and climbed in the jeep beside Wilhelmina.
The jeep jostled along and they refueled twice before Franka began squirming and crying and saying 'Down' very sassily in German. So Moffitt climbed out of the jeep, let Tully in his place and walked with Franka across the sands. She sank up to her chubby ankles often and Moffitt would pick her up, brush her off and set her aright on the ground again. At her slow pace, the jeep would speed ahead so that Moffitt would have to gather her up in his arms and jog ahead by a few yards, then set her down and start again. Hitchcock trudged along with them, keeping the sergeant company and telling stories.
Finally Moffitt turned to him, cheeks flushed and a strand of black hair hanging in front of a blue eye. "Will you carry her this time?"
Hitch drew his head back reluctantly and blinked. The toddler stared at him. "Uh..."
"Fine!" snapped Moffitt, hoisting her up and speed-walking up to the front of the jeep. He glared back at Hitch after returning her little feet on the ground. "What, are you afraid of her?"
Unbuttoning his shirt to cool himself, Hitch replied, "Maybe a little... I've never been good at babies."
"There's nothing to be good at." Moffitt stated, propping the child back up in the sand. She cooed at him and tried to cram a handful of sand into her mouth. Hurriedly he batted it away. She cried until he gave her his watch.
"Uh huh." Hitch laughed at his flustered sergeant.
"Well, I'm not asking you to change her," grunted the Englishman, nodding toward the girl. "All I want you to do is carry-"
A shell shattered beside them, sending sand and shrapnel flying. Moffitt dropped to the ground as a fragment of shell pierced his thigh. In a flash, Tully launched himself into the back of the jeep, manned the machine gun and sent bullets thundering over Hitchcock's head.
Suddenly Hitch realized the baby wasn't beside Moffitt; She was sitting five feet away, the sound of her blood-curdling screams being drowned in the deafening combat.
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