I knew this was one of those rare occasions that it would be necessary for me to take a gamble and work with the native Bedouins. I only reluctantly worked with them when I believed the situation absolutely warranted it. Our war had nothing to do with them.
They had been living their nomadic life without incident and interruption for hundreds of year until the chaos of war had descended upon them. I honestly believed they wanted all of us to simply leave, both the Allies as well as the Axis. I couldn't find fault with them for this ideology. I would feel the same way if my homeland had been invaded several times over my lifetime.
As a result, I could never be certain which side the locals supported in this war. While I knew there were several tribes who openly supported the Axis, there were just as many who backed the Allies. I considered the vast majority somewhere in the middle, not really caring which side won as long as everyone departed when the conflict was over. And no doubt, the end could not arrive soon enough for everyone, including all of us combatants.
While I had received useful information from the natives at times, I also knew that they in turn were supplying information regarding us to the Allies. As much as I compensated the local natives, I had to assume that they were receiving double compensation for supplying the same data twice when they notified the Allies of our plans. At other times, I suspected that they merely told us all merely what we wanted to hear in order to escape the situation.
I always cautioned myself to closely scrutinize the accuracy of any paid information I received from anyone. I carefully reviewed all material, not just from the Arabs but also from any of those from the neutral countries who were always willing to give their support for a small fee. How accurate could the data be if one had to pay for it?
It was the opportunists working both sides and changing their allegiance without a moment's notice when it suited their purpose that I was most wary. I frankly couldn't blame those that found themselves in the middle. Both the Axis and the Allies were making alliances and promises with everyone only to break them just as quickly when the situation merited it.
There were a few locals who I truly considered my friends. I did my best to look after them when they were in my area of command. Some of them I had known from before the war and they would greet me warmly as a brother. They were the ones who stated their thoughts of Germany's remote chance of success as they graciously shared tea with me in their tents. They knew I would never inform or punish them due to these beliefs. This made me different from many of the fanatical Nazis that they had encountered during the war.
For living a nomadic lifestyle, some of the locals were surprisingly well informed on world affairs. They already knew what was happening to those caught within the Nazis' snares. Most of these men couldn't believe I was part of such a folly as Nazi Germany. Knowing me, they doubted I could possibly share its beliefs.
A few had even boldly offered to hide me if I came to my senses and deserted from the Wehrmacht. I would always thank them for their generosity as I politely refused, knowing the great danger they placed themselves by even offering. They greatly admired my loyalty (or was it foolishness?) but they predicted Germany would fail in the end, just as so many countries had done here in the past.
One friend had been offended when I had worn my uniform to visit him, believing I was there for informational purposes rather than for friendship. I assured him that I was not there for any military reason. He remained suspicious, asking why I thought it necessary to bring armed men if I was only visiting him as a friend. When I politely mentioned that he too had armed men posted outside in case I acted foolishly, he brought up that I had never worn my uniform in his tent before the war. I reminded him I had been in the military when we knew each other before the war. He just as quickly countered that I was not wearing the uniform of his country's invaders at the time.
The scarcity of time did not give me the luxury of debating the wisdom of the decision I made last night. I made a calculated estimate as to where I thought the cache could be buried and then contacted the local tribe. I had not encountered this nomadic tribe previously and was not familiar with its leader. It was a minor tribe and I believed would be more advantageous to my mission. It had been my experience that smaller tribes were more likely to work with the Germans than a larger one. There was a greater need for the monetary reward and since there were fewer tribal members, each tribesman would receive a greater share.
We were both apprehensive about meeting the other, although I knew I had the upper hand over the chieftain. He met me warily as the blazing sun beat down on the two of us. He appeared not to feel the sun's intensity in the slightest.
A remote part of me was concerned about him being targeted as a collaborator, both now and after the war. I knew what was happening in France to those working with the Germans. I was concerned about the same retaliatory acts occurring here against those who assisted me. Those thoughts disappeared almost instantly when I met him. I soon discovered that he had worked with the Germans before and that he clearly had no concerns about doing so again.
Although the desert has a way of aging men far beyond their years, he appeared old enough to be my father with his wrinkled skin and full gray mustache. He spoke only when I questioned him, saying and offering nothing else beyond his simple answers. Without the lucrative compensation of Nazi gold, I doubted if the man would have provided any answers or, if he would have had any regrets of simply killing me to be on his way.
I saw many things on the man's sun weathered face as he stood in front of me. Foremost was the loathing. I could see it clearly across his face as if it had been painted by an artist: The dislike of me personally as a man, the hatred of the uniform I wore and finally, repugnance for the foreign country the uniform and I represented. It was easy for me to place aside his loathing for I cared little about it. I had been despised by so many nationalities in so many different places; I had forced myself to become immune to it.
Beneath his loathing, I could see something else. The clear mark of fear. His fear of me sprang from the same elements that he loathed so greatly. The man clearly knew the promise and power from the regime my uniform represented. He had seen the results against others if they did not cooperate and deliver what we wanted and needed. I had no qualms about exploiting his fear since I knew what I could gain from it.
This was not normally the method I preferred using when I needed collaboration from others, the natives or any agents who entered the German sphere of influence. For this situation, I felt I had no choice except to use it. It was a dangerous dance I did with him and others only when I believed it absolutely necessary for success. I never mentioned any threats if they chose not to work with me; only the rewards if they made the correct decision. The threats didn't need to be spoken. They were clearly understood by all of us involved.
But of everything, I saw greed etched on his face. I knew this would be the ultimate driving motivation for his willingness to freely capitulate to Germany and my demands which were so politely framed as requests. When I recognized the greed, I knew that I owned him. His pent up desires of what the gold would deliver to him for the small price of his cooperation was barely contained. I knew deep down inside that the gold would mostly line only his pockets, with the vast majority of his tribe left without any.
The Bedouin had called me "Efendi" several times. I knew that he put no real meaning behind the word. His eyes gave him away. They were devoid of anything but burning hatred and greed. There was no respect coming from him, but I hadn't expected nor wanted any. The man could think what he wanted of me as long as I received what I needed and desired.
I went back to studying the map in front of me. Over the last few days the chieftain had provided me with a few useful leads. He readily admitted that he and his tribe did not know where the supplies were buried and would not even hazard a guess. The area was too large and the English had been in too many places during the war. I knew he was telling me the truth. If he had known differently he would have bargained and held out for compensation. To blatantly lie would bring down consequences he was not willing to face.
The most useful piece of information he had given me was what they had actually not seen. His tribe had not encountered the Rat Patrol in the outlying areas during the previous month. This enabled me to greatly narrow the search area from what I had originally scoped. At least I knew where they weren't and if they were not in the area, then the supplies would not be buried there, either.
The area was still too large for me to realistically pinpoint the supplies or the Rat Patrol, in my narrow time frame. Without realizing it, I softly spoke out loud in German to the chieftain still standing in front of me. It was only when I saw the puzzled look appear on his face that I realized I had verbalized my thoughts in a language he didn't understand.
"When one looks for a needle in a haystack, one might get stuck," I translated. I looked up at where he stood to gauge his understanding. I had not offered him a chair while I was seated comfortably. It was a not so subtle demonstration that I held the upper hand over him.
"We know they buried it. We must find the place where the English buried the ammunition and gasoline, we must!" The sun was very strong, forcing me to squint. I could feel the perspiration on my brow and would have preferred to remove my jacket, but I didn't want to appear weak in front of him. I stood up and dropped several gold coins into his hand, paying for the information he had provided and more importantly, ensuring he return to fulfill the remainder of his greed.
"There will be many more when you find the supplies," I reiterated to him. "But watch out for the English and the Americans. Especially the Americans."
The tribesman nodded, his eyes full of understanding.
"Yes my brother, there is a certain unit I have met before. Wouldn't it be amusing if they led us to it?" I couldn't help but grin at my words.
This is what I had envisioned from the beginning.