My thoughts gradually returned me to the present. I glanced down at my drawing and frowned inwardly. I felt there was something incomplete about it, but I couldn't identify the missing element. My mind obsessively searched for it, but I was unable to detect and grasp it into reality.
To relax my thoughts and allow my creative side to return, I instead concentrated on the sunset.
The sun was beginning to set, turning the sky into the most delicate shade of a pale orange geranium. The soft color was so much different than my own destiny, I thought wryly. My current destiny was anything other than the darkest shade of black. But, I also knew that one's life and destiny can change in a moment's notice, when one least expects it or when one firmly takes control of it.
I placed my musings aside when I saw Leutnant Hoffman slowly approaching. I was surprised to see him released by the medical personnel so soon. The heavy dressings, only partially hidden by his shirt, covered his upper arm and shoulder and were, ever so slightly stained scarlet. I suspected he would downplay his wounds, insisting there were minor.
"Herr Hauptmann," he said saluting. I waved a half salute at him and motioned for him to stand at ease, my hand darkened from the charcoal.
"Your arm and shoulder?" I asked. He should be faint from the blood loss along let alone the injuries. I knew it had taken an effort on his part to come see me.
"Nothing more than a scratch, Herr Hauptmann," he assured me. "There is too much work to be done for me to lie around for the next several days doing nothing except counting flies on the tent's walls. These doctors are too much like mother hens."
"Why do I suspect your wounds are more severe than what you're leading me to believe?" I had seen him stagger into the medical tent, heavily leaning upon another soldier for support soon after we returned. He easily could have been transferred to an area behind the lines to recover for at least a month. He had instead chosen to stay.
I knew it was his loyalty to me which caused him to remain, a loyalty which I respected and needed at this critical time. His departure would have left the unit without a junior officer, a loss made even more significant with me temporarily leaving in a few days to present my report. I would need all the assistance and support he was capable of providing in the future to help me rebuild the unit and finally put an end to the Rat Patrol.
"I have received some limited information regarding the Rat Patrol," he said politely, choosing to ignore my question and focus on his message.
It was as if Hoffman was reading my thoughts. I was pleased to see him continue to speak without me needing to continually prompt him. He finally was beginning to adapt to my leadership style, no longer waiting for me to feed the questions to him. As I originally thought, he was turning into a fine officer. I could and would begin relying on him more heavily in the future.
"The Rat Patrol belongs to the 111th Armor Reconnaissance. They are commanded and led by the Americans with support from the British 8th Army. They are under the command of a Colonel Quint who arrived with the initial force of Americans. Their direct command is an American named Sam Troy. He is their lead sergeant who plans and executes their raids."
"Sam? Not Samuel?" I asked with a frown. "The truncated form would be unusual as a given name. But then again, Americans are known for their unusual behavior. No doubt it carries over to how they name their children."
"The name Intelligence gathered was 'Sam'. Unknown if it was shortened. Apparently, he is the one who wears the Australian Bush hat. Perhaps he received it from the British forces when he was ordered to the desert. Sergeant Troy is from…Voming?" he said struggling to pronounce the name. He looked at me with a puzzled expression, aware I had visited the United States several times before the war.
"Wyoming," I gently corrected him. "It is a state located in the western part of the country."
"Ah! A cowboy," he responded brightly.
"I believe all Americans have a bit of cowboy in them, but it certainly would provide a partial explanation regarding his personality. Do you have any additional information regarding him or any of the others?"
"There is no other information concerning him. The Americans have been in the war for such a short time Intelligence has been unable to gather much information about him."
"Troy, Sergeant Sam Troy," I said out loud. Such a simple name for such a complex man. The name easily rolled off my tongue as if had known him for years. In a way, I had. I didn't believe this cowboy would be running away anytime soon. "So, the Americans have finally made their presence known in this remote outpost of the war. Please continue," I prompted.
"The other sergeant is Jack Moffitt. Apparently, he replaced the other American sergeant we hit during your first encounter with the Rat Patrol. He was assigned from the British 8th Army to the American commando group. He is a Cambridge professor, with an extensive knowledge of the desert. He has been to the Middle East several times before the war for archaeological expeditions and to complete his doctoral thesis."
"So the one sergeant has the boldness of the Americans while the other has the patience of the English. A formidable combination, I hate to admit." I found it interesting that the American is the lead sergeant when he possesses less experience and knowledge of the desert. There must be a leadership ability that they recognized in him. "Any details on the other two soldiers?"
"There is no information regarding the two other men although I'm assuming that they are privates."
I nodded, agreeing with the assumption.
"On the two occasions you encountered them one was wearing an American issued Army helmet while the other was wearing a French Foreign Legion kepi. I think it would be very unusual for the French to be active here in this type of warfare. I would think that he is an American, though. They seem very loose regarding their headgear, especially given the American sergeant's choice of cover. Except for the regulation helmet worn by the other, none of the other headgear would provide much protection given their demolition work."
I allowed my thoughts to gather around his words for a few minutes before replying.
"Very good, Leutnant. This will be the beginning for my dossier regarding the Rat Patrol. I'm very positive over time we will obtain more information regarding Sergeant Troy and the three other commandos. I would place even odds our paths will cross with theirs again, probably sooner rather than later." Hoffman continued to stand before me and I could tell there was something else weighing on his mind.
"Leutnant, you have a question?" I gently prompted him.
"Herr Hauptmann, why didn't he shoot you, this Sergeant Sam Troy? When he had the opportunity to do so? You were within point-blank range," Hoffman blurted.
"Are you sorry about that, Leutnant? Looking to obtain a new commanding officer so soon after my arrival?" I teased.
"Oh, no, Herr Hauptmann!" Hoffman protested, stammering and quickly flushing.
I had to laugh out loud at the young man's dilemma and at myself for placing him in such an uncomfortable situation.
"You will also learn that I have a sense a humor, believe it or not," I smiled, hoping to put him at ease. "Please feel free to continue your thoughts regarding my near demise."
"The Rat Patrol had already killed many other men and they have caused so much destruction, both before and after your arrival. We're obviously operating in the same area as their orders."
"Go on, Hoffman." I knew where his line of thought was going. It was something that had more than crossed my mind, as well.
"He must realize we will engage them in combat again sometime in the near future. To eliminate the commanding officer of the enemy would have been the logical step for him to make." Hoffman took a breath and looked at me expectantly, hoping for some answer that made sense.
I wasn't sure that I had one to give him. "Excellent analysis, Leutnant, even though it would have been at my expense," I laughed lightly, but agreed with him internally. "I wish I had an answer for you, Leutnant. I asked myself the same question from the moment he spared me. He must have had a reason for not acting when he was presented with such an opportunity. Perhaps, when we capture the good Sergeant Sam Troy it will be an excellent question to ask him." It was one of many I would like to pose to the Sergeant when in the near future we ended his career.
Hoffman agreed.
"Until then, it seems that our mutual question will remain unanswered." I looked down at my drawing and I noticed the Leutnant's eyes following mine.
"May I, Herr Hauptmann?" He indicated the drawing.
I handed the drawing pad to him.
He intently studied it before commenting on it.
"You are very talented, Herr Hauptmann. Were you an artist before the war?"
I gave him a small smile and shook my head slightly.
He returned my smile before he continued speaking. "It is an excellent likeness of Sergeant Sam Troy. But why did you draw his portrait? He is the enemy who has caused considerable destruction against us."
"Why not?" I countered with a grin. I couldn't exactly answer why I had chosen him myself. Perhaps it was due to him sparing my life and I felt I owed him for his compassion. Hoffman pondered my reply a few minutes before responding.
"Well, at least now you have a name to place with his face."
"Yes, I do," I said agreeing with him. Suddenly, in a fluid motion I elegantly wrote his name in script beneath his likeness. Now my portrait was finally complete.
I looked at it for another moment before I commented again. "Yes," I repeated, to myself and not to Hoffman. "I have been waiting quite some time to put the two together. Now I finally know the man that I've been seeking for so many years."