"What was the last contact or information on the missing convoy's location, Sergeant Williamson?", Hans Dietrich asks the aboriginal soldier with a creased brow. "They reported from the location of the depot, when they'd reached it. Since then there has been no news", the Australian Sergeant reports dutifully. "Then, we will start our search from there. Are you familiar with the location, Sergeant?", the German Captain continues his inquiry. "Yes. I know the landscape and the best way to get there quickly", Williamson confirms. "Excellent. You will be in the leading Jeep then. Private Pettigrew will follow close behind with our vehicle", Dietrich replies with a serious, but content expression. Tully nods in affirmation, but appears far less content than the German officer. "When do we leave, Captain?", Troy asks for the benefit of all. "As soon as possible. Check all equipment for the assignment, prepare for a rescue mission! Have you requested and obtained the extended first aid kit from the sickbay, Sergeant?", Dietrich answers matter-of-factually looking at all of them, but directs the question toward Troy. "No. I don't have your good relationship with the medical personnel. You've probably spent more time with them in a week than I have in a year", the American Sergeant replies slightly amused. The German Captain merely glares at him, replying sarcastically: "I will accompany you then to take care of the honours, while you can take care of the menial labour of carrying the kit. Quod licet Iovi, non licet bovi." "Have you just cursed me in Italian or what, Captain?", Troy inquires with irony. "It's Latin. Do you want to wait for your British friend to translate or should I share the meaning with you immediately?", Dietrich inquires with irony. "Since when do you speak Latin?", Troy asks incredulously. "Noone speaks Latin with the exception of a few crazy archaeologists and Latin teachers, Troy. I learned a few phrases in high school, like most educated people", the German Captain replies dryly, while several soldiers around grin widely. "Also my father insisted that studying the history and structure of the ancient Roman military was educational for a future officer."
"Have I told you that you're a smart...", Troy starts out, but finds himself quickly interrupted by the German: "Quit insulting my education, Sergeant! Your probation is in a precarious balance already." Troy looks slightly affronted. "Don't be so tetchy, Captain! What happened to make you so grumpy?" "You, Sergeant, dragging me out of my sickbed before 0500 in the morning", Dietrich replies dryly. Troy snorts. "Okay. I grant you that you could have had a better start of the day." Dietrich smiles wryly at the understatement. "So what does the Latin stuff mean, Captain?", Daniel O'Donnell cannot keep his curiosity in check any longer. "Basically it means 'what Jupiter is allowed to do, the ox isn't.' For details I can only refer you to our local resident scholar, Sergeant Moffit, as I do not really know much Latin." Troy smiles at the answer. "Did you call me an ox, Captain?" "If this is your self-reflected interpretation, Sergeant, don't let me deter you. However, I would not have intended to insult innocent animals like that", the German Captain replies dryly. Tully is hiding his smirk behind shifting his matchstick, while several of the Australians grin widely now, some even laugh. After a moment of baffled silence, Troy barks a hearty laugh as well. "We will enjoy a wonderful ride together, if you continue to be entertaining like this, Captain." Dietrich frowns at the statement, but returns to a professional stance. "You all have your orders, gentlemen. I will see to our medical equipment and speak with our Arab allies to coordinate our search and their transport of the major. We will leave at 0700 sharp. Have everything prepared until then!", the German officer commands, fighting against the pain in his shoulder to give a salute which he considers far from his proper standards. At least he is able to move the arm again unlike the previous day. But Williamson along with several Australian soldiers returns the gesture nonetheless. Some of the Aussies even spare the German Captain sympathetic glances, knowing how he has obtained his injury.
Dietrich does not dwell on them for too long, as he gets up to briskly walk toward the sickbay. Troy follows closely in his wake, while Tully turns toward the motor pool to prepare their Jeep for the day with the last fine tuning of the engine and to perform a final check of the axes and gas tank. On the way to the sickbay, Dietrich passes by his and Jakob's shared tent to pick up his cap and goggles. Seeing his former Wehrmacht cap lying next to the American one and Captain Brown's Australian bush hat makes him hesitate briefly. Focusing on clear goals has helped Hans Dietrich for the moment to not dwell on his nagging feelings of guilt, shame and confusion about the way he is walking, appearing more steadfast on the outside than he actually feels on the inside. Where is the line to be drawn between loyalty toward his fatherland and toward the land the army of which he has thrown his lot in? When does mercy and compassion with your enemy actually become treason? Especially, when these enemies have previously been your allies, acquaintances, close to friends or family, the lines are more easily erased than a snake's trail in the constantly shifting dunes, blown away by the desert wind before the predator has found its next prey. Standing next to the crouching German, Sam Troy observes the younger man's gaze turning unfocused, as he stares at or rather through the small table with his clothes. Whatever is haunting Dietrich the Captain seems to shake off through an effort of will, as he shakes his head slightly before putting his crusher cap with the goggles on. Wordlessly and without meeting the American Sergeant's eye, Hans Dietrich rises and swiftly turns on his heels to briskly walk toward the field hospital. Troy follows on his heels and decides to keep a close eye on the younger man who still bears a slightly haunted expression.
When the German Captain arrives in the sickbay the day shift has already taken up their duty, letting the night shift find some rest. "What can I do for you Captain?", Doctor Andrews greets him in a friendly manner. "I need to pick up my weapons belt. Also you have granted me an extended medical kit for missions, Doctor Andrews. We will require this for the rescue mission of the Australians", Dietrich replies calmly. "Of course. Lisa, please bring the kit for the Captain!", the American calls out to his nurse who quickly takes off after scrutinising the young officer briefly. "I'll go looking for your belt, Captain", Troy offers to which the German officer nods in agreement. "Do you have everything prepared for handing Major von Stolberg over to the Bedouins, Doctor Andrews?", Dietrich inquires in a calm tone. The American medic nods. "We have arranged with General Atkins that some of his guards will pick him up at 0900 and escort him to the Bedouin camp, Captain." The German officer looks appreciative. "Excellent. I trust that you will handle this with care. Sergeant Moffit also remains in camp as an interpreter should you require one for both German and Arabic." "I appreciate your concern as always, Captain Dietrich. Which brings me to my next question. How is your shoulder?", the medic inquires with a concerned look at the tall, lean officer. "The treatment of the Swiss nurses has greatly increased mobility and reduced my headaches and migraines, but I honestly had no idea how many muscles could possibly hurt in one's shoulder belt", the German Captain replies dryly, but with a wry smile. "You'd better keep that in mind before your next risky action, Captain", Andrews admonishes with a friendly tone. "I also heard that you have forsaken us in the night." "An urgent call of duty", Dietrich replies swiftly.
Andrews studies his face intently for a few moments before nodding. "As always." "Do you doubt my honor, Doctor?", the German officer snaps with an offended tone. "I do not doubt your willingness to put others' interests before your own for a moment, Captain", the American Doctor answers calmly. "Which is the reason why it is good that you have someone looking out for your interests." Troy who has returned to standing just behind the German's shoulder nods grimly, as he meets the Doctor's eye. The Captain frowns, but winces when he tries to look back over his shoulder, as a jolt of pain shoots through his neck. "Easy, young man", the American medic admonishes with a friendly tone. "You're hardly in a state in which I would like to release you from sickbay at all. Yet, orders are orders and the General can overrule us all. But do me a favour and take care of yourself, Captain!" With a weary sigh, the German officer nods slightly, careful not to strain his neck. "You'd better let me help you with your belt, Captain, especially when you want to keep carrying your Arab weapon arsenal", Troy comments as he holds out the belt which he has switched with the German officer a few days ago to hold his gun, dagger and saber along with a few belt pouches. Dietrich scowls with obvious dislike for the idea of requiring his help, but he can hardly argue in front of the medical doctor and in the light of his shoulder's state. Nodding finally in fatalistic acceptance of the offered support, the German nonetheless tenses involuntarily at the close range this brings Troy into. The American Sergeant scowls, but decides not to torment the young officer more than necessary by commenting on the subconscious reaction or the necessity to use the innermost hole to keep the belt on the thin German.
"Here she comes", Troy comments instead with a wide smile, as he sees Hitch' girlfriend approach with the med kit. "Everything is refilled and checked, Captain. Take care of our boys out there and of yourself!", the American nurse offers with a smile and winks at the last part, eyeing the lean officer with a bit of concern. His shoulder must still hurt like hell after all, given the large bruise she has seen only yesterday. Taking the risk for himself in spite of his dislike for Hitch's constantly annoying behaviour, is something she can only admire the German Captain for. "Thank you, Lieutenant Hartigan", Captain Dietrich replies with a polite tone. The German officer moves his head to indicate his Sergeant to pick up the kit, as he rubs his sore shoulder without paying attention to the action consciously.
When they leave the hospital tent, Dietrich turns away from the motor pool in the direction where Prince Hassan has indicated that they will build their camp. "You bring the kit to the Jeep and check with Pettigrew and the Australians, Sergeant, while I speak with the Arabs." Troy frowns at the order and counters: "I'd rather not let you go there on your own without any backup or support, Captain." "I appreciate your concern, Troy, but neither do I fear the Bedouins to actively attack me, nor am I such an invalid that I need to be constantly looked after", the German growls with slight annoyance. "You couldn't actually defend yourself with that injured arm of yours!", the American Sergeant holds against him. "And we've both been out here in the desert for long enough to know that it's full of surprises." Dietrich sighs wearily. "Fine, Sergeant. Come along, if you want to play the mother hen." Troy grins. "The fox and the hen. That's quite the image." "Are you trying to provide me with suggestions on how to properly handle you from now on, Sergeant?", the German asks dryly, as he makes his way up to the dune's ridge separating them from the Arabs' camp.
"As-salamu 'alaikum", an Arab guard with a rifle in his hands greets the German Captain politely. "Wa-'alaikumu s-salam", Hans Dietrich returns the greeting with due politeness. "*I need to speak with Prince Hassan ibn Sulaiman.*" The Bedouin eyes him warily, but nods after a few seconds of silent assessment. "*The Prince and his cousins are in the central tent, faris alsahra. I have to stay on the watch.*" "*Thank you. Prince Hassan can be glad to have dutiful warriors such as you*", the German officer replies with demanded politeness, appreciating the man's cooperation and diligence. He would appreciate having more soldiers with such a sense of duty himself. Neither in the Wehrmacht nor among the Americans this has been the standard for every soldier, as Gottschlich's behaviour has reminded him of only today. The young man surely has not borne any ill intent, but still lacked the appropriate conscientiousness one should be able to expect from a Corporal. He will have to learn that quickly out here close to the front or will end up dead very soon. Troy observes the interaction between Dietrich and the Arab warrior curiously, noticing the respect the Bedouin shows the German officer and vice versa. When the guard lets them pass he bears a proud and appreciative expression, while Dietrich scowls and appears thoughtful, as he leads their way to the central tent. "What did you tell him, Captain?", the American Sergeant intends to find out. "I asked him where to find the Prince", the young German responds professionally. "That surely wouldn't have made him beam like he did. What else did you tell him?", Troy wants to satisfy his curiosity.
Dietrich appears slightly surprised, but adds with a wry smile: "I told him that Prince Hassan can be glad to have dutiful warriors such as him. After all, I know what I am talking about given my own men's behaviour." Troy looks slightly annoyed. "Hey, what's wrong with us?" "You're behaving as self-reflected as ever, Sergeant", the Captain counters dryly. "You're still of the opinion that everything revolves around you, Troy. So let's take a look at you and the merry men, as Moffit has termed you adequately. To be honest, I don't know where I should even start. With Sergeants catching instead of dodging bullets or Privates indulging in imbecilic dares that involve drunkenly jumping into snake pits in the darkness of night? Maybe with Corporals chatting with their enemies instead of keeping watch or soldiers who threaten to beat up senior officers and even do so at times." "I didn't beat you up", Troy growls. "You did, several times in the past, and you were rather close today. And let's not talk about your brother's state yesterday after you had a family talk with him", the lean German reminds him dryly. "David doesn't count. That's a family matter. And I really didn't intend to beat you up today", Troy protests. Dietrich merely raises his eyebrows looking doubtful, but refrains from continuing the argument, as he greets the guards at the entrance of the central tent in a similar fashion to before.
When the two soldiers are let into the Prince's tent, Hassan stands up from his pillow, as do Murat and Fatjon who share tea and breakfast with him. "*Bring tea for our guests!*", the Bedouin leader orders one of his guards. "*We do not wish to bother you for long, Prince Hassan*", the tall German officer explains politely and bows slightly, as he is given a small metal cup with strong tea. Troy eyes the beverage warily, but takes the offered cup, as he sees the Captain narrow his eyes in warning to not make a scene over a cup of tea. With smooth Arabic, the young German continues: "*I only came to inform you that I will have to leave the camp now for a rescue mission, as the man I require for opening the metal cupboard of the Ifrit along with several others from our people are missing in the desert.*" Hassan and his cousin frown at the news, but Dietrich continues quickly to reassure them. "*This will not affect our arrangement with you, Prince Hassan. Our men at the camp will hand over Major von Stolberg as a prisoner to be put on trial for his crimes according to your laws.*" Hassan nods contently and the Captain takes a sip at his tea, while the American Sergeant desperately looks for a way to unobtrusively dispose of the stinking liquid without having to drink it.
"*But it will mean that you will not ride with us, when we bring him back for the trial*", the leader of the Bedouins assesses and the German Captain agrees. "*That is correct, Prince Hassan. I have a duty to my men to fulfill and this includes not to leave them behind in the desert without trying to find and rescue them.*" "*You are an honorable leader of your warriors, faris alsahra*", Murat comments. "*I would ride with you to help with the search.*" Dietrich looks surprised and bows his head slightly in a gesture of gratitude. "*I truly appreciate your noble offer, Murat ibn Muhammad. But you will be required for the transport and the trial of the Major who has ordered the murder of your tribesmen and the assassination attempt against your uncle, Sheikh Sulaiman. Also, our Jeeps are faster than a horse can run in the open desert.*" Murat accepts the polite rejection with a slight frown, but Hassan agrees with the German Captain that they should all together transport the man responsible for the attack on his father and his tribesmen in the caravan and subsequent attack along with the Americans. "*We will await your arrival in town, faris alsahra. Of course we will stand by our arrangement of trade. If you arrive within this day, you can even witness the trial of the man you call von Stolberg.*" Hassan's pronunciation of the German name makes it almost sound Arabic even for Dietrich's ears.
The German briefly and harshly whispers "Troy!" in a reprimanding way, as from the corner of his eyes he spies the Sergeant trying to spill the tea from his cup. Troy glares back at him, feeling thoroughly betrayed. "*I thank you for your patience, Prince Hassan. We are honored to arrive as guests in your town for trade and freeing you of the metal cupboard of the Ifrit*", the Captain continues his talk with the Bedouins unperturbed by the American's unruly behaviour. After all, he did not expect too much good conduct from the Sergeant in the first place. After the necessary exchange of polite niceties for another minute, the two soldiers take their leave from the tent after handing back their empty tea cups. Troy has found an unobserved moment to spill the vile stuff in the corner of the tent and grins smugly, as the German Captain looks equally surprised and suspicious. Deciding he actually does not want to know about the fate of the tea to keep his conscience clear, Dietrich refrains from asking about it and silently turns back toward their camp.
"It will be great riding with you and Tully", Troy provides as a prompt for conversation. "I'm already bursting with excitement", the German replies sarcastically after eyeing him warily. "Have you spent another night with Captain Brown trying his dubious collection of potentially illegal homebrew beverages to sink to such a low level of conversation starters, Sergeant?" "Come on, Captain", the American Sergeant provides with a smile. "We've spent the evening together after all." The tall German sighs in exasperation. "Leave me in peace, Troy! Wasn't waking me up in the middle of the night through an almost attack enough of your unruly behaviour for one day?", Dietrich growls wearily. "And let's just forget about the fate of your tea, lest Sergeant Moffit calls for the defence of British honor and values again." The German officer sighs heavily. "Thank god, we at least managed to deter your brother from getting involved today." "Speaking of the devil, Captain", Sam Troy snarls, making the German Captain tense visibly. When would he ever learn to just keep his mouth shut and not tempt fate? "Cheers. Jolly good morning to you guys", David Troy greets them with a weird mixture of British and American expressions, as he waves at them from the rim of the camp. "What do you want, Davey?", his brother beats Dietrich in snarling at him in an utterly unfriendly tone. "Just checking on you folks", Dave tries to defend himself, while his gaze wanders from his livid looking brother to the German officer. "You have checked on us. We are fine. You may return to your recovery, your base or whatever would keep you occupied, Captain Troy", the German Captain snaps at the RAF pilot. "Yeah. You can do just what Captain Dietrich says", Sam Troy tries to support him which earns the American Sergeant wary frowns from both Captains however.
"I thought you might have cooled down a bit and would consider my offer to help again, Captain Dietrich", David addresses the German, knowing that convincing his brother is virtually impossible. Although the taller Captain glares at him warily, Dietrich evaluates the offer carefully. The Jeeps might be quick, but their visual range in the dunes is limited. "You might be able to support us after all, Captain Troy, if you are in a state that allows you to fly your plane to provide us with aerial surveillance information of a specific area", the German officer voices his proposition carefully. "You're really the reasonable one", David Troy beams and Dietrich glares at him for the insolent comment. This family truly will cost him the last of his nerves. "Just tell me where I'm supposed to fly", David Troy offers enthusiastically, while Sam Troy stares at the tall German officer as if he has completely lost his mind. "What are you doing?", he growls into the younger man's ear. "Keeping him occupied by providing us with an actually valuable support", Dietrich argues smoothly. "That should help to keep him from taking this camp apart while I'm gone." The older brother grins widely now. "You really are a wily young fox. What's the Italian name for you again?" The German Captain smirks at him, before replying sarcastically: "Capitano Volpacchiotto. There's nothing like a nicely working strategy to keep your family from destroying one of my camps in my absence to make my day, since you will also be out of camp for the day alongside me, Sergeant."
David Troy looks slightly confused from one of the two to the other, while his brother grins widely. "You have a lot to make up for to the Captain and me, Davey!", Sam rebukes his younger sibling. "Sure. I'm all willing to do that, Sammy!", comes the reply. "Ideally without crashing your plane or harming any of the men in this camp, independent of their uniform and alliance", Dietrich adds sternly. "I swear to you I'll cause no further harm, Captain Dietrich." The German officer winces slightly at the horrific pronunciation of his name. "It's not his fault that he's even worse than me", Sam Troy tries to console him with a wide grin. "All we ever learned about Germans was our dad's stories from the trenches in France." Dietrich eyes both of them wearily. "There is no need to elaborate, Sergeant. My father fought in that war as well."
After a few awkward moments of silence, the German Captain informs his RAF colleague matter-of-factually: "Sergeant Williamson will provide you with detailed information on the location of our target area, Captain. We are looking for a convoy of Australian Jeeps and trucks." "You're chasing the Aussies? I thought you didn't work for the Germans anymore?", David questions with a goofy smile at which Dietrich scowls in annoyance. "Don't try to play the clown with me, Captain Troy", the German Captain pronounces the title with a well-measured amount of sarcasm. "The position of court jester is already filled by your brother and his band of mischief makers." "Hey. Is this how you treat your friends?", Sam Troy protests. "Have you ever seen me treat Jakob any differently?", Dietrich inquires dryly. "Have you finally found someone who can handle you as well as Anne could?", David asks after curiously observing their interaction. "Don't you dare speak her name to me, you backstabbing weasel!", Sam growls and moves toward him aggressively. "Troy!", the German officer bellows and both brothers freeze at the command tone and steely edge in his voice. "Lead your discussions with your mouth, not with your fists!", the tall Captain advises strictly, focusing the Sergeant with a stern gaze. Sam Troy scowls at him, but nods after a few moments of reflection, while David looks actually impressed. "And you keep from provoking him unnecessarily", the lean German rebukes his older colleague from the RAF with an equally serious expression. "Yeah. Sure. Captain Dietr..." "Don't try to pronounce my name!", the German interrupts him sharply. "It makes my headaches return, when you do." David stares at him slightly dumbfounded. "There's the expert for handling us, if you've been looking for one, except for Mom", Sam whispers to his brother conspiratorially. "And you'd better behave yourself, Davey, or I'll see to it that you do." "Don't overstep the bounds of propriety, Sergeant. It's not like you would have a history of even vaguely respecting those", the German admonishes dryly, before turning swiftly on his heels. "Gentlemen, we are expected at the Jeeps." Given his already developing migraine, the German Captain seriously reflects whether taking an Aspirin prophylactically would be a good idea, as long as the two Troys remain in the same camp.
Sergeant Williamson speaks with Tully and three more Aussie drivers to explain their route and what to take care of, when Dietrich arrives with the brothers of madness. The Australian aboriginal soldier is shorter than most around him and the German can observe how several of the men including Tully Pettigrew eye him with a certain amount of wariness, some even with derision which the dark-skinned soldier seems to jovially ignore. "Sergeant Williamson", the Captain greets him politely inclining his head, after the Australian Sergeant has finished his instructions for the drivers. "Captain Troy from the RAF has offered to assist us with aerial surveillance. Please instruct him on the route and location of the area to be searched." Williamson curiously looks from the German to the British officer, as David Troy smiles widely at him. "So, where's that spot where we should start looking for your lost convoy?" Sam Troy meanwhile loads the medical equipment on their Jeep with Tully's support, all the while keeping an eye on his troublesome brother. Hans Dietrich similarly watches the interaction between the RAF Captain and the Australian Sergeant attentively, memorizing descriptions and landmarks that Williamson points out on the map.
"I'll get my plane's gas tank refilled, then I'll take off", David Troy informs them, before turning toward the motor pool's gasoline distribution coordinator. Feeling sorry for the poor guy whose ear his brother will shortly be talking off, Sam Troy turns toward the German Captain. "You're far too nice giving him a chance of rehabilitation just like that." Dietrich scowls at the comment. "Even though it might gravely inflict your world view, Sergeant, our universe does not revolve around you and your personal animosities or sympathies, unfounded or not", the German counters sarcastically. "I owe it to those men who risked their lives by going on this resupplying mission to help our camp on my request that I will not let pride or animosity get in my way of providing them with the best possible options for helping and saving them! Is this understood, Sergeant?" The American Sergeant looks briefly astounded at the sharp tone, before replying slightly sheepishly. "Of course, Captain. I never doubted your honor and concern for our men." One can accuse Dietrich of many things, but not of letting anything get in the way of helping his men to the best of his abilities and possibilities. Without another word, Dietrich turns sharply on his heels and walks determinedly toward their vehicle against which Tully is leaning leisurely chewing on his matchstick.
The German officer nods to Pettigrew, as he gets into the Jeep's front seat next to him, while Troy settles in his position in the back. "Follow Sergeant Williamson at a safe range, Private!", the German Captain orders matter-of-factually while adjusting his goggles. Observing the Australians carefully, he lets the leading Jeep decide when to leave. Slightly discontent to not be in the lead, Tully follows the order nonetheless. It is the most reasonable thing to do after all. As their vehicle jerks at the rash start, Dietrich grits his teeth as a jolt of pain shoots through his shoulder. Rubbing the sore muscles subconsciously, the German Captain concentrates on keeping his position stable while constantly observing their surroundings with a keen gaze. Sam Troy has enough experience with the fast rides to know that he will barely be able to discern anything in the desert out there and keeps his eyes trained on his companions in the Jeep instead, trusting Tully to keep his eyes out and on the Jeep before them. When a pained expression passes over the German's face and he rubs his shoulder, the American Sergeant can easily guess what is troubling him. Nonetheless, Dietrich keeps his eyes trained on their surroundings and his whole body looks tense and ready for action. At least, he is not mad enough to ride in a standing position, as he often has with his German convoys, though admittedly at a slower speed.
They drive as a column for almost three hours, before Dietrich notices something that disturbs the desert's monotony. Dark shapes of birds circle the sky and a shudder runs down the German's spine, as he recognizes the characteristic flight pattern of vultures, the vile scavengers of the desert with insatiable appetite for the flesh of the dead. And they should be close to the location where the depot has been hidden. A feeling of foreboding grips the German Captain, as he fights against the memories coming to him unbidden: the images of the corpses of his soldiers struck down by the .50 bullets of the gun Troy is leaning against just behind him, the stench of burning flesh, as he finds himself in the middle of an exploding gasoline depot, the tormented whimpers of men dying under excruciating pain, the taste of bile and blood on his tongue. Breathing in and out with an effort to keep his haunting memories in check, the German Captain focuses on the motion of the birds instead and signals to stop. Troy has noticed the lean young man suddenly turn pale and rigid, staring at some dark spots in the sky. Troy with his desert goggles on can barely make out that something is moving there and would never have noticed those without the Captain's reaction. The American is just about to reach out to shake him out of his trance and question him, when Dietrich gives the signal to stop which Troy immediately translates into a loud cry: "Stop!" Tully however speeds up, surpassing the Jeep before them with ease, so that Troy can shout his message to the Australian Sergeant as well.
Dietrich is actually grateful for their maneuver which saves him from standing up to shout his commands. His shoulder already protests against the rough ride it has suffered until now. Wondering silently why they have not seen or heard anything from David Troy and his plane yet, he jumps out of the Jeep to approach the Australian Sergeant and point him toward the scavengers. Williamson looks at the German with a mixture of bafflement and admiration, as he inquires: "You saw them during the ride with your goggles on? You have the eyes of an eagle, Captain Dietrich." "Could this be the location of the depot they are circling?", Hans Dietrich asks back, gamely ignoring yet another strange pronunciation of his surname. "That is very likely. It should be just behind the next dunes", the aboriginal Sergeant confirms and both exchange worried glances. "Have you seen anything of our air support, Captain?", the Australian Sergeant inquires. As the German Captain shakes his head in the negative, Sam Troy growls as he joins them: "I told you not to rely on Davey, Captain. That foul lout is as trustworthy as a gang of mobsters." Dietrich frowns. "He is a RAF officer nonetheless and appeared honest about his wish to redeem himself in our eyes. I see no reason why he should leave us to die in the ditch." Sam Troy eyes him intently, before his expression changes from annoyance to worry. "You think some damned Jerries are responsible for his disappearance?", the American Sergeant growls. The German Captain eyes him warily and at a loss of words, unsure whether Troy is serious in asking him of all people this particular question. As the awkward silence stretches on, Sam Troy notices that something is off. "I didn't mean you, Captain", he offers as a half-hearted apology. "I know what you mean", the tall German officer sighs warily, remembering that the Sergeant has once told him about his brother's abduction and being placed in the middle of a minefield by a ruthless and vengeful German Oberst. Dietrich averts his gaze, as he feels ashamed of those who have once been his fellow officers and should have behaved according to the standards his father has indoctrinated him with from early childhood. But has he not betrayed those values as well, turning against his fatherland and supporting American, British and Australian soldiers and officers to the point of actively attacking soldiers and officers of the Afrikakorps, not just of the political militia of the Nazis, the SS?
A hand tightly gripping and lightly shaking his shoulder draws the German Captain out of his reverie. "Hey, Captain. Are you alright?" Troy even sounds worried, as he looks at the younger man's drawn face. "Let go of me, Troy!", Dietrich snaps and the American almost looks relieved rather than affronted. "Good to have you back. And I really didn't mean you, when I said damned Jerry. " The German officer frowns, but refrains from arguing, as his ears pick up a distant noise. Noticing the change in the Captain's expression and stance, Troy inquires with wary curiosity: "What's going on? You see something?" Dietrich shrugs. "I hear something. Engines, likely from an aircraft." "That's Davey after all", the older Troy brother smiles with relief. "There's nothing like a German threat to glue the family together", the Captain comments sarcastically. "I really didn't mean to offend you", Troy counters angrily. "You haven't, Sergeant. The Colonel you told me about has and some others like him", Dietrich replies grimly. "Let's move to the ridge and get an overview", the German officer then suggests to the two Sergeants who both nod eagerly.
In spite of their desert experience, the shorter Sergeant Williamson beats both Troy and Dietrich in scaling the dune with practiced ease. While they still make their way across the last few metres to the ridge, the Australian whistles in alarm. When the German officer reaches his side and gets an overview himself, some blood drains from his face, as he stares in slight horror at the gruesome scene in front of him. Troy curses under his breath, as he stares in similar horrified disbelief at the desert plain laid out in front of them. The typically light coloured Sahara sand is scorched black, as the debris of burnt out vehicles, two large trucks and three Jeeps, becomes visible. The German Captain struggles as the scene before him and the noise of nearing aircraft merge with memories of explosions around him and the sight of his own men and vehicles caught in the middle of such a burning hell, while he has barely escaped from his exploding staff car and can only glare after the Rats who have had an uncanny streak of luck as always on their side. Ironically, this luck seems to have forsaken them, since the German officer has joined their ranks, as it has always eluded him before. "These are not all the Jeeps and trucks we have sent", Dietrich finally assesses. "Two trucks and five Jeeps are missing and could have made it out intact." "You can really start your head count just like that, Captain?" Troy sounds slightly incredulous that the German would be so cold-blooded toward his own allies after all his actions on the previous days.
"I would say I am the local expert for destroyed convoys and surviving burning oil fields", Dietrich states dryly, daring Troy to contradict him after all the Sergeant has put him through. "These vehicles have likely already burnt out completely yesterday and whoever was inside has no chance of still being alive. Believe me, I have seen more than enough men die in such a way." With a weary sigh and a tormented face, the German Captain adds: "It's different when your allies, not your enemies are in the middle of the burning hell, isn't it, Sergeant Troy?" Troy eyes the haunted officer with an almost guilty expression, remembering quite vividly how they have more than once rode off, leaving Dietrich in the middle of such a burning hell, as he has adequately termed it. Back then Sam has not even spared a thought to the German soldiers who have been killed in a rather agonising manner. Duty is duty after all. But having one of the men he has almost condemned to such a fate stand right next to him as one of his own allies and friends shifts his perspective somewhat.
"Is it for you, Captain?", the American Sergeant asks a bit more sharply than he has intended to sound. With a rare defeated looking stance, the German Captain shakes his head, having closed his eyes. "I wish for nobody to die in such a way." Dietrich's voice sounds slightly strangled, as the tormented cries of the dying men and the stench of burning flesh haunt him. Refraining from breathing in too deeply, lest his memories mix with reality, the German Captain eyes the burnt vehicles with a mournful expression that induces a pang of guilt in Sam Troy. Sergeant Williamson seems to have made just the mistake Dietrich has avoided, as he has turned slightly ashen and struggles to control his retching. "Let's get back to the Jeeps", the German Captain orders with a sympathetic tone, stepping closer to the Australian Sergeant in case he should need support.
Once away from the direct wafts of stink, the aboriginal Australian recovers quickly. By now, all of them can make out the engine sounds of David Troy's plane very clearly. "Your brother can hopefully help us check the surroundings for traces of survivors without further risk for our men", Dietrich mutters with a grim expression. "He'd better", Troy growls. "I'm sorry for never looking back and seeing ... you know", he waves his hand in the general direction of the oil field, "all that." The German sighs wearily. "Troy. What separates us is that I tend to think about the consequences for myself, my allies as well as my enemies before and after making a decision and taking an action, while you do neither. It has given you an advantage in many situations, but it is not an attitude I am comfortable with." Although feeling affronted at first, Sam Troy sees some truth in the assessment and that he has to agree with the younger Captain. "Didn't your friend tell you that you're too chivalrous for your own good?" "Aren't you supposed to play that role at the moment?", the German counters dryly. Troy smiles widely in reply and pats the taller man on his uninjured shoulder. "You bet, Captain." Tully raises his eyebrows briefly, but decides he neither needs nor wants to know what is going on between Sarge and Cap and continues chewing on his matchstick instead.
"Is it safe down there, Captain?", Sergeant Williamson dares to ask Dietrich, once he feels sufficiently well-grounded and the superior officer has finished his banter with the American Sergeant. "Everything that could possibly have burned down there has most likely already been consumed. It should be safe now", the young German officer assesses based on basic logic and his own vast experience with such situations. We should retrieve their dog tags and bury", the Captain hesitates how to formulate this diplomatically, "what remains of your comrades' bodies." Several of the Australian soldiers eye him with worry, while others nod in agreement of the noble gesture toward the dead. "We'll get 'em dead meat tickets, alright", Sergeant Williamson agrees and Dietrich looks baffled at the expression. "Only the Yankees say 'dog tag', Sir", Kevin O'Donnell explains to the young Captain with a friendly smile who thanks him for the information. "Let's shake it then", Troy suggests and notes that the German officer still winces at the formulation. "You'll get used to it", he tries to console Dietrich who takes his seat next to Pettigrew again. "If I have to, I might eventually."
Tully does not bother to wait for the Australian Sergeant's car to take over the lead again. Now that they have reached their intended destination, he feels entitled to the leading position again, especially when having the Captain riding with him. As they bolt over the dune's ridge swiftly enough to slightly take off the ground, Dietrich grunts with pain, rubbing his ailing shoulder and commands rather indignantly: "Take more care where you are going, Private! You don't have to take the roughest possible path!" "Sorry, Cap", the Kentuckian mutters apologetically and shifts his matchstick to the left corner of his mouth as he reduces their speed slightly. The German officer sighs in exasperation over the driving style, the lack of proper conduct when dealing with an officer by dropping half of the rank title and the general attitude of the two Americans with him and mutters to himself in Platt: "Elk mutt sien egen Papp köhlen, Hans." "What did you say, Captain?", Troy inquires curiously. "It's Platt, Troy. Not the kind of German you need to learn. I said after making my bed, I'll have to lie in it. In High German 'Wie man sich bettet, so liegt man'", Dietrich replies with a tone that holds some self-mockery. He has chosen to walk this way, now he has the responsibility to walk it properly. The easy way out is for cowards, his father has after all imprinted in him. Troy struggles with repeating the German phrase and gets his efforts corrected several times. "Like 'Dietrich', 'sich' is not supposed to be pronounced as 'sick', but in the throaty way the Scots say 'Loch'." Their language banter passes the time to reach the burnt oil field with ease.
As Tully stops close to the first truck, Dietrich falls silent and eyes the surroundings warily, before getting out of the car. Troy jumps down from the back almost simultaneously and stays at the German's side who moves cautiously to the back of the Jeep. Then he pulls a strip of cloth from his belt pouch and folds it to be worn as a bandana around his neck. "Private, spill some gasoline on it!", the German orders coolly and Tully obeys his order with a surprised shift of his matchstick. Once he realises the Captain's intention, he takes his own bandana down from his neck and drenches it in gasoline as well. Reaching up however is something Dietrich's shoulder protests vehemently against. When Troy sees him flinch and a pained expression appear on the younger man's face, he quickly offers: "I can do that for you, Captain." Dietrich sighs, then replies: "I would appreciate that, Sergeant. I recommend you to also drench something to wear in front of your nose and mouth to help against the stench of burnt human flesh. It's better than nothing." Retching from a closeby Jeep where the Australians have not taken the German's circumspect measures, indicates that it is a good idea to follow his example. "Sergeant Williamson, order the men to wear some cloth drenched in gasoline in front of their mouths and noses to protect them against the stench!", Dietrich bellows his orders to the Australian who looks rather palid again in spite of his darker original skin color.
Bracing himself against what he will have to witness, the German officer carefully moves toward the truck's driver cabin. One does not require to be a coroner to recognize the remains of a human body inside. "Poor guy. Tough luck!", Troy comments next to the Captain. The fire has burnt the cord holding the soldier's identity discs completely and the metal has been burnt into the charred flesh. "You can show your aptitude with the knife, if you feel up to that, Sergeant", the German comments dryly. "And here I thought I'd see you use your saber", Troy retorts. "If I could use my main arm, I might consider it. But with my left I would only succeed in desecrating the soldier's corpse", the German counters wearily. "That's quite a convenient reply. Jack and Hitch are enjoying their holidays in sickbay. What kind of work attitude is that?", the American Sergeant jokes to calm his nerves, as he retrieves his father's knife and approaches the charred body. "Didn't your father tell you to do things yourself, if you want them done properly?", Dietrich asks dryly. "You know you should start wearing a rancher's hat with your riding boots, if you want to start quoting my father, Captain. That would make it really authentic", Troy counters with a smile. "Though, Ol' Mickey Troy was a full head shorter than you, but probably had twice your weight in muscle, since you're almost a flyweight." The German glares at him, indignated about the exaggeration. "You'd better focus more on working than talking, Sergeant, as we can agree that Maths is not your forte."
Retrieving the metal disc out of the dead soldier's chest proves to be a tough challenge that Troy manages after cutting out a piece of charred flesh along with the dog tag. Hans Dietrich averts his eyes at some point and instead studies the truck bed, where along with the charred residues of crates and the tarp covering the loaded materials, another soldier has been caught by the flames. Walking over to the dead man's body who seems to have tried to make it out at the back without success, the German officer sees a blackened metal chain around the men's neck where his uniform has been burnt off. Dietrich scowls now, as something strikes him as odd. He has been in the middle of the fray of enough burning vehicles and oil or ammunition depots to realize that somehow the bodies here have burnt too quickly and the fire seems to have come from the inside rather than the outside of the truck. With his curiosity and wariness triggered now, he climbs onto the burnt truck bed avoiding the dead soldier's body and searching around the remains of the crates instead. A piece of metal and a highly charred snippet of wire draw his attention.
"What is it, Captain?", Sam Troy inquires as he notices that Dietrich has crouched on the truck bed and started to scratch in the ashes with his own combat knife. "The whole explosion scenario seems dubious to me. I have no other proof than a burnt wire and piece of metal, but my suspicion is that somebody rigged the depot with explosives." "What makes you think that it was a trap, just because you find metal and wire? Those are all around in our supplies", the American Sergeant inquires with actual curiosity. "It's not the metal and wire that make me think so, but the position of the dead man's body. He tried to get out of the burning truck, when something increased the heat and possibly knocked him down, hindering him from fleeing the burning hell, I suspect an explosion inside the truck", the German Captain argues. "You're really good with that investigation stuff, as Hitch said. Might consider joining the police after the war", Troy suggests sounding almost impressed. "Back to being the Sheriff of Nottingham then", Dietrich retorts dryly, before his tone turns professional again: "We need to inform the others and I want to take a look at the other trucks and Jeeps as well. Take care of the man's dog tag in the meantime." "Sure, Cap", Tully who has joined them confirms the order, while Troy follows the German in jumping down from the truck bed and walking briskly toward the second truck Sergeant Williamson has just started to inspect, after the Australians have taken some time for their anti-stench preparation.
"Leave the bodies untouched for the moment, Sergeant, Privates!", Dietrich shouts his order and several Australians stop dead in their tracks. "What have you found, Captain?" The aboriginal Sergeant actually sounds nervous as he poses his question. "That they might have fallen victim to a trap. Some crates could have been rigged with explosives that detonated on the trucks." Daniel O'Donnell and his brother jump down from the truck bed immediately upon hearing that. "I want to take a look at the positions of the men's bodies to get an idea of what might have happened here, so don't move them for now", Dietrich orders sternly, before turning to conduct his investigation on the second truck. The sight of the soldier's body there is a terrible one, as the man seems to have been caught in the explosion that has literally blown up in his face, leaving little of his upper body intact. Fragments of a potential explosive device have stuck in his body and make the search for them easier though much more gruesome.
"I need your knife and your hand, Sergeant", the German Captain calls out and Troy joins him quickly. "Do you see these metal parts in the charred flesh, Troy?" The American nods and by now is truly grateful for the young officer's advice to cover their faces with the drenched cloth, as the stench of the burnt flesh would be horrific. "Remove them with the knife, if you can, without harming the body too much. I want to have a look at them, but the chances that my theory will be confirmed are quite high", Dietrich argues grimly. "You'll get your evidence, Captain. Hitch was actually right calling you Sherlock." "Spare me the insane collection of absurd nicknames. Why can't you Americans just use someone's name?", the German asks with irony and exasperation. "That's totally your fault. You say my pronunciation of your last name's horrible and I mustn't use your first name. So what else am I to do but use a nickname?", Troy argues with irony, glad for the distraction that takes his mind off the gruesome task of operating the metal pieces out of the charred body.
Hans Dietrich notices his intent and plays along, countering dryly: "Poor Troy. Would just staying with 'Captain' have been too much of an intellectual challenge?" "It would have been too little of an interesting challenge. I'd miss all these wonderful discussions otherwise and if you're honest with yourself and me, you'd miss them too, Captain", Troy argues with a grin that remains hidden behind his bandana. "I could gladly do without them and have reasonable discussions about sensible topics instead", the German argues. "You have to befriend Moffit for that, because it's not gonna happen with the rest of us", Troy counters. "I have not given up on the concept that you might yet learn some basic manners and contents, as otherwise our future path will not continue jointly in Europe, Sergeant", Dietrich holds against him. Troy looks up from his work and stares at him briefly, before inquiring with a smile that cannot be seen behind the cloth covering his face: "Did you just say that you actually want to stay with us and train us, Captain?" "The easy way out is for cowards", the German replies with a weary sigh. "I told you before you're anything but a coward", Sam Troy answers. "Looks like I've got most of the stuff out of the dead guy." "Excellent. Thank you, Sergeant", the Captain replies calmly, focusing on the situation at hand professionally.
With a similarly intent expression, as Jack Moffit has worn on the previous day, Hans Dietrich studies the collected pieces of metal and wire in his left palm for a full minute. Williamson, the O'Donnells and Pettigrew join him along with Troy and observe the tall officer curiously. Without sparing them a glance, the German Captain turns to walk to the burnt Jeeps and the bodies inside them or in their surroundings. One Jeep seems to have exploded itself, having been torn apart and landed on the sand at its side with his driver and gunner lying close by where they have been catapulted. A black trail leads from the wreck to a part of the depot which has then apparently caught fire. Dietrich nods, studies the other vehicles in the close vicinity of the burning depot. "Someone has laid a trap here, rigging the supply depot. That could have been von Stolberg's men or the SS, or even a German or Italian commando unit. I know that my men did no such thing, as long as they were still under my command. A few of the supply crates with oil or ammunition have been prepped with explosives that apparently have not been triggered immediately making this a really devious trap", Dietrich explains. "The bombs on the trucks exploded separately. And something must have exploded on the Jeep over there", he points to the burnt out vehicle lying at its side, "to turn it over and cause a wider fire when their petrol ran out and the flames reached the gasoline depot." "Does he do that often?", Daniel O'Donnell whispers to Troy. "Often enough that Hitch started calling him Captain Sherlock." The young Australian recognizes the reference immediately and grins widely, immediately whispering into his brother's ear to share the news.
"Can we bury them, now that we know what caused their deaths?", Sergeant Williamson inquires with a thoughtful expression. "Please do so, Sergeant", Dietrich replies with a slightly guilty expression. "But tread carefully. There could still be rigged supplies that have not been caught in the fire and explosions." "We'll take care, Captain Sherlock", Daniel O'Donnell confirms. "Troy!", Dietrich snaps indignantly at the American Sergeant who grins widely underneath his bandana. "You've earned that one, Captain." "Which part of 'spare me the nicknames' did I not formulate understandably enough for you to grasp?", the German growls. "You were talking about Americans, but they're actually Australians. A totally different country and unit. And they know this Sherlock Holmes character as well as the Brits themselves." "Of course, they do. It's part of British culture and should also be known in the rest of their commonwealth. After all, Sherlock Holmes has been widely known in Germany as well, before the Nazis forbid the books somewhen in the 1930s. I have seen several German movies in my youth", Dietrich argues. "Why were you so baffled by Hitch's citations then?", Troy inquires. "I have known it only in its German translation, not the English original", The German Captain replies. "You seem to forget that I have never been to either Great Britain or the United States." "Makes sense", Troy nods. "I still think you deserve that nickname." Dietrich glares at him, before remarking sarcastically: "It seems like I will get rid of it as little as I will of the rumor that I'm Marlene Dietrich's cousin." "You're Marlene Dietrich's cousin? Can I get an autograph, Captain?", Kevin O'Donnell asks incredulously and the German Captain merely performs a desperate facepalm with his shaking right hand, while Troy laughs heartily. "You initiated this one all by yourself, Captain."
When collecting the identification discs, they learn that Lieutenant Taylor is among the two victims of the Jeep's explosion which has also destroyed the unit's portable radio. Williamson appears to be particularly shocked to learn about the death of his officer and insists on burying him himself. To Dietrich's relief Private Lakatos, the safe cracker is not among the dead, and hopefully has managed an escape along with the other survivors wherever they may be now. Meanwhile after the identification discs have been collected and properly listed, the German Captain gives a proper and detailed report of their findings on the radio to an eager Captain Brown who has been waiting impatiently for news on his men's fate. The Australian officer is deeply saddened by the loss of his Lieutenant, but thanks his younger German colleague for his efforts and excellent investigative work, encouraging him to search for survivors, before he ends the call. When asked by the Australian Sergeant, Dietrich agrees to speak a few words in honor of the fallen at their graves. The Australian soldiers listen with their bush hats held in their hands, before firing the final three salves of salute to honor their comrades.
Once all the bodies of the unfortunate victims of the trap have been buried, Dietrich gathers the Sergeants for a situation briefing. "We have no news from our aerial surveillance yet", the German announces with a grim expression. "I therefore suggest that we try to find their trail by scouting the area in separate directions for the next hour." Williamson agrees with him that this is their only option for increasing their search radius. "We meet again here at 1200", Dietrich orders. "You also have a radio on your Jeep, Sergeant. Should you run into trouble or our quarry, contact us immediately! And so will we." "Aye, Captain", the Aussie confirms. "Let's shake it then!", Troy chimes in and watches the German tense visibly. Overcoming his long-ingrained subconscious reaction will still take its time.
Tully drives their Jeep out into the southwest and Hans Dietrich remains in a stance of constant vigilance, scanning the dunes for any visible trails and checking the sky for the sight of scavengers. Even Troy focuses on the surroundings and tries to make something out. "Feels like searching for a needle in a haystack, Captain", the American Sergeant mutters slightly discontent. "Die Suche nach der Nadel im Heuhaufen" the German Captain agrees, but does not stop in his search. When Troy rather clumsily repeats the sentence, the German intervenes: "It is neither that hard nor that different from the English expression. 'Nadel' means 'needle', 'Suche' is 'search' and 'Heu' is 'hay'." "It still sounds like I'm sneezing when suffering from the flu", Troy complains. "Possibly I'm not qualified in any way to serve as your language teacher. You're thus invited, Sergeant, to trustingly turn to Sergeant Moffit instead." "Now don't be so impatient, Captain. This German is just sounding pretty weird", Troy complains. "German is still rather close to English. If you want weird sounding languages try Arabic, Hungarian or French", Dietrich counters dryly, before focusing on his scrutiny of the surroundings again.
Just below a ridge, Dietrich signs the driver to stop to allow him to get a better overview from the top of the dune without exposing the vehicle. Troy steps next to the lean officer and hands him the binoculars unbidden, as he sees the younger man squinting. "Thank you, Sergeant", the German Captain mutters, but tenses immediately, when turning off the Jeep's motor allows him to hear the roar of a plane close by. As they all look up, they can make out the Hawker Hurricane dive down toward them. On instinct and to be rather safe than sorry, Hans Dietrich throws himself in the sand and Sam Troy follows suit only a split second later.
"Has this insane idiot completely lost his mind?", the German growls indignantly, as David Troy's plane narrowly misses the dune's ridge in a risky maneuver. "That's Davey for you, Captain. He's always been the crazy, daring, careless one compared to me", Sam Troy explains with a grin. "Look who's talking", Dietrich mutters with sarcasm, as he struggles back to his feet in the shifting sand. "Sieht den Splitter im Auge seines Bruders, aber nicht den Balken im eigenen Auge." "More German lessons?", Troy asks with a grin, getting up as well. "You might not like this one, Sergeant. It means you see the mote in your brother's eye, but not the beam in your own", the Captain replies with smooth sarcasm. "You're a smartass, Dietrich. Just as bad as Moffit. I wonder why you're not friends with him yet?", Troy counters with irony. "That's probably because I'm still alive and Moffit prefers his officer friends rather dead and mummified", the German deadpans and Sam Troy bursts out laughing.
Looking after the circling plane with a scowl, Hans Dietrich mutters: "I wonder if he wants to draw our attention. Has nobody told the Brits that radios have been invented already?" Beaming with mirth, Sam Troy puts a hand on his left shoulder lightly. "You're probably right. We'd better start following him, before he crashes his plane into our Jeep the next time he tries to catch our attention." Raising his eyebrows in an ironic manner, the German Captain comments: "Would he really be crazy enough? Oh yes. I almost forgot that he is your brother." "Can't deny that", the older Troy brother laughs at the younger officer's unnerved expression.
"Follow the plane, Private Pettigrew!", Dietrich orders matter-of-factually, as he gets into the Jeep and takes his seat next to the Kentucky driver. "Aye, Cap", the American soldier nods and starts the engine as soon as Troy has clambered into the back. Biting down on his matchstick, Tully concentrates on finding an acceptable way through the dunes, while Dietrich sometimes corrects his direction with a precise command, as the German Captain keeps his eyes constantly trained on the aircraft.
Ten minutes later the plane has started to circle a location and Dietrich orders Tully to stop before the dune's ridge to approach whatever is behind it in a more careful manner. As soon as they have stopped, both Troy and Pettigrew draw their Thompson guns from their holster and the lean German officer briefly tenses involuntarily at the action that has always meant a serious threat for him in the past. Forcing himself to slightly relax his tense stance, the Captain turns to make his way up the dune instead. He does have an obligation to the Australian soldiers of the LRDP after all.
As Dietrich reaches the top with the two Americans closely at his heels, a shot rings out and a bullet flies barely over his head. Well-honed reflexes have the German officer drop to the ground immediately to get out of target range. Troy and Pettigrew act similarly close behind him. Another shot rings out but passes much less narrowly over their heads. "Hold your fire. We're from the LRDP", Dietrich bellows in his practiced command tone. The soldiers seem to hesitate briefly, then someone shouts with a thick Australian accent: "Show yourselves! We got ye covered. No tricks." Sighing wearily at the expression, the German officer shouts back. "No tricks, soldier. We're standing up now. Don't shoot!" To his two men the Captain whispers: "Leave your guns on the ground. They sound nervous enough to shoot at the slightest provocation." "You've got enough practice after all with these truces, don't you, Captain?", Troy comments with a wink, but leaves his gun on the ground. When recognizing their American uniforms the Australians finally lower their guns.
"That's Captain Dietrich and Sergeant Troy", the American truck driver from their own unit shouts with enthusiasm and comes running towards them. "You've come to search for us, Sir?", he inquires, as he meets Dietrich and his men at the bottom of the dune. "Yes, Private Lancing", Dietrich replies calmly and Troy eyes the German Captain with a certain amount of admiration, as he would not have been able to produce the man's name in spite of having served with him for months, but admittedly mostly been out on patrol duty. The American Sergeant realizes that he knows more about the German officer and already has before his defection than he knows about most of the men from other patrol units, never having bothered with them. That Dietrich has diligently learned the names of the men of the unit he has briefly commanded instead of Captain Boggs should not be a surprise, but points out the German Captain's professional attitude rather well. Lancing beams when being addressed with his name and Dietrich notes with relief that this serves to further relax the nervous soldiers around. "Report what has happened, Private!", the Captain orders with a carefully schooled calm and neutral tone and expression. The American soldier provides his report to which some of the Australians sometimes add additional observations or corrections. Overall their description of the incident fits the German's deduced sequence of events rather adequately. Even though they have been confused and sometimes caught in the middle of the action which has kept them from realizing what has happened elsewhere they nonetheless help to confirm his theory and round up the picture rather well.
Lancing also reports that the broken axis of the truck has grounded them out here where they have still discussed how to continue, when the British plane has passed over them and they have decided to rather stay together and wait for their rescue than try something desperate and foolish. Tully immediately offers to help with the truck's repair, an offer which Hans Dietrich gratefully accepts. Then, the diligent officer registers the Australians' names for his report, while Troy runs back to retrieve their guns and Jeep. A smile passes over the German Captain's face, as Private Michael Lakatos declares his name. "Private, I will require you for a special mission to accompany my unit to the desert fort. I suppose Captain Brown has informed you that I find myself in need of your special skillset", the tall officer argues smoothly. "Capt'n Browny told me you need a SS safe opened and someone trained in my special handiwork, Captain", the soldier replies with a sly grin. Dietrich considers the additional option of having one of his men pick up on this skill and realises that this is an excellent opportunity given what General Atkins has in mind for him and his unit. "I gladly accept your offer to share your skills in addition to providing a valuable service to the LRDP, Private", the German officer replies with the politeness due for an officer of his rank. "Blimey. I'm looking forward to working with you and your lads, Captain. You're famous after all", the young Australian replies. "I'll just grab my stuff. Then, I'll join you." Dietrich briefly indulges in the fantasy of switching the cooperative Aussie against Hitchcock, the most troublesome junior Rat, before Troy's arrival with the Jeep draws him out of his musings. The American Sergeant would never agree with losing his favourite junior patrol member.
Slightly astonished, Troy watches how the German officer walks straight to the radio set and starts operating switches and buttons in a natural way, as if he has never done anything else. "Tully broke you in", the Sergeant comments casually and the Captain eyes him with slight exasperation. "Indeed, he instructed me and showed me the specifications of your mobile sets, as I have often operated radios before, especially during my time as an observation officer with the artillery." Troy looks almost sheepish for not having considered that and the fact that someone who has learned the operation, command and warfare of tanks within two months from his sickbed must have some technical affinity. Not bothering with the Sergeant's reaction, Dietrich starts his call of Sergeant Williamson's mobile unit. The aboriginal Australian sounds delighted at the news that the survivors have been found. Enthusiastically he assures the German Captain that he will meet the other patrol Jeeps at the arranged meeting point and then direct them to the location Dietrich has described in detail.
After ending the call, the German Captain switches the radio frequency and calls their base camp. This time Captain Brown sounds truly delighted and relieved at the news of the discovery of the survivors. "You've earned a bottle of my best whiskey for sure, Captain Dietrich. See you later. Blue Koala out", Browny announces with delight. When Troy sees the German officer scowl at this declaration, he laughs. "You look like he's trying to poison you." "Considering my previous experience with his dubious moonshine, it sounds like this is his intention", Dietrich growls sarcastically. "You can always use it as a reward for your faithful merry men, if you don't trust the stuff to drink it yourself, Captain", the American Sergeant suggests with a grin. "So that they come up with even more reckless ideas than jumping into snake pits at night? I think I will pass", the German Captain replies with dry sarcasm.
Finished with the senseless discussion, the tall young officer stalks back toward the camp of the Australian survivors where Tully is testing the improvised repair of the truck's axes. "Any success with the repairs, Private?", Dietrich asks with his brow creased in concern. "Almost finished, Cap", the Kentucky driver replies. The German folds his arms behind his back and observes the repair works briefly, before one of the Australian soldiers approaches him with a sheepish expression. "Captain", the young man bites his lip and eyes the lean German with apprehension. Dietrich raises his eyebrows in a silent question, then asks out loud: "What can I do for you, Private?" "Do you have a med kit with your unit, Sir?", the soldier inquires with an expression speaking of his insecurity.
The German officer cocks his head slightly and observes the young man intently. "We have a med kit with us, specifically for taking care of you and your comrades. What ails you, Private?" The Australian takes off his jacket and reveals a severe burn along his lower right arm from his wrist to his elbow. Dietrich furrows his eyebrows and studies the injury with concern before giving a stern order to Troy. "Retrieve the med kit, Sergeant. We require a burn lotion and disinfectant to apply beforehand." The American Sergeant looks almost relieved to have the German officer with his experience in treating various injuries around, since he is missing Jack Moffit who would be his usual source of expertise and Tully who is occupied taking care of the motorised patient, the truck with the broken axis. In a subconscious gesture the young Captain reaches for his collarbone and moves the tips of his fingers over the scars left after the burns from the SS torture. To quit smoking would have appeared unimaginable for him before that experience, the German muses, yet he has not missed cigarettes for a single moment since that day. Troy observes the lean young officer's unintentional gesture with some concern. Having treated him after his rescue, the American Sergeant is well aware of the Captain's freshly healed injuries and the torture that has been responsible for it. Also Troy has a good idea how hard treating this particular type of injury must be for Dietrich in the light of his past experiences, given the German's reaction after being offered a single cigarette and the fact that Troy has never seen the chronic chain smoker with appreciation for American cigarettes smoke since his defection. Shoving memories of Metzlich and his SS torture to the back of his mind through conscious effort, Dietrich keeps his tone well-measured between professional care and concern for the soldier's wellbeing as he instructs Sergeant Troy calmly on every step of the required treatment. Encouraged after their comrade's experience, three more Aussies approach the strange duo of medical helpers to ask for assistance.
By the time that Troy and Dietrich are finished with their treatment of the wounded, Tully has managed to get the broken down truck back running and checked on the second truck, when the sounds of the approaching Jeeps of their Australian allies are audible. The decision for a shared lunch for all troops present is an easy one, as the relief about their rescue has let the survivors' appetite return and the rescuers are equally glad to get something into their stomachs after the sickening experience at the burnt supply depot. Hans Dietrich goes through his memorised maps in his mind, as he plans their best route toward Sheikh Sulaiman's desert town, while the enlisted men take care of the meal preparations. When Tully hands him the plate with his share of the lunch, the Captain thanks him and takes a seat with the Private in the shade provided by their Jeep. There, the German explains his intended route to the American driver who listens carefully, nodding a few times while ladling his own lunch. Sam Troy sits down with them as well, munching on his food and listening to the Captain's described route, as the young officer draws a crude sketch into the sand with a slightly shaking right hand.
"You have all your maps memorized in your head, Captain?", the American Sergeant finally asks incredulously. "For the most part, yes. At least the ones I require frequently at any given point in time. I could not tell you the details of the maps of my Polish or French missions anymore, Sergeant. But memorizing maps has proven necessary, as often with quickly shifting lines and battle situations here in North Africa consulting a map would have been too time-consuming and provided enemy units with a good opportunity to attack. Also, for an artillery observer to plan and observe, knowledge of the geographical situation has always been advantageous", Dietrich explains matter-of-factually. Learning maps by heart only to erase them from his short-term memory and replace them with new maps has become second nature to him since the start of the war and his actual frontline service as an officer without giving the ability to do so a second thought. "That's impressive, Cap", Tully Pettigrew is the one to actually voice what both he and Troy are thinking. The Captain shrugs almost nonchalantly. "A necessity for my job." The American Sergeant and Private exchange glances, but leave the German officer in peace who obviously cannot imagine that this would not be a normal behaviour for others.
After finishing lunch, the last preparations for the return are made. Still relieved and overjoyed at the rescue of his soldiers, Sergeant Williamson looks like he would like to hug the German officer and the Captain takes a few steps to the side for good measure, not trusting the Allied soldiers anymore to keep their emotions in check after his experiences of the previous days. After checking on the state of all vehicles, the tall, lean Captain is satisfied that all are in good enough working conditions to be able to make it back to the camp in one piece. "Private Lakatos will accompany us to the Bedouin town, Sergeant Williamson", Dietrich informs the Australian soldier with a serious expression. "I trust that you will be able to handle your men to bring them back to the camp in one piece." The aboriginal Australian salutes properly, as he answers: "I will assure that they all return safely, Captain." Dietrich returns the salute with some struggling and a slightly pained expression, although he tries to hide his distress. "I will see you in the camp then after our return", the German officer says smoothly. "Take care, Captain." Williamson replies with a concerned expression.
As he walks by the Australian troops, the German officer can make out a few whispers that sound suspiciously like "Captain Sherlock". Gritting his teeth, the Captain decides to dedicate some time to the contemplation of the question of what would be an adequate punishment for Hitchcock and Troy to have landed him with yet another absurd nickname. Marcello has the excuse of being a stage performer more than a serious officer, but the ridiculous Americans have no such excuse whatsoever. In addition, they are merely soldiers and not even officers. "What's bugging you?", Troy asks curiously, as he sees the German Captain get into the Jeep's front seat with furrowed brows. Brown eyes meet blue ones, as the young officer gives an almost roguish smirk. "Quid pro quo, or as you would term it 'tit for tat', Sergeant." Troy looks truly baffled by the words. "What's that supposed to mean, Captain?" "I have instructed you specifically and repeatedly to spare me the usage and invention of absurd nicknames, Sergeant, only to find the Australians happily applying your latest invention after your less than subtle way of distributing it", the German admonishes with irony. "Thus, I find myself contemplating what would possibly ingrain my message in you in such a way that I do not find you repeating the same impossible behaviour again and again, Sergeant." Troy briefly stares at him dumbfounded, before he counters with a smirk. "You know with all those fancy words you sound like Jack Moffit with an American accent." "After his Robin Hood and the merry men episode, I have to count him among your ranks of evildoers as well. Only Pettigrew's truly reliable." Tully stares at the German for a few seconds perplexedly, before grinning so widely that he almost loses his matchstick. "Thanks, Cap!" While watching their banter, the Australian Private Lakatos hides an amused smile behind his hand, pretending to cough. After the stories heard in camp about the German Captain he has been quite curious about the man. As of now, he and his Rat Patrol are even more hilarious than the stories have given them credit for. The O'Donnell brothers would hear all about this, as soon as he is back.