Chapter 8: Moffitt's Melancholy

"What the heck was that?" Troy angrily demanded of his fellow sergeant, Jack Moffitt. The Englishman had almost blown their mission by continuing to fire on a German convoy when Troy had ordered them to disengage and get to safety. It was only by the grace of God that Tully hadn't been hit, leaving his jeep Bertha to take several slugs along her side. Knowing Tully, he would have rather taken the bullets to spare his beloved jeep. They had found refuge in a wadi and Tully was inspecting the damage while Hitch quickly filled the gas tanks and radiators.

"I apologize, Troy," Moffitt said softly. "I'm not sure what came over me," he walked away from the others where he could sit on a rock and gather his thoughts. He rubbed his forehead and temples, as he seemed to be fighting an intense emotion.

"Go easy on him, Sarge," Tully spoke to Troy. "He hasn't been himself lately. He's been kinda quiet."

"Yeah, Sarge, he's got something going on that he's brooding about," Hitch added.

"Brooding?" Troy questioned.

"Sure," Hitch replied. "Moffitt broods when he's got something on his mind, you just stew in your own juices." The private popped a bubble to hide his grin.

"Really?" Troy gave them a look they knew all too well.

"It's true, Sarge," Tully chimed in helping Hitch take care of the jeeps. "He'll talk about it when he's ready."

"As long as he doesn't endanger our next mission," Troy was not happy, yet concerned for his English friend. "Let's move out. We can make base before sundown." Moffitt stood and stretched before joining Tully in the jeep. He didn't say a word.

Once at base, the sergeants reported to Captain Boggs while the privates took the jeeps to the motor pool and restocked supplies. They showered and changed into fresh uniforms, but it was still a while until dinner would be served. Moffitt had disappeared and the three gathered to discuss their missing teammate.

"Any clue as to what's bothering him?" Troy asked Tully.

"No idea. It started early this morning, but I don't know what's on his mind," Tully answered.

Well, we have a recon mission in the morning. I hope he's figured out whatever he's brooding about," Troy made eye contact with Hitch.

"Maybe we should ask him?" Hitch suggested. "I've found it always helps me when you guys listen to my problems."

"Yeah, but your problems are usually about girls," Tully teased, and Hitch shrugged in agreement.

"Any idea where he might be?" Troy asked.

"Sure," Tully said. "We all have a place where we like to be alone and think."

"Really?" Troy was skeptical.

"Sure Sarge, you like to have a cigarette over by that little ring of date palms by the back gate," Hitch replied. "Tully prefers the motor pool."

"Hitch used to have a spot outside the main gate but now he seems to favor the shade of the palm tree next to the motor pool where we used to picnic with Isla," Tully explained, and Hitch nodded.

"So where is Moffitt?" Troy asked again.

"Roof of headquarters," the two privates said in unison.

"He likes to watch the sunrise or sunset from there," Tully added.

"Let's go," Troy said, and they headed to find their fellow Rat.

Moffitt was right where they said he would be. He was sitting on the edge of the wall staring out into the desert.

"I thought you might come and find me," he said with a sigh. "I do apologize for my earlier actions. I just lost my head for a few moments."

Troy sat next to Moffitt while the two younger men sat down on the roof in front of them.

"Want to share what's going on?" Troy spoke softly. Moffitt was quiet for a few moments and sighed again before talking.

"Today is Ian's birthday," his voice was just above a whisper and his companions hung their heads as they let it sink in. Moffitt's teenage brother had not long ago been killed in a London air raid.

"I keep thinking about all the things he never got to do and now has no opportunity to do so." Moffitt was wistful.

"What are some of the things you did together?" Hitch asked quietly.

"I used to help him with his studies. We enjoyed long hikes and riding horses together. He was . . .," Moffitt had to pause a moment. "He was so full of life." Moffitt had to stop and regain control of his emotions.

"Were you much alike?" Tully questioned.

"In some ways. He was more outgoing than me. Not as serious. He preferred novels and comic books to serious reading." Moffitt gave a small smile. "He was quite good with the horses; I think better than I. We would race against one another with him usually the victor." The others smiled encouragingly.

"He was a lot of fun and had a lot of friends. People were just drawn to him by his personality. He was an old soul in a young body, with a great sense of humor," Moffitt continued.

"You were a lot older than he was," Troy remarked. "It must have been quite a surprise when he came along."

"For my parents as well. I think he was quite the surprise for them," Moffitt was caught in the memory. "I remember being embarrassed around my friends since he was living proof that my parents still shared intimacy." This made the others smile.

"It's just such a bloody waste," Moffitt's mood changed. "He should be going on dates and getting into trouble with his friends. He should be preparing for Cambridge and learning to drive a car." Moffitt began to pace, and the others stood. "He should be anywhere but a bloody cemetery!" Moffitt lip was trembling, and it was taking all his British reserve to keep himself under control. Troy squeezed his friend's shoulder.

"He never got to go on one of my Dad's digs. He never got to travel abroad because of this bloody, stupid, war. He never got to go out to a pub with his mates and share a pint. He never, he never," Moffitt was breaking down as tears spilled onto his cheeks. Hitch squeezed Jack's other shoulder.

"It's okay," Tully said wrapping his arms around the sergeant in a bear hug. "We're here for you. We know you're hurting and we're here for you." Moffitt cried quietly for a few moments but then, the British stiff upper lip pulled him together.

"I'm all right," he whispered, wiping away the tears and straightening his posture. The men released their grips and watched their suffering friend, deeply concerned for his loss. "Thank you," Moffitt's voice was barely audible. "I miss him so much but I'm grateful I have your support.

"Anytime, buddy," Troy said. "How about we get some dinner and then go raise some pints to your brother at Remy's?"

"I'd like that," Moffitt agreed. The first round is on me.