Author's Note: Another idea inspired by conversations on texaslass2000's blog.

Hans Dietrich considered himself to be a man of faith, which made his latest idea to try and stop the Rat Patrol a bit of a surprise to anyone who knew him well. He thoroughly loved this idea, for many reasons. His lieutenant, however, was a bit nervous when he saw the skinny captain approaching his desk with a rather devilish grin on his face. Dietrich took a sip from his cup of coffee before sitting at his desk, continuing to grin up at Lieutenant Wintsch. "Normally, I would strongly advise against anyone trying to play God. Tonight, I am going to play God."

Wintsch blinked. "Sir? I thought we were trying to make sure the convoy got through to Colonel Lehning's headquarters tomorrow."

Dietrich nodded. "Oh, we are, but do you recall in Exodus, when Moses was leading his people through the parted Red Sea? The Egyptians tried to follow in their chariots, when suddenly, the wheels on their chariots all but vanished." That grin spread across Dietrich's face again, wider and more mischievous. "Now, I am not going to make the Rats' tires disappear mid-battle. I wish I could sometimes, but that is impossible. However, I am going to make their chariots' wheels disappear—just in a different way."

Wintsch glanced around, looking as though he was tempted to question Dietrich's sanity. "And how to you propose we accomplish that, sir?"

"Tonight, we are going to locate where the Rats are camped out, and we are going to take their tires, and their spares." Dietrich set his coffee down, and gestured to his map. "One of our couriers spotted them a few miles east of here. Allied lines are much further east, but they will still be within radio range of their people. And us, if they wish to try and get their tires back."

Wintsch, again, didn't look sure how to respond to this. "Is this wise, sir? It seems very…"

"Insane? Yes, but Sergeant Troy is equally insane. Without the jeeps, he would still try to pursue us on foot. On foot, he will never catch up to us. We will get to the colonel's headquarters long before the Rats do."

"I understand that, sir, but could we not try something more…" Wintsch trailed off.

"It has been proven time and time again that confronting the Rats directly generally ends in disaster. Therefore, we must get creative."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"This feels more like a… prank."

"It does, but it is a useful prank. I want you to get six of our best mechanics together, and we will head out later this evening. Dismissed."

"Yes, Herr Hauptmann."

The six chosen mechanics seemed delighted at the idea of going out on a mission. They were all instructed to remove the Rats' tires as quietly as they could, and although they doubted if that was even possible, they were willing to try anyway. Their gear was thoroughly greased and lubricated to prevent squeaking, but there was no accounting for how well-oiled the nuts and bolts holding the jeep tires in place were. Dietrich knew the Rats well enough to say that Privates Hitchcock and Pettigrew took very good care of the jeeps, but there was no telling how much of a toll the desert conditions had taken on their equipment. A few squeaks and creaks were to be expected.

Dietrich ordered his men into a truck later that night and parked it a fair distance away from the little campsite the Rats had set up. The truck was hidden by a dune, and the downhill slope between the Rats' camp and the truck meant getting the tires out would be fairly easy. The eight Germans made their way closer and closer to the campsite. There was an unobstructed half-moon in the sky, providing a bit of natural light. The occasional call of a fox or jackal could be heard. At the crest of a dune, Dietrich lay on his stomach and raised his binoculars. The campfire was not nearly as bright as it probably was a few hours ago. It was now a few smoldering embers and glowing, blackened sticks. He could see Sergeant Troy laying by one of the jeeps, fast asleep. Sergeant Moffitt was nearest to the campfire, all curled up. Something long and black was coiled up on Moffitt—the Egyptian cobra, Anah. Private Pettigrew was asleep by the other jeep, his Thompson submachine gun nearby. Private Hitchcock was on watch, sitting close to Moffitt, and looking ready to drop off.

"That snake," Wintsch whispered. "She will sense us coming, won't she?"

"As long as we do not wake her, it will be fine," Dietrich whispered back. "And especially, especially do not touch Sergeant Moffitt."

"What will we do about the one on watch, sir?"

"There is a blanket in my backpack. Put it over yourself like a cloak and wander around like a civilian. Do not act threatening. Act lost or confused. He will follow you."

"Yes, sir." Wintsch took out the blanket and began wrapping it around himself. In the darkness, his thin form covered in the darker blanket made him look less human and almost shapeless. Dietrich then ordered him to go. Wintsch stayed far enough away to not give away who he really was, and he played the act of lost and confused very well.

Dietrich watched Hitch stand up. The young American picked up his Thompson and cautiously began heading over to where Wintsch was shuffling along. The campsite was wide open. "Alright, go!" Dietrich and the mechanics quickly made their way to the jeeps, as silently as they could.

It was easy to tell whose jeep was whose; Troy and Hitch's smelled strongly of cigarettes and bubblegum. Moffitt and Tully's smelled heavily of tea. Dietrich assisted with getting the tires removed from Troy and Hitch's jeep first. It wasn't at all hard to tell that Troy was a deep and noisy sleeper. How could anyone hear the Germans working with how loud he was snoring? Dietrich found it greatly irritating, but he took advantage of the noise and kept working.

He was impressed that they had been able to pull this off so far. He grinned to himself while helping lower the first jeep to the ground, now deprived of tires. The mechanics dashed back to the truck, rolling the tires alongside them. Dietrich looked down at the still sleeping—and snoring—Troy, and found himself greatly tempted to act juvenile and taunt Troy to rub this in his face. But, Dietrich reminded himself that he was an officer and a gentleman, and doing such things would be very unbecoming and extremely disrespectful of him. Then again, this whole plan felt a bit silly overall. That didn't mean it wasn't working, though.

When Dietrich went to help with the other jeep, he froze when he saw Moffitt shifting the corner of his eye. The lanky Englishman stretched out, making a soft sound. Anah moved, too, putting her head on Moffitt's. Dietrich quietly urged both of them to stay asleep, then crept over to the other jeep. The mechanics had already gotten two tires off, plus the spare, leaving just two to go.

How have they just slept through this? Dietrich thought. Surely, something would have roused them by now. He decided he wasn't going to question that, and assisted with getting the last two tires off. The mechanics rolled them away, leaving Dietrich alone in the middle of the campsite, looking over the sleeping Rats and their now wheelless jeeps. A pang of guilt prodded inside Dietrich's stomach. He bit his lip and argued with himself before going and getting several canteens of water to leave in the jeeps, just in case. After satisfying his conscience, Dietrich looked over the Rats again, and focused on Troy. He could no longer stand the sound of Troy's snoring, and even though he was going to be heading back to his own lines, Dietrich began moving Troy until he was no longer snoring. He was very impressed that Troy didn't even wake up, but decided not to stick around anymore, and bolted back toward the truck.

Wintsch was at the wheel, grinning broadly. "I had my doubts, Herr Hauptmann, but it actually worked! We did it!"

Dietrich squeezed the lieutenant's shoulder. "Yes, now get us back to our own camp, quickly!"

The first thing Moffitt heard as he began waking up in the morning was Troy swearing in Greek. He slowly sat up, jaws parted in a silent yawn. "Troy? What the bloody hell are you getting so bothered by?"

"Open your eyes and look," Troy growled. "This is just… just great."

"Oh. Oh, dear," Anah said after slithering up to Moffitt's shoulders.

Moffitt glanced between Troy's jeep and his own. "Where'd the bloody tires go?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" Troy said. "They were there last night when we went to sleep!" He kicked a rock, uttering another string of Greek curses.

Tully came out from behind his and Moffitt's jeep. "Even the spares are gone."

"We've got a damn German convoy to catch, and now we can't, because someone went and stole our—" Troy sighed, biting back another curse. "Someone went and stole our tires."

Moffitt looked over at Hitch. "You were on watch last night. Did you see anything out of the ordinary?"

"There was this civilian wandering around," Hitch said. "They were too far for me to see if it was a man or a woman. They were dressed in a cloak—well, it looked like a cloak. They kept getting scared each time I got close. I was worried something was wrong. They led me all the way to the wadi north of here, and then disappeared."

"The desert is known for playing tricks on the mind," Moffitt said. "Either that, or it was something supernatural. Not much is known about what lives out here, especially at night."

"It didn't seem dangerous. I felt bad for it, really. Weird, though. I came back and didn't even notice anything wrong with the jeeps." An embarrassed look came over Hitch's face when he turned to Troy. "I'm sorry, Sarge. I should've been paying more attention."

Troy had calmed down a little, but it was still plainly obvious that he was very unhappy. "The fire was mostly out when we got up this morning, and there's no reason to believe that someone would just come and steal the tires." He looked at Moffitt. "You said there're supernatural critters that live here?"

"Yes," Moffitt said. "Why?"

"Could they have stolen our tires without us noticing?"

"Possibly. I did say that we don't know much about what lives here."

Troy turned to Anah. "And how about you? You were here for two thousand years. What do you know about things that steal tires?"

"Nothing," Anah said. "I am also not convinced it was a creature."

"Oh?"

"For one thing, look in the jeeps, dear. There is something that was not there before."

Troy went over to his jeep, and pulled out a canteen. He was quiet for a long moment. "German canteen."

Moffitt glanced at Anah, then back at Troy. "I think it is safe to assume… an old friend of ours stole our tires."

"Dietrich." Troy set the canteen down and rubbed his face. "Damn it, Dietrich."

"Now what, Sarge?" Hitch asked.

"We'll figure it out." Troy sighed again before getting the radio out of his jeep. "Boggs isn't going to believe this."

Moffitt began preparing his morning tea while Troy explained the situation to Captain Boggs over the radio. With much disappointment, the original mission was scrapped. The German convoy would go free. Troy wasn't happy in the slightest, but at least he seemed calmer than before. He sat with the others when breakfast was served, saying, "Well, we've been told to sit tight and some guys will be here in a couple of hours with new tires."

"How far from Dietrich's camp are we, Sarge?" Tully asked.

"About the same distance from our own. Too far to walk."

"May I ask why you're enquiring about Dietrich's camp, Troy?" Moffitt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Troy took a moment to think, then said, "Oh, no reason."

"You're not thinking of revenge, are you?"

"No. That's just tasteless and petty."

"Are you thinking about asking for the tires back?"

"Maybe. He's not gonna have a use for them, because they won't fit any of his vehicles, unless he's planning on trading them to the Arabs for food."

"In that case, maybe it's better to let Dietrich have them, and wait for new tires of our own."

"Those tires were still in good shape. No one above us is going to want to learn that we just had all that rubber stolen."

Moffitt wasn't too keen on confronting Dietrich to get the tires back, but he knew that Troy wasn't likely to let this go. "Alright, but we're going to do this diplomatically."

Dietrich touched the tiny flame of his lighter to the end of his cigarette after sitting at his desk. He allowed himself to smile again while thinking of the phone call he had just gotten off of with Colonel Lehning, who said that this was the first complete convoy he had received in several months. Lehning was impressed and planned on passing the news on to Field-Marshal Rommel. He was even more impressed with the fact that Dietrich had pulled off such a ridiculous and risky plan. In turn, Dietrich was beginning to wonder if he could turn the tide against the Rats.

Lieutenant Wintsch peered into the tent. "Sir? There is… someone here to see you."

"Who?" Dietrich asked.

"Well…" Wintsch nervously stepped aside, revealing four men and a snake standing outside. The tallest and thinnest of the men was holding a white flag.

Dietrich sighed, exhaling a great deal of smoke. "Let them in." He stood to address the Rats, and noticed their rather unhappy expressions. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" Dietrich asked. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, but he kept his grinning in check.

"I think you know, Captain," Troy said. "We had some items missing this morning. Wondered if you knew where they went."

"Perhaps. What I am curious about is how you got here so quickly without proper transportation."

"We got replacements."

"So, if you received replacements, why are you here, Sergeant?"

"Those tires are of no use to you. We'd still like them back."

Dietrich took another draw on his cigarette. "And do you have anything you would like to offer me in exchange?"

"No," Troy said. "We just want the tires back, and we'll leave without shooting up your camp."

Dietrich glared at him. "Is that a threat, Sergeant?"

"Maybe."

"I could imprison all of you right now for that. You are outnumbered here." Dietrich's gaze switched to Anah when he saw the black cobra's hood spreading. "No harm would come to you, so long as you do not fight."

"Make this easy on everyone, Captain," Troy said. "Your convoy got away thanks to you snatching our tires. Let us take them back."

"Is there a word you are forgetting, Sergeant? Or did your mother not teach you manners?"

In spite of the intense desert heat, Dietrich felt bitterly cold when Troy's expression hardened. Clearly, something he said struck a deep, sensitive nerve with him. Troy's voice dropped to a growl. "Give us the damn tires."

"Alright, that's enough," Moffitt said. "I have something we can give him in exchange for the tires."

"What?" Troy asked.

"Antivenom for snakebite."

Dietrich thought for a moment. He figured that was more than a fair trade. "Alright. You can have your tires back."

Troy relaxed a little. "Thanks, Captain." Before leaving the tent, he paused, turning back to Dietrich and saying, "You do realize we're going to have to keep an eye out for you stealing our tires every night now."

"I can assure you that is not likely to happen again. However, I am more concerned that you will try the same trick on me."

"Nah. Too many vehicles to do that with." Troy went to leave, and turned back one last time. "Oh, by the way, thanks for the water."

Dietrich hesitated for a moment before responding. "You are welcome, Sergeant." He stayed standing while watching Troy leave. The delight of mischief that he had felt earlier was gone, and he found himself thinking of a passage from Proverbs that he made himself memorize before he had gone to France at the beginning of the war: Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth, and let not thine heart be glad when he stumbleth. He resumed smoking his cigarette. He knew getting creative was the key to dealing with the Rats, and as amusing as taking the tires was—especially since no one got hurt—he dreaded the idea of actually hurting one of them.

Years later, he was relieved they all came out of this alright.