Prompt 8 – "The closest doctor is probably hours away from here!"
"The oasis is a very long way from here, Herr Hauptmann," Lieutenant Wintsch said. "It would be preferable for someone to accompany you."
"As much as I appreciate your concern, Herr Leutnant, I am going to insist on doing this alone," Dietrich replied. "Besides, with the water canisters, there is no room in my vehicle for a second person. We cannot go without water for longer than we have to. I will return before this evening. Carry on."
The young blond lieutenant continued to look uncertain, even doubtful, but he did what he was told, stepping aside to let his captain go.
Dietrich knew what he was doing carried a slew of risks. Driving out alone in vast, open desert was dangerous, especially since he himself wasn't drinking enough water. No one else knew that, of course. He wouldn't let them see him depositing half of his water ration into the infirmary's supply. The wounded and sick needed it more. With the Rat Patrol being the nuisances that they were, Dietrich refused to put his men at risk to retrieve more water. He would go it alone, both to reduce risk, and to carry more water.
The empty cans and jugs rattled incessantly as his Kübelwagen bounced along the flat stretch of desert between his camp and the oasis. The drive would be a few hours at most, but Dietrich was patient, and determined not to draw any unwanted attention from a certain bush hat-wearing American sergeant and his band of merry mischief-makers, so he took a route that went around a small range of rocky, sand-blasted hills. The dry, rough appearance of everything around Dietrich provided a rather uncomfortable reminder of his own thirst. There were no clouds in the sky. Only the oppressive sun, beating down mercilessly on him and making every surface in and on the vehicle impossible to touch with bare hands. Around him, there were no signs of life, save for a pair of Egyptian vultures looking down from the craggy top of one of the hills at the lone car as it passed below them.
Sweat made Dietrich more uncomfortable as the drive went on, but he would rather deal with sweat and only sweat, instead of the headache slowly blooming behind his eyes. He stopped the car after getting past the hills to put the roof up. That would keep the sun off, yes, but would do nothing about the heat. He felt dizzy once he was standing, and instinctively went to lean against the vehicle. He was immediately repelled by how hot it was, like touching a burner. Dietrich stumbled backward, everything beginning to tilt to one side. He regained his footing, but his head was light and heavy with pain at the same time. Okay. Go slow, he tried telling himself. He drew in a breath, then began pulling the roof over the Kübelwagen. The parts were hot to the touch and going slow meant he was prolonging his exposure to the unobstructed sun. He wondered why he didn't put the roof up before leaving camp, but decided not to bother himself with thinking about decisions he made and couldn't change.
Then again, that was difficult sometimes.
Dietrich managed to get the roof up, though he felt the time he spent on it was unacceptable. Bands of pain were wrapped around his head. He was more exhausted than he felt he should be. I still have to get to the oasis, and get the water. Water… Water sounds nice right about now. Dietrich shook his aching head, trying not to think about it. He got back in the vehicle, wincing as muscles in his limbs began cramping. Right. This is a problem. He sat for a moment, waiting out the cramps, then started up the vehicle.
Except, it wouldn't start.
For heaven's sake. Dietrich tried starting it again. And again. And again. Well, this is a bigger problem. Damn it. He cussed to himself before getting out, pushing through the ever-worsening cramps and the extreme heat of the metal to open the hood of the car. He could fix basic issues, but he worried this was something a trained mechanic would need to look at. He couldn't even focus on what he was looking at.
The feeling of needing to pass out and throw up started slowly at first, then surged the longer Dietrich hung over the open hood. Not wanting to puke in the engine bay—the mechanics definitely wouldn't appreciate that—Dietrich staggered back to the driver's seat. His faintness subsided a little, as did his nausea. I need help. He winced as another round of cramps gripped him, and his headache continued squeezing around his skull. Help. He looked up and drew in a breath before whispering a prayer, asking for help. Please, I know I have not been doing my best, but I need help. Please, help me. Please… Dietrich didn't notice that he wasn't fully in his seat, and felt himself sliding off. His vision blurred and faded. He was dimly aware that he was falling, and everything went black just as he hit the hot sand outside the vehicle.
Some time passed before Dietrich started hearing muffled voices. The voices seemed familiar, but they weren't the voices of any of his men. Four of the voices were male and one was female. He managed to open his eyes a little. He could see two faces. One was dark-haired and had something blue around his neck. There was something black around his neck as well, standing up on his left shoulder. The second figure was wearing a hat that was pinned up on its left side.
Wait a minute. A pinned-up hat? That could only be…
When I asked for help, this is not what I meant! Dietrich's vision cleared a little more, and he could see his fears were correct. Standing above him were none other than Troy and Moffitt, and the thing around Moffitt's shoulders was his Egyptian cobra, Anah. You have got to be kidding me.
"Good morning, Dietrich," Troy said. "Glad to see you're still with us. Easy, buddy, don't move." He looked past Dietrich. "Hitch, Tully! How's his vehicle coming?"
"Needs a bit more work, Sarge!" Tully called back.
Dietrich wanted to ask what the Rats were doing to his Kübelwagen, but all that came out was a half-grunt, half-moan. His mouth was drier than the sand around him. He then felt Moffitt's hand under his head, and a canteen was put to his lips. The feeling of water in his mouth was quite possibly the greatest relief he ever felt, and given his earlier nausea, he was equally relieved that his stomach didn't reject the water.
"Drink. You'll feel better," Moffitt said. He let Dietrich drink for another few seconds before gently taking the canteen away.
"We should make him some food, too, dear," Anah said.
"Let him regain consciousness first, Anah, geez," Troy sighed.
Dietrich tried to tell them that he was conscious, but it again came out as a grunt. He tried to sit up, but felt Troy gently push him back down.
"Nope, not yet. Rest."
Dietrich groaned. Did he have no say here? Why, why did these five menaces have to be sent to help? Is this a joke? He became aware of something soft under his head, and realized it was someone's wrapped-up bedroll, probably one of the Rats'. It smelled a bit like black tea, so he guessed it was Moffitt's.
"Oh, dear, he really does look awful," Anah said. She waved her tail in front of Dietrich's face, to which the skinny German's response was to blink and grunt. "At least he is waking up."
"We should get him in the shade," Troy said.
"There's no shade apart from the vehicles," Moffitt replied. "Not unless we want to drive out to those hills. They're a few miles away."
"No, we're better off not moving him."
"What about bringing him to a field hospital?" Moffitt stood, and grabbed a map from his and Tully's jeep. "Blast, that's no good. The nearest doctor is probably hours away from here!"
"Are you talking about getting him to a German hospital or one of ours?" Troy asked.
"Both. We're far away from either of our lines. Quite far, actually."
"Well, we've got plenty of water since we went to that oasis and filled the tanks. That's probably where Dietrich was headed, what with all the empty jugs and cans in his car."
Dietrich made an attempt to nod in agreement. He felt Moffitt pick up his left hand and touch the inside of his wrist.
"I don't like how thready his pulse is," Moffitt said. "We need to get him out of the sun—"
Troy took off his hat, and held it over Dietrich's head. "There. That's the best we can do for now."
Hitch came over, his face, hands, and shirtless torso covered in black grease. "Sarge, we'll probably have his vehicle fixed before he's recovered. We're not gonna just leave him here, are we?"
"No, absolutely not."
"Agreed," Moffitt said. "The Arab tribe that comes through here to get water from that oasis is not friendly toward anyone. Dietrich would be a dead man."
"I think it's safe to say that he's not out here looking to cause trouble," Troy said. "We'll escort him to the oasis, let him get his water, and escort him back to his camp."
No. I am not letting you near my men! Dietrich grunted, and finally spoke. "No… no."
"What, Captain?" Troy asked.
"No. Do not… escort me."
"We'll just bring you home, Dietrich, we're not going to blow anything up, I promise."
"No. You will still… know my position."
"Wait. I have a compromise." Moffitt held up his map. "We will escort him back to the hills a few miles north of here, as long as he's capable of driving." He looked at Dietrich. "Sound fair?"
Dietrich wasn't sure he had much choice. "Fair."
"Can I make him a bit of food now?" Anah asked.
Moffitt sighed. "Oh, alright. Could you get water for tea started, please? Make two cups—one for me and one for Dietrich."
"I was just about to suggest making one for him, dear."
"Great minds think alike."
Troy snorted. "Anah? A great mind?"
"Yes," Moffitt said.
"I'm starting to think you've been out in the sun for too long as well, Moffitt. You know she's a little cuckoo sometimes."
Anah hissed at Troy from inside the jeep.
Things were quiet aside from Hitch and Tully working on Dietrich's Kübelwagen. They stopped for food when it was ready, and Dietrich heard them say they were getting close to done with fixing it. Tully even offered to top off his gas tank. They were all being so sickeningly kind to him, and yet Dietrich was still thinking that this was not the answer to his prayer that he wanted.
"Dear, can you sit up? I made porridge." Anah appeared next to Dietrich with a bowl held telekinetically above her head.
Dietrich expected Moffitt to help, but he sighed and tried not to look displeased when he saw Troy get up to help instead. It was nice to be sitting upright, but Dietrich refused to admit that.
Anah climbed onto Dietrich's lap, and took a spoon with her tail to stir the porridge a bit. "I will give you a small amount to start with," she said, holding out the spoon.
"I can feed myself, thank you very much," Dietrich muttered.
"Oh, but you are still a bit weak, dear, let me—"
"Anah, let him eat on his own," Troy said, gently.
"Fine." Anah let Dietrich take the porridge before slithering off back to Moffitt.
Dietrich glared at Troy while picking up the bowl. "You are not going to attempt to feed me, either," he growled.
"I'm not," Troy said. He moved away, but he was still watching Dietrich eat, which was not appreciated. Eventually, Troy looked back toward his men.
Dietrich was no stranger to trading with the locals for better food, but he made sure the better food went to his men first. He guessed that the ingredients for the porridge came from a trade. It was well-made, tasted fresh, and he could tell it was sweetened with honey. It was far better than what he felt he deserved. He stared down at the porridge, letting out a quiet sigh. He tried not to think like that, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Dietrich took another spoonful, knowing that the Rats wouldn't be happy if he left his food unfinished. When he did finish, he looked over at Troy. "Give this back to Anah, Sergeant."
Troy took the bowl. "You want anything else, Captain?"
"Just water. Thank you." Dietrich took the canteen when it was offered. He was still uncomfortably warm, but steadily feeling better than when he first regained consciousness. Food and water helped, and part of him wondered if this wouldn't have been nearly as bad if he took better care of himself. He looked down at the canteen in his hands. He could tell by the lingering smell of cigarettes that it was Troy's, and despite all their previous interactions, Dietrich was still surprised at how generous Troy was to his own enemy. Can we even call ourselves enemies? he thought while taking a long drink from the canteen.
"You okay, Captain?" Troy asked.
"Better than before," Dietrich replied. He knew the right thing to do was to thank him, and the other, but he decided to wait.
Tully and Hitch got back to work fixing the Kübelwagen, while Troy, Moffitt, and Anah resumed playing nurse with Dietrich, doing their best to keep him cool and hydrated. All Dietrich could do was sit and let them assist, though he would argue against everything that seemed more like mothering than nursing. A joyous feeling lightened his heart when he heard the hood of his vehicle being closed, followed by Tully saying, "All done, Sarge! His car's good as new."
"It's definitely better than we found it," Hitch said. "I even added air to the tires."
"Are you not shot for treason in your armies?" Dietrich asked.
"Oh, we could be," Tully said. "We just don't say anything about things like this."
"Yeah. That," Troy added.
Moffitt crouched down to help Dietrich and provide him with support as they tested how well he could walk. Dietrich gripped Moffitt as blood rushed from his head. His legs were still a bit weak, and a light feeling started to swell in his head.
"Take it slow, Dietrich," Moffitt said. "Easy does it."
Dietrich wasn't sure if it was because he didn't have much of a choice, or because he truly trusted Moffitt, but he continued to hold on until the lightness faded and some strength returned to his legs.
"I don't think it's safe for him to drive," Troy said.
Do I really need more of this? Dietrich bit back a curse. "I am perfectly fine, Sergeant."
"One of us could drive him," Moffitt suggested. "At the very least, we take him to the oasis, and see how he is there."
"I'll drive," Troy said. "Hitch, you lead. Moffitt, Anah, Tully, you watch our backs. Let's shake it." He took Dietrich from Moffitt, helping the skinny German get into the front passenger seat of the Kübelwagen after taking out the empty water cans occupying the seat. The Rats took care of getting their things gathered up and put back in their jeeps, leaving no trace of their presence. Troy put the water cans in his jeep, then returned to Dietrich's vehicle. He put his arm out the window to signal to the others to start moving. Hitch pulled out in front, while Tully drove around behind.
Dietrich kept quiet until they were driving. It would be a little while until they reached the oasis, and he didn't particularly care for having to spend that time with Troy of all people. Most of the drive was quiet. Too quiet. Awkwardly quiet. Dietrich occasionally glanced at Troy, and Troy occasionally glanced at Dietrich. A few moments passed before Dietrich became aware of the holster on his left hip containing his Walther P38 sidearm. It would be so easy to just deal with Troy right then and there…
The thought turned his stomach. Dietrich kept his hands away from his holster. He couldn't. He simply couldn't.
"You look like you're thinking, Captain," Troy said, breaking the silence.
It came as no surprise to Dietrich that Troy would be the one to break the silence. He swallowed, trying to think of a good response, but all he could come up with was, "Perhaps."
"Still not feeling great?"
"I am fine."
They struck a rock, sending both men out of their seats temporarily.
"Could you not damage my vehicle so soon after you fixed it?" Dietrich asked, rubbing his face.
"I'll try," Troy said.
"You also could have gone around the rock instead of driving over it like an imbecile." Dietrich sighed.
"I'll take this as a sign you're feeling better."
Dietrich glared at him, and decided to save his sanity by not continuing this conversation. At the same time, he couldn't stand the awkward silence. He couldn't stand being trapped in a vehicle with Troy. He couldn't stand the awkward silence combined with being trapped in a vehicle with Troy. Well, it could be worse. We could be chained to each other again. He gave another sigh.
More time passed before Dietrich noticed Troy glancing at him again. He noticed that the look in Troy's eyes wasn't suspicion, but something else. Something sadder. Dietrich pretended he didn't notice. He kept his eyes ahead until they saw the date palms of the oasis. "Finally," he said aloud.
It wasn't surprising that the Rats and Anah helped Dietrich fill the tanks, jugs, and cans with water. By the time they finished, Dietrich was feeling better, and was able to stand and walk without feeling dizzy and lightheaded. He wanted to say that he could take things from there, but knew there would be arguing. The Rats really wanted to make damn sure that Dietrich wasn't going to pass out at the wheel. As agreed before, they would escort him until they got to the rocky hills. That was final.
By the time they reached the hills on the return trip, the sun was setting. Deep, warm colors melted into the sand off to the west. It started to feel cooler, more bearable. The high-pitched barks and shrieks of foxes could be heard. A gentle wind came through, covering the tracks left by the Kübelwagen and its two jeep escorts. The jeeps stopped, allowing Dietrich to pass by them, but instead of continuing, Dietrich stopped. He got out, and stepped over to Troy's jeep.
Troy was on the back of the vehicle, holding onto the mounted machine gun. He dropped down to stand in front of Dietrich. "What is it, Captain? Need something?"
Dietrich hesitated for a few heartbeats. "Only to say… thank you, Sergeant. Until next time." He held out his hand, and Troy took it, shaking it firmly.
"Not a problem, Captain," Troy said.
Dietrich shook Hitch and Tully's hands, thanking them for fixing his vehicle, then approached Moffitt and Anah to thank them both for nursing him back to health. He shook the lanky Englishman's hand, and the Egyptian cobra's tail, as strange as that seemed. With his gestures taken care of, Dietrich returned to his vehicle, and drove off in the direction of his camp. He looked over his shoulder occasionally, hoping the Rats weren't following. Part of him anticipated there would be an attack soon, but another part told him not to worry. Not now.
His men had been worried about why Dietrich was so late, so he told only half of the story, that he had trouble with his vehicle and it took some time to fix. After the water was unloaded and distributed, Dietrich freshened up and retired to his tent for the night. He found it hard to fall asleep, as he kept thinking back to how he prayed for help, and received help. It wasn't the help he wanted, but it was help all the same. Aunt Miriam would tell him to be grateful, and perhaps there was a reason the Rats had been sent. He was inclined to believe her, and so he believed that maybe there was a reason that the Rats had been the ones to help him. At the same time, he allowed himself to smirk at the idea that God had a sense of humor. Perhaps it was humor. Perhaps Dietrich was being taught a lesson. Perhaps it was both.
Sleep continued to evade him, so Dietrich sat outside his tent with a cigarette. His mind remained active. Smoke lazily swirled and danced above him before being carried away by a breeze. He knew that he owed the Rats, once again, and he would only admit to himself that he would much rather encounter them in circumstances like this than in battle.
