Stifle!
by tallsunshine12
A story for 'Sicktember 2024,' Prompt #24: Did you just sneeze?
The Germans stopped within twelve feet of where the four Rats hid, then dismounted from their vehicle and decided to take a smoke break. That close, the men of the Rat Patrol could hear the Germans' every inhale of their cigs, as well as the guttural chatter of their German eloquence.
"It's something about a dance hall and a girl in torn stockings," Moffitt muttered, keeping his voice low.
"I wish they'd take a hike," growled Troy, the leader of the patrol. "We'll have to plow right through them to attack that collection of trucks and half-tracks."
In the same hushed voice as before, Moffitt said, "They're all set to join the convoy. Makes our job harder." He gestured to the Germans' armored car parked nearby.
In less than an hour a German supply convoy was due to pass by the wadi and the Rats were waiting for it. So were the Germans, who wanted to tagalong with the convoy back to al-Qarah, the Germans' base of ops in this region of the Libyan desert.
The waiting was interminable. Even to start up the jeeps and back out of the wadi, with its protecting rocks, would be too noisy. The five Germans would quickly be down on them, the resulting shooting would alert the convoy, and off it would go. Sounds of gunfire carried very well in these pockets of sand and rock.
Not being able to breathe, or to speak louder than a mutter, was not easy, then Troy looked over at Hitch and realized that something was about to happen. "Oh no, Hitch. Oh, God, no."
Hitch's head was moving back and forth, with his hand up to his nose, his eyes squinched up. Suddenly Tully, to the left of Hitch, tackled Hitch to the ground and rubbed his face in the sand. The sound muffled the noise Hitch made.
When Hitch was allowed back up again, Troy asked him, sotto voce, "Did you just sneeze, what with all we've got riding on taking out this convoy?"
"Sorry, Sarge," said a shame-faced Hitch, with a slight sniffle. "Couldn't help it. Moffitt—"
"Moffitt, what?" asked Troy, in a low, spleen-filled whisper.
"Moffitt washed his ascot in that saffron and caramel soap again he bought last week in the Arab bazaar."
He play-acted like he was going to sneeze again and Tully, not knowing it was play-acting, again tackled him to the sand. That last series of movements finally caught the attention of the Germans, who stood up en masse, dropped their cigarettes, and looked around. It was a short fight, lots of bullets flying in from both sides, and when it was over, five Germans lay in the sand, having breathed their last. None of the Rat Patrol was even winged.
Laying his hot-barreled, smoking tommy gun aside, Moffitt stood up in the rocks as far as he dared and sighted the convoy again with his binoculars. The trucks and armored vehicles were still moving their way. He breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't think they heard us, or you either, Hitch."
The 'sneeze' that was heard 'round the world … somehow wasn't.
30
