"What corner? What gate? What are you talking about?!

Alf moved to one side. The sun was no longer in Johnny's face.

"The corner of the guards hut over there by the main gate. I was there for over half an hour the other day. Just standing there minding my own business. The guards were bringing in boxes of supplies and when I moved out a little I realised the guard in the watch tower hadn't even seen me. He was facing inside the compound and only shouted at me when he turned around."

Alf was staring at his friend open mouthed.

"He didn't see me Alf. If I'd known I would have run for it. But look! It's all flat desert. There is nowhere to run to."

Alf looked around to make sure that no one had overheard their conversation.

"Show me," he said in a whisper.

They made their way slowly to the guard hut. Alf curbing his excitement at the news he'd just heard.

"We must keep a distance Johnny," Alf said putting out a hand to stop Larder as they got near, "We don't want to arouse the Germans suspicions."

"What would they do to us if we tried to escape Alf?"

"Hunt us down. Shoot us?"

"Would they hurt those left behind?"

*Would they?' Alf asked himself *That maniac Wurtz probably would but Schwann? Schwann is a good man.'

"In truth Johnny I don't know."

Alf kicked at some loose stones on the ground.

"It's all speculation anyway Johnny. It is as you said there is nowhere to run to even if you could escape."

Almost unbelievably the opportunity came two days later.

It was late morning and most of the British captives were inside their tents because of the rain. It had rained hard through most of the night beating down on the canvas covers. Alf was standing in the door flap looking out at the puddles forming on the desert floor. Rain was such a rarity that the P.O.W.'s had gone outside and were standing in it.

The previous afternoon they had stood in it, their faces tilted up towards the heavens. Rain splashing their hair. Hair which for some of them hadn't been washed in weeks. Many of them had their mouths open. Catching the sweet water or tasting it on their lips. Shirts that quickly became soaked were taken off and thrown down.

Then someone produced a football. It was old and the leather scuffed. Some of the stitching was frayed but it was still very usable. The English soldiers enjoyed a kick about. Then someone suggested a game against the Indians.

It soon became apparent that the Indians knew nothing about football but this didn't deter them. Alf quickly got four shirts off players to use as goalposts. Next he separated the two sides. English on the left. Indians on the right. Guards in the watch towers looking on.

Next Alf began explaining the game and basic rules. The Indians listened intently, keen to learn. Their game was cricket.

Alf joined his team.

"Take your shirts off," he said "They're keeping theirs on. Remember your team are the players wearing the shirts!" Alf shouted across to the captain of the Indian team. He waved back that they understood. Alf's team were highly optimistic about the outcome of the game.

"Let's be easy on them."

His men sniggered quietly. It should be a whitewash.

It was.

Inside ten minutes the Indians were trailing six goals to nil. They wouldn't give up though. Their enthusiasm was plain to see. The German guards in the towers laughing every time an Indian ended up flat on his face with a mouthful of dirt.

Alf thumped another goal home. His shoulder was aching but he was enjoying the game too much to let it bother him. The Indians weren't responding and some of them now began to stand and watch the ball, not bothering to try and get it.

Eight nil!

The English were celebrating. The Indians dejected. Burroughs in goal for England called a halt to the game. He hadn't touched the ball once. Then it was passed back to him and he picked it up.

"Alf it's a bit one sided."

"That's because they're no good," Alf replied trying to get the ball from Wilf who quickly hid it behind his back.

"Why don't we mix the teams up a bit, you know try to make it more even."

Alf thought about it.

"Oh all right, why not," *it couldn't hurt' he decided "But you and I are on the same team," Alf looked around "Johnny how's your head?"

"It's fine Alf I'll be O.K."

"If you're sure. You're on my team."

Alf picked the best. Johnny had already scored a hat trick.

Vijay was watching at the sidelines wishing he could play. His legs still too badly injured for him to run. The bones were knitting well though. It was a good sign.

"Vijay," Alf called "Can you pick a team. We'll alternate."

"Yes," Vijay replied "Gupta, Rasheed, Farooq, you stand over there please. You, you, you, you also," he said telling off four of the Royal Engineers. When the teams had been picked it did look more even sided.

Now play began.

Captain Schwann was writing at his desk. His hot coffee steaming in a tin cup in front of him. It tasted disgusting but then most things out here did after a while. He was filling out reports to be filed by the doctors, medical reports requiring his signature and so forth.

He ran a finger around the inside of his collar. It was hot in his office. He got up and stretched. The windows didn't open so he went to the door and opened it.

His sentry half turned to salute him.

"As you werea." he stopped "What's all that noise?"

"The prisoners are playing football sir."

"Football! Where?"

"Over there sir," the guard pointed.

Schwann pulled the door shut.

"Come with me."

As they approached the football match Schwann reached into his trouser pocket, took out his whistle and blew it. He had to blow it twice more to get the game to stop. Schwann marched up to Alf.

"We were just having a friendly game of football Captain Schwann," Alf said saluting him. "I'm sorry if you were disturbed."

"What? Oh not at all. Who is playing?"

"Ourselves and the Indians sir. Originally it was us against the Indians but we were beating them so easily we mixed the teams up."

Schwann nodded taking it all in, the ball, the shirt goal posts.

"Take a break," he told Alf "We'll play you."

"Pardon sir."

"We'll play you. The prisoners versus the guards. England v GERMANY!"

He said the Germany loud. He turned to the guard he'd brought.

"Get some barrels to make goals with."

Schwann began unbuttoning his shirt. He took it off, undid his braces and let them fall by his hips.

"I had a trial once for Bayern Munich," he told Alf.

"What happened?"

"The war happened. Get yourselves organised. We'll start in fifteen minutes. Is that enough time?"

"Of course sir."

Schwann left the field of play to organise things. Alf quickly got his men into a group.

"We've got a crack at the guards here," he said keeping his voice low.

"What?" said Burroughs.

"Schwann and his guards have challenged us to a game."

"You haven't agreed?"

"Of course I have."

"We don't stand a chance. Look at them. The Germans are all fit. Most of us have been in the infirmary."

"Don't let that put you off. We can beat them. Watch the tackles though. Keep it clean. You can bet that they won't but we don't want to upset Schwann. Oh by the way he nearly turned professional once. Any one here play?"

One man came forward.

"Frank Grimes sarge. I had a trial for Manchester United when I was a kid."

"Did you learn much?"

"Enough to make them uncomfortable," he said nodding towards Schwann.

Ten minutes later the German Captain was back with his guards. He had changed his jackboots for a pair of old , plain, dusty boots. He still had his braces on. His vest was white and clean. His team were all wearing a motley collection of uniforms. These were men plucked from the guardroom.

Alf and his team mates watched them coming.

"Shit they do look fit Alf."

The Germans took to the pitch and took up their positions. The barrels arrived and were placed. The English goal was bigger. Alfs team protested. Schwann personally paced it out and though everyone could see that he took larger steps in the England goal he categorically denied it. The goalposts stayed as they were.

"Cheating bastards," Burroughs commented.

"All right that's enough in case he hears you. We can beat them. If we win they'll always know that we are better than them."

"Alf they have three more players than us."

Alf counted them. Burroughs was right.

"Even more reason to beat them. Come on Johnny you're up front with me. Wilf are you all right in goal?"

Burroughs clapped his hands together.

"They won't get past me."

Schwann was in the middle of the drawn pitch. The ball at his feet.

"I've just decided," he said "There will be no sending's off."

Alf smiled but he knew that this was an excuse for the Germans to play rough.

"If any of your team wishes to drop out now is the time."

Alf turned to look at them, his team, his comrades. They were ready.

"Just go ahead and blow your whistle."

"Very well. May the best team win," Schwann said putting the whistle to his lips while trying not to laugh.

Schwann was holding the ball down with his right foot. He blew his whistle and kicked the ball back to a defender who passed it across the wing. Then they began their attack. They passed the ball easily between them taunting the English players who as yet had failed to make any sort of play. They marked the Germans and did nothing. Schwann dribbled the ball past Johnny Larder and took a shot at goal. Burroughs made a half hearted dive and the ball was in under his body. The Germans applauded but Schwann wasn't impressed.

"You didn't try to stop that," he said to Burroughs as Wilf got to his feet. He pointed a finger at Alf.

"You don't need to let us win. We'll beat you easily enough."