"Once you've done what you're doing now," Doyle took a cigarette out of his pocket, put it in his mouth and lit it, "And remove all his personal effects."

During the remainder of that day and through the night the convoy of vehicles of the Long Range Desert Group moved through the desert back to their base camp. Hundreds of questions were filling Rushtons mind. What he'd heard already, unbelievable.

'German aeroplane and pilot stolen! Stolen? From where? Stolen and then shot down. No air bases for many, many miles from the crash site. My group just happening across it. Two Englishmen inside the plane. Miraculously the two that survived. Both Englishmen already severely injured. None of it makes sense'

His head was buzzing.

He looked up at the starry sky and saw Orion's belt. The Egyptian God Osiris. It was freezing in the open top Jeep despite his extra jacket and scarf around his neck. The cold wind making his eyes water was the only thing keeping him awake and it was a very tired Major John Rushton of the S.A.S who crawled into his own bed that night.

Having snatched only a few hours sleep he was awake again just after dawn. Doyle entered the tent with hot black coffee.

"Here you go Sir."

"Thanks Harry," Rushton said slurping the hot liquid. They had all got used to coffee without milk or sugar. Coffee that tasted of petrol. The whole of the allied forces in North Africa were drinking it.

"Did you sleep well?" Rushton asked.

"Not really. Did you?"

"No."

Rushton poured himself a basin of clean water and began washing his face.

"Have you checked on the two Engineers?"

"Both awake last time I looked."

Rushton reached for a towel and quickly dried his face.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"Sir I've only just been told that you were awake."

"Well then why the hell didn't you bloody wake me."

"Sorry Sir I thought you should rest. I've posted guards on them so that no one talks to them."

Rushton simmered down at this.

"Very well," he cleared his throat "Very well Harry thank you. I don't want anyone talking to them except me. Theoretically they are under house arrest. They could still turn out to be spies or deserters. We don't know yet. I want them closely watched until I can speak to them."

Much as he wanted to speak to the two right away Rushton knew they had to be fed while he himself had delivery reports to deal with. He took his coffee and stepped outside his tent. It was still cold, the sky to the East bright, twilight to the West. The vehicles used the day before were being refuelled. Men holding cans of petrol to the fuel necks. He wandered across to the nearest Jeep and spoke to the maintenance men. The smell of petrol was overpowering. All of the vehicles reeked of it, from the many spills that covered the bodywork.

One man had removed, cleaned, serviced and was now replacing a Vickers 'K' machine gun. These were mounted on the backs of the Jeeps, they stood above the heads of the Jeeps inhabitants and had a 360 degree turning circle, were very lightweight and good for bringing down enemy aircraft. Bren guns were mounted on the front.

Rushton had four such Jeeps at his disposal. He also had threee trucks and fifty men. He left the first of the Jeeps and quickly examined the others.

Albert Simmonds, George Potts and Dougie Thomas were recovering supplies that had been dropped by transporters the afternoon before. The sacks and canisters, most of them still attached to their parachutes, were scattered over a wide area. Once gathered there was not enough room to store anything so the majority of it stayed in its containers and was piled near the supply tent. Each had a label attached to it describing the goods inside.

"Hey," Bert said as they handled a large packet "This one contains sausages."

"Sausages?" from George.

"Sausages," Bert repeated.

"I haven't had sausages for ages," Dougie said licking his lips at the parcel.

"I'll bet they're thick pork sausages," Bert said feeling his stomach rumble.

"Big, thick, juicy, succulent, glistening pork sausages with a hint of seasoning, sizzling in a pan, bursting out of their skins, tendera."

"That's enough you two," Doug said "You're enough to make a man sick."

"Think of those poor bastards on the front line who don't get food like this."

"Yeah right. Glad I joined the L.R.D.G. "

"'Ere look out the Major's coming. Better shut up and get on with it."

"Good morning gentlemen," Rushton said in a friendly voice.

"Good morning Sir," The three replied pretending to have just seen him. They saluted smartly. Rushton returned the salute.

"At ease. How's it going?"

"Not too bad Sir," Bert always seemed to find himself to be the spokesman of the three, "Because the drop was made late afternoon and the light wasn't too bad the pilots were pretty much able to target the drop zone. Our supplies weren't spread too much."

"Good. Well don't let me keep you from your work."

The three saluted again and Rushton returned it once again.

"What's in that canister?"

"Sausages Sir."

"Sausages eh! Lovely."

"Sir," they saluted again as he left.

"He's not so bad you know," Bert said to his comrades when Rushton was safely out of earshot.

"He's all right."

"Have you ever met the Colonel?"

"Yes he's all right too."

"I'm liking the way this war's turning out," Bert said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we have a good job. We go out with a blank sheet of paper and chart everything we see. Sometimes hundreds of miles from the front line. We always receive good supplies. I've promised myself that I'm coming out of this man's war alive and that's exactly what I'm going to do.".

George Potts pointed at him.

"Don't jinx yourself. You've just tempted fate."

Bert shuddered.

"Why did you say that?" he made the sign of the cross in front of himself "You've no right to say that."

George slapped him on the back.

"I'm just fooling with you."

"Well don't it's not funny."

"I thought it was."

"Well it's not."

"What do you think Doug?"

"I think you two should stop talking so much crap and help me with this."

They chuckled. Friends again.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

Alfred Dennis stood smartly to attention in the command tent pre-warned that Major John Rushton was about to enter. Sergeant Harry Doyle of the Long Range Desert Group standing behind Alf and slightly to the right.

The tent flap sighed open and Rushton entered. He stepped neatly around his desk and stood directly in front of the Engineer. Alf clicked his heels neatly together and gave Rushton his best salute. Rushton returned the salute as equals.

"Good morning Sergeant Dennis please take a seat," Rushton smiled, his manner friendly, as he gestured to the chair behind Alf.

"Thank you Sir," But Alf waited until Rushton had sat first. He also noticed that the Major wasn't armed but Doyle behind him was carrying a side arm, which warned Alf to be careful.

"May I ask a question Sir?"

This caught Rushton off guard.

"Yes."

"Am Ia. We under arrest Sir?"

Rushton studied him for amoment, then he decided honesty was the best tact.

"Sergeant Dennis you and private Larder were found in a crashed German aeroplane with a dead German pilot one hundred and twenty five miles from where your unit was stationed and when we found you we heard an amazing story of escape and hijackinga."

"It's true Sir."

"The purpose of this today is to determine the facts."

"I've given you the facts Sira. I know they were only briefa."

"Sergeant Dennis," Rushton raised his voice, his face flushed with anger. Doyle started to come forward but Rushton shook his head.

"It is up to me to decide if what you tell me is the truth. For all I know you may be a deserter."

Alf jumped up out of his seat.

"That's not true Sir. We are nota."

Doyle came forward and grabbed Alf by the arms, restraining him.

"Sergeant Dennis. It is my duty to remind you that we serve in the king's army and that we are gentlemen. Please try to act like one. This insubordination is wholly unacceptable. If you continue to behave in this manner I shall have no alternative to place you under arrest and refer you to a higher command for trial."

Alf went limp in Doyle's arms. The fight gone out of him now."

"I'm sorry Sir. I've just been through a lot lately."

"That's no excuse. Try to act like a professional."

"I'm sorry Sir."

Doyle released his grip.

"We have all been through a lot sergeant. Doyle here has recently lost his brother. My home in Coventry was recently bombed. My wife and children barely got out alive. It was two months before I found out."

Alf stood humbled.

"Now please retake your seat."

Alf sat.

"I'm trying to help you. I am not your executioner sergeant. No. You will hang yourself unless you tell me what I need to know."

"Where shall I begin Sir?"

"In the beginning."

'Where shall I start," Alf was asking himself "Does he want to know about my parents, grandparents? They were just ordinary people. My father served in the navy but he died when I was small. Ordinary lives. Nothing much to tell.' Alf decided to tell Rushton about himself. 'If he wants to know the rest he'll ask.'