The Fair Trade Raid

Jack Moffitt stood in the shadows at the edge of the German-held town and blew on his hands, trying to keep them warm. He was doing what he often did on a raid: masquerading as a German guard to cover their escape route, replacing the unfortunate private they had taken out when they arrived. All he had to do now was to wait for the others to catch up with him, and then get out of here. It was the middle of the night, and freezing, and he was ready for some hot tea and a warm blanket.

The rest of the Rat Patrol seemed to be running late, though, and that was starting to worry him. They were supposed to be setting timed charges around the tiny contingent of halftracks and tanks stationed here, but they should have caught up with him by now. He was trying to decide if he should go look for them, and risk them coming back and not finding him here, when he was startled by shouts and gunfire from the direction of the motor pool.

"Can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" he muttered, stepping out from his hiding place and preparing to cover the withdrawal to the jeeps. After a few moments, he spotted the other members of the patrol sprinting down the narrow street toward him, turning occasionally to exchange fire with a half dozen pursuing Germans. Moffitt's machine gun quickly chased the Germans under cover, and the three Americans scrambled past him toward the city gate – Tully first; then Troy, who stopped at Moffitt's side to look back for Hitch as the private came stumbling up from behind.

Troy caught Hitch's shoulder and dragged him around the corner of the building, and Moffitt followed.

"All right?" the American sergeant asked his charge. Hitch nodded mutely, holding his side and gasping for breath. "Good; let's go." He gave Hitch a little push to get him going, and they moved out.

They made it out of the city to the small stand of trees where they had left the jeeps, and were gratified to hear explosions behind them, as the charges they'd left in the motor pool finally went up. As that noise died out, however, they began to hear the sound of engines coming through the narrow streets – apparently, some of the German vehicles had started after them before the explosives detonated. As the patrol scrambled into their respective jeeps, Moffitt shot a look at Troy.

"What happened?"

"Sentry changed his patrol pattern for some reason, and caught Hitch in the act." Troy pulled the cover off his Browning and checked the ammunition supply. "He did a little hand-to-hand, and then we beat it."

As the engines started, Moffitt glanced at Hitch, and the private looked up at the same time. He was starting to catch his breath, but still leaned to the right a bit. "I'm okay, Sarge; just banged up a little. Let's take off."

Tully pulled out then, and Hitch followed, and a running battle ensued as three staff cars and a halftrack cleared the city gate and started after them. They managed to shake their pursuers before too long; the Germans apparently weren't inclined to chase an unknown enemy across a moonless desert. The patrol kept moving toward their own lines for a little more than an hour, until the sky began to lighten in the east, and then Troy directed them into a wadi to refuel and eat a quick breakfast.

As the jeeps rolled to a stop, Hitch leaned forward against the steering wheel with a sigh, and Troy laughed. "We've been in the clear for the last seventy-five miles, Hitch; you're just now relaxing?" Hitch didn't respond, and Troy jumped down from the back of the jeep, somewhat concerned, and went to the private's side. "You okay?"

The shift in his tone drew the attention of the other two Rats, and they looked up with interest. Hitch raised his head slightly to shake it carefully, and Troy was bewildered to find his driver pale and shaking, both arms wrapped around his midsection. He laid a hand on Hitch's near shoulder. "What happened?"

"I swallowed my gum," the private muttered.

As Troy helped him sit up, however, the answer was immediately apparent. Under the jacket that he had worn on the mission, the right side of Hitch's shirt and trousers were a bloody mess. Leaning closer, Troy pulled the jacket away to get a better look, and Moffitt and Tully came over at once.

"Hitch, you idiot," Tully said in surprise, "you didn't tell us the guy had a knife."

"It's not that bad," Hitch protested weakly, as Moffitt turned at once to locate the first aid kit.

"Can you stand?" Troy asked, setting a hand under the private's elbow. Hitch nodded resolutely as he carefully swung his feet out of the jeep, but his knees buckled before he even had his full weight on them, and Tully had to help Troy ease him to the ground.

"Okay, maybe not," Hitch amended, leaning back against the side of the jeep with his eyes closed against sudden dizziness. Troy stood to make room as Moffitt returned with their medical kit, and began looking around their current hiding place. They could stay here if they had to, but they were only a half day from their base—if Hitch could travel, they should get him back to a doctor ….

"Troy?" Moffitt motioned to get his attention, and Troy rejoined the group on the sand.

"It's not too deep, but it's messy." Moffitt said quietly, pointing out a four-inch gash in the private's right side, a few inches above his belt. "And it hasn't quite stopped bleeding yet. He's a little shocky, too. Best stay put for a bit, take a closer look at it before we move on."

"Hey, I'm still here," Hitch breathed in irritation, annoyed at being talked about as if he weren't present, but suddenly too tired to raise more of a protest; Tully swatted his shoulder lightly to silence him.

"And here's where you're going to stay, at least for a while," Troy replied, watching as Hitch leaned slowly toward Tully, sliding down the side of the jeep, apparently unable to stay upright any longer. "Let's make camp."

By the time they had prepared a bedroll, moved their patient onto it, and cleaned and bandaged his side, Hitch was barely conscious and his companions were growing more concerned by the minute.

"I can't imagine what he was thinking," Moffitt declared, as they considered what to do next. "We could have stopped and dressed that anytime after we lost Jerry, and he wouldn't have lost that much blood."

Tully came back from surveying the jeeps. "He's done this before, y'know," he observed. "Remember when we picked up that Brit Intelligence guy , and he dragged us all over trying to find that pipeline? Hitch kept his mouth shut 'til he fell right outta the jeep."

Troy shook his head in frustration. "We can't move him, can we?"

"I shouldn't think so. The bleeding's slowing now, but bouncing about in a jeep won't help him at all. I don't know that he won't need a transfusion."

Troy was silent for a few minutes, thinking through his options. "All right," he said finally, "Tully and I will make the run to base and bring back help. Should take us till mid-afternoon, round-trip."

"What kind of help?" Tully wanted to know.

"A doctor and some plasma would be my first choice."

"Do you think they'll let you have a doctor?" Moffitt sounded unconvinced.

"I'll kidnap one if I have to," Troy replied. "Come on, Tully; we'll leave most of the water and rations here, and re-supply in camp."

XXXX

There was a great deal of activity between the Rats' hiding place and the base camp, both in the air and on the desert. Troy and Tully could tell that something was apparently going on to the south of where they'd left Moffitt and Hitch, and their suspicions were confirmed when the camp came into sight, a little less than three hours after they left Moffitt and Hitch. Armored units were moving out on a regular basis, and ambulances were coming back in.

"Someone's getting hit somewhere," Troy observed as they pulled into the motor pool.

"Gonna be hard to get a doctor out of here," Tully put in, shutting off the engine and climbing out. "Even if we hid him in a crate or something."

Troy glared at him, annoyed, and turned to the corporal in charge of the motor pool. "Fill the tank and get us some more water – and lots of it; we're going back out in an hour."

Tully frowned, unhappy about leaving their jeep in the hands of a stranger, but kept his silence until the corporal had left. "We headin' for HQ?" he asked quietly.

"If we show our faces at HQ, they'll send us out to wherever the fight is, and who knows when somebody will get back to Hitch and Moffitt. Let's head for the hospital and see what we can come up with."

The hospital was every bit as busy as they expected, under the circumstances; it took almost fifteen minutes to even get someone's attention. The nurse who finally took pity on them quickly tracked down a doctor, who met them at the entrance of the hospital tent in blood-covered surgical scrubs and a very bad mood. He laughed when they told him what they needed, which put Troy in an equally unfriendly state.

"Oh, I've plenty of plasma here," the surgeon told them. "We just received a huge shipment yesterday. But not one doctor is leaving here until this push is over."

"Who's pushing?" Tully asked.

"You've been in the field a while, haven't you? Jerry tried to punch through early yesterday – there may even be a few units between here and our lines. They're certainly wreaking havoc all over. We've been working here since yesterday afternoon, and no end in sight. We may have to pull this base back to a safer area."

The two Americans exchanged a look; this was going to be even harder than they thought, and Troy could tell by Tully's expression that the private was trying to decide if they could get the man in front of them out of camp quietly. Grabbing a doctor from a secluded area was one thing—and Troy was rapidly reaching that point—but dragging him out of the hospital in front of everyone would only get them arrested. Troy decided to try another approach.

"What about a medic?"

The doctor looked a bit taken aback at that suggestion. "Everyone who's still in camp has been working all night. If you can find a medic who can stay awake long enough to do you any good, he's yours."

Troy started looking around for a likely soul to con into joining them, but Tully surprised him. "Where's Private Spencer? Is he still here?"

Of course! If they had to kidnap a medic, it might as well be one they knew—he might be less likely to file charg es, if nothing else. Drew Spencer had accompanied the Patrol to deliver medical supplies to a native village some weeks earlier, and had got along well with all of them, particularly the two younger Rats. He had lately been trying to teach Hitch and Tully to play soccer, with limited success and much to Moffitt's amusement. Of course, how he would react to being dragged out into the field in the middle of what appeared to be a major offensive remained to be seen.

"Spencer? I think he's here – just came in a bit ago. Try post-op: third tent down, on the way to the enlisted mess. I believe he's helping out there."

Thanking the doctor, the two Rats ducked back out into the sun, and Troy checked his watch. Already eleven-thirty, and they were still in camp! Moffitt and Hitch were sitting out in the desert roasting, German patrols were apparently everywhere, and here they were getting nowhere in a hurry . Tully was watching him expectantly, so he turned toward the post-op tent and started walking.

Post-op was a familiar place to the members of the Rat Patrol; the nature of their work required alarmingly frequent visits to the medical facilities of whatever base they were using, both as patients and visitors. Troy and Tully paused in the entryway to let their eyes adjust to the dim light, and began looking for the familiar face of Drew Spencer. They didn't see him at first, but then Tully recognized his dark head at the back of the tent, where he was changing a bandage on the arm of a half-conscious soldier. Troy led the way down the wide aisle, dodging orderlies and nurses as he went, and they waited for Spencer to finish with his patient.

"There you go, lad; all done," they heard him murmur, although the soldier on the cot didn't seem to notice as he carefully replaced the injured arm at the man's side. Spencer stood and turned, stopping in surprise when he saw who was waiting for him. Troy suddenly realized how hard the medical teams had been working through the night, seeing the evidence in someone he knew; Spencer's green eyes were dull with lack of sleep, his shoulders slumped, and his uniform, while reasonably clean, was decidedly rumpled.

"Hello there," he said softly, stepping into the aisle and away from the sleeping men behind him. Taking in their urgent expressions, he glanced quickly around the room before asking anxiously, "Where are the others?" Surely the reason only two Rats were standing before him in a medical tent would be that one of the other Rats was injured.

"In the field," Troy replied, taking the younger man's elbow and drawing him toward the exit. "We need your help." He outlined the situation as quickly as he could, all the while wondering if this could possibly work out the way he needed it to. "The surgeon in charge cleared you to go with us; are you up to it?"

Spencer thought for a moment, then looked up uncertainly at the others. "You know I can't throw sutures, right? All I can do is wrap him up, pump some plasma into him and try to get him back here in one piece. And I doubt we can get an ambulance in all this; it would just be me and my kit."

"That's all I'm asking for."

Another brief pause, then he drew a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, nodding at Troy. "I just need to resupply; when will you be leaving?"

"As soon as you're ready. You're sure?" Troy asked—he was thrilled to have gotten the help they came for, but a little surprised that he'd gotten it this easily.

"Yes," Spencer said with a small smile. "I've been in camp for two whole hours; got a shower, a clean shirt, and half a hot meal, and seen to the men I brought in. Time to head to the front line again."

Troy decided not to tell him yet that Moffitt and Hitch weren't exactly at the front line – at least, he hoped that was still the case.

"Look at it this way, Spence," Tully offered as they stepped out into the sun again, "At least you can catch a few winks in the jeep."

That got a full-scale grin from the medic. "Not likely," he retorted. "I've ridden with you lot before, you know. Meet you in the motor pool?" At Troy's confirming nod, he added, "I'll be there in ten minutes."