The Storm

It was still night in the desert, and Gerhart couldn’t fall asleep. He tossed and turned in his sleeping bag. He then sighed and unzipped it. He slipped into his boots, and walked around to the other side of the plane, and tinkled briefly. After he was finished, Gerhart walked back around and stared at the stars, trying to pick out familiar constellations or locate the North Star. Suddenly, he yawned; even though his mind was awake, his body wasn’t. At the pace of an Egyptian mummy, Gerhart shuffled back to his sleeping bag, took off his boots, and snuggled back into his sleeping bag.

A few hours later…

“Guten Morgen, Gerhart. Bereit für einen Tag in den Dünen? (Good morning, Gerhart. Ready for a day in the dunes?)” said Karl.

“Nein, bin ich nicht. Haben wir eine Notlandung? (No, I’m not. Did we make a forced landing?)” said Gerhart.

“So’ne Art… (Kind of…)” said Karl.

Gerhart bolted up and said, “Warten… das Sanstrum… und dann… ich erinnere mich jetzt. Wir sind in diesem anderen Wüste (Wait… the sandstorm… and then… now I remember. We’re in this other desert.)” Gerhart unzipped his sleeping bag, and slipped into his boots once more. He climbed up into the Stuka, and pulled out a case.  Inside was a three barrel firearm, known as the M30 Luftwaffe Drilling. It fired 12-gauge shotgun shells and also 9.3x74mmR rifle rounds, and it was designed for situations just like these. Gerhart closed the canopy and climbed off of the Stuka. He opened the case, assembled the gun, and took some ammunition and loaded the Drilling. “Wünscht mir Glück, ich bin Position heraus. Bleib hier, und sicherstellen, dass sich das Flugzeug nicht in Feindeshand fallen. Sie haben eine Pistole, ein paar Zeitschriften und einige Gehirne. Alles wird gut, (Wish me luck, I’m heading out. Stay here, and make sure the aircraft doesn’t fall into enemy hands. You’ve got pistol, some magazines, and some brains. You’ll be fine),” said Gerhart. With that, he poked his head above the dune, and after feeling it was safe to move, crawled over the other side of the dune. The sun seemed as relentless as the African sun. Gerhart could feel himself sweating hard; his clothes and Tropenhelm were already becoming damp and smelling musty. He clutched the Drilling for dear life, and its barrels were heating up quickly, which made holding it become more and more unbearable for every minute that passed. But Gerhart remained vigilant, trudging over sand dunes and always keeping a sharp eye out for Brits or Americans, pausing for a split second to wipe his brow or adjust his Tropenhelm. At one point, Gerhart saw an eagle soaring high above him. He thought about shooting it for a moment, but then he remembered that the eagle was the symbol of Germany and the Luftwaffe. Gerhart just continued until he saw it, the one thing he never thought he would see…

“Wasser! Endlich! Wasser! (Water! At Last! Water!)” said Gerhart. With a new found burst of energy, he ran towards the large oasis.

The oasis was surrounded by small shrubs, flowers, and palm trees, like something out of a storybook. When Gerhart was close enough, he bent down and drank some of the water.

“Ich danke dir, Gott, ich danke Ihnen! (Thank you, God, thank you!)” Gerhart shouted after drinking his fill.

Then, a sound Gerhart did not want to hear rang across the oasis: someone speaking English: “Did you hear that?”

“Scheiße! (S***!)” said Gerhart. He took off at a dead sprint from the edge of the oasis ran behind the nearest dune. He sat crouched below the crest of the dune, just out of eyesight.

He could hear the same voice speak again, “There’s tracks here. They aren’t pony tracks, and it looks like whatever came here… went over that dune over there. At least it left. But we'd better be careful, who knows what vicious creature could be living in this desert.”

Gerhart became increasingly worried. He cursed himself for being so stupid. There were probably British soldiers there, encamped.  There even could’ve been an airfield or command post, and Gerhart knew English very well. But what threw him was the way the person spoke. “Englisch sprechenden Einheimischen, die Ponys zu erhöhen? (English speaking locals that raise ponies?)” thought Gerhart. Nonetheless, Gerhart remembered the number of dunes from where the Stuka was to where the oasis was as he was walking back to Karl, which gave him directions. Miraculously, he didn’t get lost while trying to find his way back. When he arrived, Karl was laying the shade of the Stuka’s wing, stripped down to his pants and his Tropenhelm tipped over his face.

“Was gibt es Neues von der Front? (What news from the front?)” said Karl, pushing up his Tropenhelm to reveal a grinning face.

“Die gute Nachricht: Ich fand Wasser... und Menschen (Good news: I found water... and people),” said Gerhart.