wandered without ceasing: left, front, right; right, front, left. Forgotten were cold, cramped limbs and a stomach that growled with hunger. Dawn was plucking away the veil of night and the roofs no longer offered shelter. Not only was the entrance guarded but Jerry patrols now ringed the wall. He'd sent Tully and Wilson back to the building against the Jerry headquarters as their safest haven while he'd spent the dark hours prowling and probing, following the movement of the patrol from above the soldiers' heads, and returned to watch the entrance for new activity. If only they had brought a scaling hook, he thought again as he had all night, they could have been out of the enclosure before the dawn. Now the light of day would disclose them unless he could quickly find a place to hide, some manure heap, compost pit or kitchen oven.
He slithered over one wall after another, running ahead of the patrols he knew the day would see fanning out to pluck burnoose and veil from every Arab, to prod every bundle of rags with bayonet, sweep every rooftop clear of heaps of refuse, salvaged tins and wooden crates. A scaling hook, a scaling hook, the phrase ran through his mind like an obscene refrain. Last night it would have meant escape. This morning it might mean safety, the means to reach the one place he could think of where they might hide, and he was not even sure of that. Where could he find or how could he fashion, a scaling hook? And do it right now before patrols entered Sidi Abd and every wall and roof was under watchful eyes.
Below in the alleys he heard the shambling feet and spiritless grumbling of the night patrol returning to the tent area and he scrambled ahead. On the crazy corner where the alley turned its flank to the entrance, Troy's smirched and tattered robe caught between his knee and ankle and he tripped, falling backwards, wrenching himself forward just before he toppled from the wall. He damned the disguise. Disguise? No longer did the burnoose and robe offer concealment. But the garments might throw the searching parties off the trail for a few minutes. He pulled off the cloth and headpiece, wadded them andflung them far down on the opposite side of the passageway. They settled and draped neatly on the sill of an open window. Troy grinned and ran unimpeded in his thin, bleached khakis. His canteen bumped lightly at his hip and reminded him that he was thirsty. He would drink soon enough but where to find a scaling hook? What Arabian implement, what piece of Jerry equipment could he use to fashion one? The Jerries probably carried a stock of scaling hooks to use on walled towns such as this but he had no idea where their supply dump was and even if he had, there was no time to go there.
Wilson was sleeping with his head on Tully's shoulder against the wall of the building that housed the German headquarters. The Bowie knife was bare in Tully's hand.
Troy snorted, "Were you going to take them on with that, a whole patrol?"
"I got better sense than that, Sarge," Tully said, shaking his head and smiling bleakly. "If they'd found us, I was going to slit Wilson's throat so he couldn't tell them nothing."
Troy nodded his head approvingly.
"What's the scoop?" Tully asked.
"They'll be sifting the town with a sieve in minutes," Troy said. "We'd have a chance if I could find a scaling hook."
"Over the wall?" Tully asked.
"Uh-uh, too late for that." Troy pointed to the roof of the two-story German headquarters building. "You'd spend the day up there."
"Hell, Sarge," Tully said. "You still got the rope. If you think we'd be safe up there, we don't need no scaling hook."
"I'm no fly," Troy said tartly.
"Well, now look," Tully said. He stood and Wilson started to fall to the side, caught himself and sat up sleepy-eyed. Tully stood away from the wall with his feet apart, leaned forward with his back inclined and forearms against the wall. "Now you climb up on my shoulders and brace yourself. Wilson can walk right
He slithered over one wall after another, running ahead of the patrols he knew the day would see fanning out to pluck burnoose and veil from every Arab, to prod every bundle of rags with bayonet, sweep every rooftop clear of heaps of refuse, salvaged tins and wooden crates. A scaling hook, a scaling hook, the phrase ran through his mind like an obscene refrain. Last night it would have meant escape. This morning it might mean safety, the means to reach the one place he could think of where they might hide, and he was not even sure of that. Where could he find or how could he fashion, a scaling hook? And do it right now before patrols entered Sidi Abd and every wall and roof was under watchful eyes.
Below in the alleys he heard the shambling feet and spiritless grumbling of the night patrol returning to the tent area and he scrambled ahead. On the crazy corner where the alley turned its flank to the entrance, Troy's smirched and tattered robe caught between his knee and ankle and he tripped, falling backwards, wrenching himself forward just before he toppled from the wall. He damned the disguise. Disguise? No longer did the burnoose and robe offer concealment. But the garments might throw the searching parties off the trail for a few minutes. He pulled off the cloth and headpiece, wadded them andflung them far down on the opposite side of the passageway. They settled and draped neatly on the sill of an open window. Troy grinned and ran unimpeded in his thin, bleached khakis. His canteen bumped lightly at his hip and reminded him that he was thirsty. He would drink soon enough but where to find a scaling hook? What Arabian implement, what piece of Jerry equipment could he use to fashion one? The Jerries probably carried a stock of scaling hooks to use on walled towns such as this but he had no idea where their supply dump was and even if he had, there was no time to go there.
Wilson was sleeping with his head on Tully's shoulder against the wall of the building that housed the German headquarters. The Bowie knife was bare in Tully's hand.
Troy snorted, "Were you going to take them on with that, a whole patrol?"
"I got better sense than that, Sarge," Tully said, shaking his head and smiling bleakly. "If they'd found us, I was going to slit Wilson's throat so he couldn't tell them nothing."
Troy nodded his head approvingly.
"What's the scoop?" Tully asked.
"They'll be sifting the town with a sieve in minutes," Troy said. "We'd have a chance if I could find a scaling hook."
"Over the wall?" Tully asked.
"Uh-uh, too late for that." Troy pointed to the roof of the two-story German headquarters building. "You'd spend the day up there."
"Hell, Sarge," Tully said. "You still got the rope. If you think we'd be safe up there, we don't need no scaling hook."
"I'm no fly," Troy said tartly.
"Well, now look," Tully said. He stood and Wilson started to fall to the side, caught himself and sat up sleepy-eyed. Tully stood away from the wall with his feet apart, leaned forward with his back inclined and forearms against the wall. "Now you climb up on my shoulders and brace yourself. Wilson can walk right
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