“We have company, mon Sergent,” Fritz Mundt tells Sergeant Catroux unnecessarily.
mon Sergent“I have gathered that much, mon ami. Maybe it is an Arab that had come to seek shelter from the storm. He must be an outsider because this small oasis is apparently uninhabited.”
mon amiTeuns Stegmann lights a match, and the flame gutters and flickers because the storm is breathing even inside the clay hut. In the short flickering of the match, the men see something that makes them forget their weariness, and it chills them to the bone.
“Mon Dieu!” is all that Sergeant Catroux manages to get out, and then he repeats it. “Mon Dieu!” He sounds like a child that is looking upon something in total wonder.
Mon DieuMon DieuThe men move forward, and suddenly fingers are on the triggers of the long Leb
