Sahara Adventure Series

5. THE FORT IS QUIET-1

Through the heat waves, it seems as if the dunes are swimming and floating, as if the very earth’s crust is moving up and down and forming long, swaying folds in the boiling mass of the desert. It is already late in the afternoon here in the southeastern part of the Sahara. This was a terrible day, easily one of the worst days these hardened men have ever experienced while walking through the sands of the desert. Their foot soles feel just about cooked because of the baking heat of this long day that has even burnt their feet through their thick boots. The rucksacks are like lead on their backs, and they have difficulty seeing, as the sun’s glare and the sweat from their brows have severely burnt their eyes. It seems like months since they left Dini Salam, although it has only been a few days. While walking through the desert, they experience such a sense of gloom that it feels like they have no tomorrow or future. They are dead to the world with no energy or interest in anything.

“If we should come across some Arabs now, they will be able to kill me with an oxtail,” sighs Fritz Mundt, the biggest man in the French Foreign Legion. “They can do anything to me they wish, and I will not even be able to put up a fight.”

“If I should find a bed now, I will sleep for a whole week,” says Teuns Stegmann, the tall, blonde South African walking next to Fritz. “I do not think I have ever been so tired in my life before. This is pure murder, this marching through the desert. It looks to me as if the Sahara is also trying to punish us, like the Legion.”

“Before you bury me, I would like to have a wiener schnitzel and a huge flask of Italian Chianti on ice,” Jack Ritchie offers his opinion. He is walking in the same row as Stegmann and Mundt. These two look sharply at the blonde Englishman as if he has committed a crime by conjuring up such a vision with his words.

“I do not think you have all your ducks in a row,” snorts Teuns Stegmann, “otherwise you would not have spoken such nonsense under these circumstances.”

“Have you lost your mind, Englishman?” Fritz explodes. “Do not you realize we are on our way to Fort Laval? Do not you know that we will have to survive for three months on dry bread, fruit, and tins of meat? Therefore, a law that prohibits any man from talking about food and cold wine while another man is dying of thirst and hunger should be implemented!”

“They should put them up against a wall in front of a firing squad,” Teuns suggests.

“I was only dreaming out loud,” says Jack apologetically. “If a man cannot eat and drink, he can at least dream about it, right?”

“The next time you start dreaming, do it in silence. We do not want to hear it.” Fritz spits out a piece of rolling tobacco into the sand. He takes out his flask and holds it in front of his mouth, but it is a futile gesture. All the water is gone.

“You do not have to throw hints every time you want some water, Fritz Mundt,” Jack Ritchie admonishes him. “You only have to ask.”

The German smiles at Jack as he hands him the flask. “You might as well finish these last drops of water. You have already guzzled up most of my water,” says the Englishman.

“You have such a good heart. They should award you the Croix de Guerre,” Fritz mocks him, takes the flask from Jack, and takes a big swallow. “In any case, we should reach the fort at about twilight, and then we can have more water and eat some of those wonderful, nutritious stone breads.”

“The only thing that will work for you, Field Marshall Rommel,” Teuns tells the German, “is for them to send along a pack mule with two vats of water every time we go on patrol. You always finish our water but still do not have enough.”

“Or two kegs of beer,” quips Jack Ritchie.

Fritz kicks the Englishman on his shin and orders. “Stop it! It is bad enough to mention wine, but beer…! I will cave your head in if you talk about beer again.” He wipes the sweat off his big face.

“This is your entire fault that the three of us are currently walking here, Fritz Mundt,” Teuns reasons and adjusts the straps of his backpack because it feels like it is cutting through his shoulder blades. “If you had not hit that miserable yellow beak the other night, we would not have been on our way to Fort Laval now.”

“Yes, he must always be different and cannot keep his paws off the Arabs,” Jack Ritchie adds accusingly.

“That was my business, and I did not ask for your help,” roars Fritz.

“If it were not for the two of us, those thugs in the bar would have killed you,” Teuns reminds the big German.

“And now we are sitting in his situation,” Jack continues, “three months in that hateful little fort at the end of the earth, miles away from Dini Salam.”

“Someone had to go and relieve the garrison anyway,” Fritz tries to defend himself because he feels guilty that the other two have also been sent to Fort Laval as punishment. And all because the three of them fought with the Arabs and cleaned the floor with them.

“Yes, but it did not have to be us,” Teuns emphasizes. “There is enough riff-raff in Dini Salam that could have been sent to relieve the garrison.”

“We will get you back yet, Fritz Mundt,” Jack threatens. “We might even throw some magic powder into your food.”

“He-he-he,” Fritz laughs raucously and wipes his face again. “Why are you guys so worried? We can rest for three months there because there is nothing else to do there. I have been there before. The only thing you can do there is to kill flies and sand fleas. Furthermore, you sleep and dream about the wonderful outside world, out of your reach, while you are dying of boredom and misery.”

“What does a man do for three months in this godforsaken place?” Teuns wants to know.

“Nothing,” answers the German. “I told you nothing. That is the whole point of the punishment for our big transgression. In the Sahara, boredom is the biggest punishment, my brothers, and that is why we have been sent here.”

“Man, I do not like this mess we are in,” groans Jack Ritchie. “This place is just too isolated. What can a garrison of thirty men accomplish if the Arabs get up to shenanigans?”

“Nothing,” Fritz interrupts. “You can die for king and country, and the moment the Arabs have finished with you, the vultures will pick your bones. But do not fret, Englishman with the white liver. Nothing will happen while we are here. On the contrary, we will play with our toes and get on one another’s nerves because the Arabs are well-behaved.”

“I do not know about that,” says Teuns. “They have been much too quiet to my liking. I think something is brewing again.”

“Well, if they come and bother us, at least we will have something to keep us busy,” says Fritz.

“And what will we do when they decide to attack us? We are only a pitiful group of thirty men,” Jack Ritchie complains.

“We will catch them with bird glue,” teases Fritz, and then they suddenly stop because Lieutenant Juin, the young French officer with the pale complexion and bright eyes, has put his hand in the air.

They are standing on the edge of a high sand plateau that falls to an immeasurable sand plain that stretches away as far as the eye can see.

“Hurray!” shouts Fritz Mundt. “Here, right before us, lies our quiet destination, the oasis at the end of our eventful journey, Fort Laval, an outpost of the French Foreign Legion. Look at it, guys, and regain your courage.”

And far down beneath them on the sandy plain, they can see the small fort that looks more like an ant heap than an outpost of the French Foreign Legion.

“Beautiful landscape, do not you think?” Fritz asks of Teuns and Jack, looking at the desolate world before them with apparent interest.

“What a dump. I thought there was an oasis here at Fort Laval?” Teuns mumbles.

Fritz gives a deep belly laugh and tells the South African. “You have very much misjudged this place, mon ami. There is not one blade of grass within a hundred and fifty kilometers of Fort Laval, not even mentioning an oasis with water and trees.”

mon ami“Where do they get water from?” asks the Englishman.

“There is a small well inside the fort,” answers Fritz. “It is a strange business, but it is there. That is why this fort was built at this specific place, although from a military point of view, the location is not great. Here where we are standing on the ridge of the plateau is the best place, but there is no water here.”

“We will rest here for ten minutes,” Lieutenant Juin’s voice carries through the silence. “Then we will continue towards Fort Laval. I see the Three-Color is still flapping from the mast, mes amis,” he tells the thirty soldiers with him as if to give them new hope.

mes amis“If the Three-Color is still hoisted, it means that at least the garrison is still there,” mumbles Teuns Stegmann.

“Why do you say that?” asks Jack Ritchie. “Why would not they still be there?”

“I do not know,” answers the South African. “This is such a dreary place that it is kind of strange to me that we will meet up with other members of the French Foreign Legion shortly. I get this distinct feeling that nobody is alive there anymore.”

Fritz looks at the South African with a thoughtful expression on his face but does not speak. He also has this funny feeling inside of him and cannot explain it. With his long career in the desert, he has been in narrow scrapes before, which is why he is never really at ease. He constantly expects some or other setback as if a disaster awaits around every corner.

Fritz narrows his eyes against the glare of the desert light, and far away, he sees the white and red of the French Three-Color fluttering on top of the fort. They sit in the hot sand and finish the last of their water.

* * *

It is already dusk when the small convoy nears the fort. The tiny Fort Laval was built in a sort of circle. They used sandstone that the French managed to bring here long ago. It is one of the French Foreign Legion’s smallest and most distant forts. It can house fifty men at most, but in times of peace, the French accommodate no more than thirty men here, together with a lieutenant and a sergeant. They get relieved every three months. Because of the fort’s relatively small size, distant location, and nothing more than a front post, it has been built quite sturdy and tall, so it would be challenging to conquer, even with its small garrison. The reason is simply that the fort should be able to withstand an attack until reinforcements can be sent. They are also in radio contact with Dini Salam.