John Schettler: Three Kings

He took his helmet off for a moment, and let the last of the blowing sand sting his face, almost as if he needed to feel the pain to be certain he was still alive. He caught a last glimpse of the crescent moon above, cold and unforgiving, the moon that should not even be there! Then he slowly fixed his helmet in place, adjusted his eye goggles, and turned to his Staff Officer Simpson.

“What do you make of this, Sim? Are we both crazy?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, sir. What could have happened here? I don’t understand.”

Kinlan took a long breath. “Who do we have on the left flank guard?”

“Lieutenant Dobie, sir. 2nd Squadron, 12th Royal Lancers. He’s got the Scimitars, about 15 miles north ofSiwa.”

“Tell him to get down there and have a look around. He’s to see if he finds any sign of an Australian unit there-A Colonel Fergusson. Got that?”

“Yes sir. I’ll get him moving right away.”

Kinlan took another long look around the stony plateau where the enormous BP facility had been just two hours ago. It wasn’t burned, or blasted. It wasn’t buried by the sand storm, or carted off by the Berbers, but he knew one thing-it wasn’t here either. Sultan Apache was gone.

The Russian Captain told him it would be gone, and he also told him why. If this were true… If he was the one that went missing in 2021… He resolved to have another chat with the man right away.

My god, he thought. If Dobie radios back that he’s found this Fergusson fellow, then that’s the last straw. But what in the world do I do now? I’ve a full brigade here, men, tanks, IFVs, and a supply train a mile long. I should be half way toMersaMatruh by now, and I suppose that’s my only play. My god! Could it be true? Could I be standing here in 1941 like this crazy Russian Captain says?

He returned to the command vehicle and they started back for the main column. By the time he got there, he had a report back from Lieutenant Dobie. He had found what looked to be an ill equipped company of Australian infantry atSiwa. They had a few old lorries, and yes, a man came forward calling himself Colonel Fergusson, wanting to know who he was and how he came to be here, but happy to have any reinforcement Wavell could give him.

“He said that?” Kinlan returned on the radio. “Wavell?”

“That was the name he used, sir. And there’s another officer here that says he’s with the 7th Armored. He’s even got the Jerboa patch, and a battery of four artillery pieces, field guns, General. But they look like the old 25 pounders!”

“Very well, Lieutenant. Return to the column, Kinlan out.”

The General took off his helmet, rubbed the weariness from his eyes, and took a long breath. He could hear his Communications Group working their systems, but all the normal military channels remained dark. Maybe if he just hunkered down for the night here he would wake up tomorrow morning and all this would just be a bad dream. Any sane man would have thought that, but he no longer numbered himself among that group.

Off in the distance he heard the AM band radio playing at one of the comm stations. A staffer was there, listening, and hearing news of Rommel’s advance and the British retreat to Tobruk! Then Simpson was back, looking crestfallen and somewhat pale.

“Sir,” he said. “We’ve just gotten through to someone in Alexandria, and he’s hopping mad.”

“Who? Dempsy?” Kinlan hoped they had finally made contact with reality again, as GeneralDempsy was the liaison officer working out of Cairo.

“No sir… A General Wavell…” Simpson rubbed his forehead. “He wants to know what in blazes is going on out here, what happen to his rescue mission to find O’Connor and where the general is. And he wants to speak with you, sir, directly.”

Kinlan smiled. He was about to be chewed out by a man who had been dead 71 years! “Tell him to stand by, I’m on my way.”

“Yes sir… But General Kinlan, sir…” Sims had a lost look on his face. He had seen and heard all the impossible evidence himself, yet was still in a state of shock and disbelief. “What are we going to do here, General?”

“What are we going to do?” Kinlan shook his head. “Well I think I’ll go over and take my lumps from Wavell first. Then I expect we’ll take this brigade north toMersaMatruh, just as we planned it, and if we run into a gentlemen named Erwin Rommel… I’m going to kick his German ass, half way from here to Berlin!”