Pettigrew, Tully Pettigrew

Rat Patrol Fanfic.

I had always assumed that it would never happen to me. I had been one of the four most wanted men by the Nazis Afrika corps, a member of the Rat Patrol. We'd been working the whole war to eradicate Rommel and his desert rats. We had done espionage, sabotage, and anything to harass the enemy ... through all of that time, I had only been pegged two or three times, and captured once. On purpose. The one who usually got shot was Hitch, I swear the Germans have a target only they can see drawn on his back ... either that, or it's his red hat. Moffit was always the one who got captured after pretending to be a German. Then he usually got the daylights punched out of him and somehow got back to us. Sarge? He's been shot, and beat up, but somehow that never seems to faze him. Me? I never saw it coming.

I never thought I would get hurt too bad. Or captured not of my own accord. I was just the quiet driver. The silent gunner. The window watcher ... now ... I was captured. It hadn't exactly been my fault. We were taking out a German column, when a shot got Moffit, he fell off the back of the Jeep, and I kept on driving. I couldn't let them get him. I turned around, and drove right towards them, ... somehow, I felt something akin to a Kamikaze. I drove with my left hand and picked up the grenade in the seat next to me with my right. I took out a tank with that thing. Maybe I should be proud, I dunno. I then picked up the gun in the seat next to me, and peppered them with one handed shots. I took down a truck-full of them, and then kept on driving. That's when they got me. I knew I was shot when I felt a white hot poker drive it's way through my shoulder. I shuddered, dropping the gun in the seat next to me and letting my right arm go limp. I continued driving with my left hand, taking a sharp right and circling around them. I was so tense, I had bitten my matchstick in half! A bullet hit the back of the Jeep and a fire started, but I kept going. I hoped my pa would be proud as I aimed my jeep at the second to last truck. I pushed the pedal to the metal, heading straight for it. Right before I hit the truck, I dove out. I heard the blast, and felt something hit me in the head. As far as I was concerned, I was dead. 

I woke up to a migrane and a burning shoulder. It took my eyes a minute to focus, and when they did I sighed. I wasn't dead. I was captured. I couldn't imagine anything worse than being captured by Nazis. I thought about interrogation, and knew that I was going to have a long, drawn out death. I wondered if I would say anything. When Troy had a gun to his head, he would always reason with the guy holding it, trying to talk them out of it, ... confusing them. I wasn't good at that. Then there was Moffit, who when he was captured, he somehow always managed to make a joke. Then there was Hitch, who almost never moaned, even when he was an inch away from death. That's when I made the promise to myself, I wasn't going to say a word. I wouldn't even say my name, rank, much less my serial number! I would not say a word. Not one. I would ignore them. I wouldn't even look at them. I was steeling myself in this fashion when the door opened. "Hello Private." A thickly accented German voice spoke, "I need to ask you a few questions." I looked determinedly down at the floor, and let my eyes go out of focus. ... This was going to be a long death.

* * *

I awoke like I had for the past who knew how long. From what I could feel, I was still in the holding chair. I felt a dull throbbing in my side, and realized that whoever was supposed to take the knife out had forgotten. Oh well. I heard a dull clanging sound, and a bunch of muffled sounds. Voices. I had grown used to it. Blurry shapes moved back and forth in front of me, and I felt a sharp pain as they removed the knife. Then they must have sewed it up. They always did. They cut me up, let me bleed, sewed me up, let me recover, then cut me up again. Really, it had gotten old after the third time. I felt my legs drag across the coarse stones as they took me back to my cell. All I could do these days was feel. My eyes were always unfocused, my ears could only hear faraway muffled sounds that I ignored anyway. They dumped me in my cell, just like usual. Wait ... the blurred colors were not that of my usual cell, apparently it was the starvation cell ... every once in a while, they would starve me for a bit. It didn't really affect me. It's not like they gave me much to eat anyway. So I just dragged myself to the wall and leaned against it, letting my thoughts pull me elsewhere ... back to my little high-walled world. 

I was back in a Jeep, driving so fast that the sand on either side of me was flying at least three feet high. I heard a man in the back, shooting at the Germans. For some reason, I couldn't quite put my finger on his name.  Mollify? Maryanne? All I could remember was that it started with an M. Oh well. I kept on driving, and I saw another Jeep up ahead. I pulled over next to it, ... there were two familiar figures in it, I could only barely make out their blurred shapes. But I couldn't remember their names either. Higgins? Harrington? Sarren? Stoic? I could only think of the first letters. One of them said something, but I couldn't hear it. One of the other ones said something, but I couldn't catch it either. It went like that for a while, and then we were driving again. Gunfire penetrated my ignorant ears, and I woke up with a jolt. 

I was back in my boring grey cell. Great. I wasn't sure how long it had been, but I saw shapes moving, and knew that I must have healed, or else they wouldn't have come to get me again. They picked me up roughly, and soon I was strapped back in the holding chair. Someone said something. I ignored it. I felt a pain. It was small, but then it grew, blossoming in my left leg. Another pain started in my shoulder, slowly blossoming as well. I didn't make a sound. Apparently, that made them mad, because I was suddenly facing the side after a thoroughly hard slap. I ignored it. That's when the ultimate pain came. It was a burning sensation on the palm of my right hand. I wanted to scream more than anything else. But I remained silent. More pain in various places, and then I was being dragged back to my cell. It wasn't the starvation cell this time. It was my regular one. A lighter grey than the starvation cell, and just as bare. They gave me food, and for some reason, I didn't eat it. I wasn't hungry. Instead, I went back. Back into the safety of my mind. 

I was sitting in a strange building, that after a moment, I realized was a tent. I was also sitting across from M. He said something that I didn't understand, then moved something on a mottled board between us. I found myself smiling, and moving something on it as well. S came in and said something that made M laugh and me smile even bigger. Then H came in behind him, saying something that made everyone laugh! I felt happy. Happier than I had in a long, long time. I was just about to laugh, when something woke me up.

This time, I woke up to someone shaking me gently. Must have been a new kid. Well, ... they'd whip the rules into him soon enough. I ignored it. Someone else started trying to get me to stand as well. I ignored it. Whoever they were, they were being way to gentle. Maybe they were being trained. Another person finally came over, and I was picked up and carried gently out. This was new. My feet weren't dragging on the floor as usual, and I felt that I somehow wasn't going to the holding chair this time. It suddenly occurred to me that they were probably going to do the worst torture yet. I struggled against my carrier, but he only held me tighter, and I soon found myself in a soft seat. Too soft. Something bad was going to happen. So I tried to get out. Someone grabbed me, and I felt the seat begin to move. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I realized it was a car. I kept on trying to get out anyway. Finally, something hacked my shoulder, and I fell asleep.

It was a good dream. I was sitting down in soft sand, drinking out of a canteen. S M and H were around me, talking. Laughing. For the first time in a long time, I had the desire to understand what was going on. But even as I began to try, I was being shaken awake again. 

I found myself in a soft, plush bed with three figures standing around me. What they were saying? I didn't know. But something was recognizable about them. At first I couldn't figure out what it was, but then it suddenly hit me. It was S, M and H. It had to be a German trick, but I still wanted to know what they were saying. That's when H and M left. I was left with S. He was talking to me. But I wasn't sure what he was actually saying. Somehow it reminded me of trust, matchsticks and comfort. I knew it was risky, but I had to know what he was saying. So, ever so slowly, I closed my eyes and actually began to try and hear what was going on. It was hard. I could feel beads of sweat popping out on my forehead as I tried to hear. Finally, I heard one word that sent my world spinning, "Tully!" That was me! I remembered! S's voice was so familiar, but I still couldn't remember his name. I pushed myself harder, trying to hear what else he was saying, and finally caught, "Tully. Please listen to me. Don't ........... remember ......... all? ......... us!" I was losing it, but tried ever harder to understand him. I opened my eyes, trying to focus them, and that's when he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. I recoiled, hitting him in my hurry to clamber back to the head of the bed. I curled up, and shut down. 

My dream this time was just as vague as the others. But for some reason, when S came in on this one, I could hear him. I could also half see him. I wanted to ask him for his name, but couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't let myself get attached. If I did, the Germans would get to me. The dream was just so nice! But I couldn't let myself stay in it. No ... I wouldn't let myself be misled by the Nazis. So I woke up.

I was still in the bed, and S was gone. In his place was H. H somehow reminded me of bubble gum and coffee. He was talking in a way that made me want to hear him. It was so muffled. So tempting. I had to hear it. "Tully." It was my name again. I had nearly forgotten. Ignoring my feeling of dread, I continued trying to hear, and finally did ... for a while, "Remember me? You've been gone a month and a half, but you have to remember me! It's me buddy, Hi-" He was cut off by someone else coming into the cell, ... no ... tent. He patted my shoulder, which made me immediately retreat, once again. It was fake. It was German. But no ... I couldn't let myself sleep. I would see my real friends and miss them. These weren't my real friends. It was a trick by the Germans. ... It had to be. I just couldn't afford to get my hopes up. H left, and M came in. M sat on the end of the bed, and started talking to me. I suddenly was reminded of a chess board and tea. It felt good. I wanted so badly to know what he was saying, but couldn't bring myself to try. So instead, I tried to focus my eyes. I tried and tried to focus my eyes. Slowly the two blurry M's were pushed together, and finally became one man. A tall man with dark hair and eyes. His features sharpened, and I suddenly recognized him. His expression was unfathomable, and his gaze unwavering. He continued to speak to me but then stopped, seeming to realize that I was finally looking at him. His mouth moved, speaking only one word, but I knew what it was, "Tully." I continued to stare at him, scared that it was fake. Scared that he would become a German. He turned his head, when H came in, and S right after. All three of them were in high definition now, S was wearing a familiar Australian hat, while H was wearing a bright red kepi. I looked right at S, struggling to remember his name, when H said something to him. I realized I still couldn't hear. At first I didn't want to ... but then I finally did. I focused in my hearing, trying to understand what they were saying. "Do you think he's finally comin' round Sarge?" I finally heard H say, like he was repeating it. That's when everything hit me at once. My Sergeant, he was my Sergeant. My friend, and leader ... what was his name?

"I don't know Hitch." Sarge replied, still looking right at me. Hitch! My buddy! My fellow Private!

"He's looking at us now Troy." M said. 

"I can see that, Moffit." Sarge answered matter-of-factly. Sergeant Sam Troy! My leader, who cared about me and would die for me!  Private Mark T. Hitchcock! My friend who was always talking to me, helping me and being patient with me! Sergeant Jack Moffit! A British doctor that was always playing chess and drinking tea with me! My friends! My family! I wanted to leap for joy, and would have, if it hadn't occurred to me that I didn't know who I was. All I could remember was Tully. It also occurred to me that they might be Germans. I was tired of Germans. I wanted my friends back! 

It only took me a split second to decide what to do next. I leapt up, and ran like I hadn't ran in ages. I ran out of the tent, and towards one of the Jeeps. I leapt inside and started it, driving towards a hill about a mile away. I heard the sound of a Jeep behind me, but didn't stop. Instead, I flipped a tight U-e and then flipped another one as they tried to follow. I finally made it to the edge of the hill and jumped out, collapsing onto my knees as I stared at the sunset staining the desert blood-red. I looked out, straining to see if it was all just a German trick. I sighed when it suddenly dawned on me ... I was out. I was free. I was me. But who was me? I looked down at my hands and discovered something branded on the palm of the right one, a black swastika.  "Tully!" I heard Sarges voice. I wanted to ask him who I was. But I couldn't form the words. I hadn't talked for too long. He ran up next to me and put his hands on my shoulders. I flinched, pulling away slightly, and saw that he had flinched back too. But then I remembered that I was safe. He was real. 

"Pettigrew!" Moffit called as he ran up, and that's when I collapsed into Sarges arms, crying into his shoulder like I was a little child again. Letting the pain and anguish from the past month and a half come out all at once. 

"Whoa, whoa." Sarge talked to me like a horse, "It'll be all right Tully. Tell me about it. Let it all out." 

"Private ..." I barely managed to sob out, my voice croaking from little use, "Private Tully Pettigrew! That's my name!"

"It sure is." Sarge stood there holding me. And Moffit came up from behind with Hitch who was chewing gum again. 

"Thank you." I whispered. "Thank you."

"Anytime." Was his reply and I heard Moffit laugh as he stuck a matchstick in my mouth, which I bit down on with a smile.

"Piece of Cake!" 

"Liar." I smiled.

"Who was there Tully?" Hitch spoke up, "You or us?" That got a laugh from everyone, including me. Everything was going to be all right. I knew it.

I had a lot of nightmares after that day, but I'm getting over them. I know I'll be all right. I still barely talk. But at least I do. Hitch talks to me, and so does Sarge. Moffit? Moffit thanked me for saving him, and said that he regretted not being able to do the same. But then I remembered. He was the one that had gotten me out of my own little world. He was the one. So I told him to forget it, and we played chess over a cup of calming herbal tea. I didn't expect any of that to happen to me. But I've learned from it. Sarge says it'll never happen again. I trust him. 'Cause when he makes a promise. It's kept.

I'm glad for my experience. It's a blessing. I've never quite appreciated who I am before, but now ... I most definitely do. We liberated a soldier from Gestapo headquarters the other day. He was crying and sobbing. But I walked up to him and stuck out my branded hand, "Pettigrew, Tully Pettigrew." ... I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends. 

Author's Note

This is for the Rat patrol, it ended up a lot more intense then I thought it would, but ... oh well. I might write another version of this, but not from his point of view. I don't even know what inspired it. Oh well.

Reviews

[chicandsleek77]

Very raw emotion i loved it.

[Calibaster]

Great! ;) :)

[Farrsight]

No one else has reviewed it, so I will! It made me cry, even when it's my second time seeing it!

[Calibaster]

I'm glad. Not that you cried, but that you liked it.

[Farrsight]

It better not be because I cried!

[Calibaster]

It isn't. I promise! … ;)

[Farrsight]

Hmph. Don't trust anyone these days.

[Calibaster]

Yeah, well that's just you! ;)

[Farrsight]

OH! I am offended!

[Calibaster]

You always are. :/

[Farrsight]

OH!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH!!!!!!!!!!! OH!!!!!!!!!!