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The desert sun, a shimmering hazy sheet, 
A jeep's low rumble on the burning shifting heat. 
That opening theme, a brassy bold fanfare, 
Announcing danger hanging in the air.

Remember Troy and Moffitt, Hitchcock, Tully too, 
Four rugged figures in that khaki dusty hue. 
Against the Afrika Korps, a constant daring fight, 
Beneath the endless canvas of the desert night.

Their battered jeeps, a symbol of their might, 
Darting through the dunes in shadows and in light.
Machine guns chattering, a furious spitting sound, 
As German trucks went tumbling upon the sandy ground.

The cat-and-mouse pursuit, a tense and thrilling game, 
Outsmarting Rommel's forces, whispering his name 
With grudging respect for cunning and for skill, 
While plotting their next move on some far-off lonely hill.

That German captain Hauptmann Dietrich's stare, 
A worthy adversary always lurking there. 
The radio crackling voices tense and low, 
As plans were hatched and traps were set to go.

Each episode a mission fraught with risk and speed, 
Planting demolition answering freedom's need. 
The camaraderie they shared, a bond forged in the fray, Surviving scorching days and dangers come what may.

The vast unending landscape, a character itself, 
The burning thirst, the mirages on the shelf 
Of distant horizons, a constant harsh reminder, 
Of the brutal beauty of the land behind and yonder.

Now vintage channels flicker with that grainy, desert scene, 
A nostalgic echo of heroes lean and keen. 
The Rat Patrol forever in our minds they roam, 
Beneath the desert stars so far away from home.

©bfa040825

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