Even just the thought of her brought him comfort, so he called to her again with dry lips:
“Melina…”
He felt cool fingers running through his hair again, and it was as if this time they were caressing his very brain, or perhaps more likely his mind. The convoy they were protecting had just passed the small town of Mechili and had about 150 kilometers to Tobruk, when the Germans appeared. “Be careful with the water. How long, he wondered, would it be before he knew she was missing in action? “Tell me more!” He pleaded with the voice that was not Melina’s. One was to keep the fighter planes busy, and the second group was to attack the convoy at all costs and stop it. How did you sleep?”
The dialog continued all the way through the fourth day and this time he didn’t find it hard at all. The paper was cool and seemed to bring him some comfort. He didn’t see any parachutes, but it didn’t seem fair play to shoot at parachutists anyway, so he turned briefly north and, as he pulled out the map to get a more precise heading, he had a strange feeling that something was wrong.
