Soon him and Lieutenant Rice were surrounded. The attackers weren't soldiers, they were civilians and they had no rifles. They were armed with home made spears, axes, machetes. He lashed out with his rifle butt and his bayonet again and again, but they kept coming at them.
Suddenly a man came up behind the lieutenant, his axe raised, ready to strike. Samuel saw him but could do nothing, then one of the lieutenant's men came flying out of the darkness deflecting the axe so it hit the wall, not the lieutenant. Then he fought the man to the ground, somehow got the axe away from him, and drove it into his face three times. Then the soldier rose and came at the others with such fury that their desire to fight left them and they began to flee into the night.
Samuel reloaded and shot several before they again disappeared into the darkness. He didn't like shooting those that were fleeing but if he didn't they'd more than likely come back again. When everything had quieted down the lieutenant screamed at the soldier as she bandaged his wounded leg.
"Corporal Polley, you damned idiot! What in the hell did you think you were doing? Where's your damned weapon?"
"Saving your life!" the corporal answered. "And, over there. The bayonet's stuck and I couldn't disconnect it!"
"There!" the lieutenant snapped. "Retrieve your weapon and when this is all over I'll give you some personal instructions on the use of a bayonet. You're not hurt THAT bad!"
A runner came up. "Sir!" he announced, "The other position reports it's getting light enough to see the enemy's pulling back. We've got light casualties but a lot of wounded."
Samuel looked up. The sky was clearing. "We'll have help soon," he announced. "Tell everybody to sit tight."
The man hurried off. The lieutenant leaned up against the wall and looked at her soldier, finally managing to withdraw his bayonet. "That man has GOT to be the worst damned soldier in the world!" she remarked. "I still can't understand how he ever made corporal."
"I don't know," Samuel answered, kicking the man's body that had almost killed the lieutenant. "I think he did pretty good, considering this guy outweighed him by about forty pounds. Take a great deal of skill to bring an adversary like that down with your bare hands!"
The lieutenant stared for a moment, then nodded. A couple of hours later somebody cried "White flag! White flag!"
Samuel jumped up. Several men were approaching waving a large white banner. Samuel went out to meet them.
"Our leader's dead," one of them announced. "We've had enough! The Crusaders wanted us to keep fighting, but we've had enough. We've disarmed them, shot the ones that resisted. Please, come! Come into the city. Restore order. We're yours. And PLEASE, radio the damned Americans! Tell them we give up! Nothing stops them; the rain, the mud, the rivers...nothing! They just keep coming!"
"Order your troops to put up white flags," Samuel snapped, "and lay down their arms. They will be well treated. Bring your prisoners up here to us. Have your people maintain order until we can begin patrols. We will tolerate no looting. Those who act with dignity will be treated with dignity. Those who do not will be SEVERELY punished."
"I understand," the man answered.
About an hour later trucks appeared on the road flying the French and Libyan flag, their commander came up to Samuel. "First French," he announced, "Captain Dumont, sir. What orders?"
"Deploy your people into the city," Samuel ordered, "maintain order. Help the wounded. Form a burial detail, something must be done with these bodies as quickly as possible. I'll leave it to you, captain. I, myself, am going to get some sleep."
"Understood, sir!" the captain snapped. He began to scream orders in French. Men piled from the trucks. Samuel found his sleeping bag, laid down in it, let sleep overwhelm him.

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