The boy feebly said, “Jardin… au Babylon… francois…”
The corporal shook his head and pointed to the U.S. flag on his shoulder. “English.”
Struggling, the Iraqi finally muttered, "Garden… Babylon… lost.” The effort was too much for the young man and he was beginning to slip away. Smith yanked the water from Wallace’s hand and began giving it to him.
“What in God’s name is going on?” Wallace demanded.
“The French were on to something. There’s riches beyond your wildest dreams hidden not far from here.”
“Are you crazy? Is this a joke or something? We’re going to get court martialed or killed! I’m not being a part of this.”
Smith nodded as he tended to the Iraqi, “Yes you are. We’re going to be famous.” Corporal Smith looked into the glazing eyes of the boy and asked, “Where is the other guide?”
The boy stared at him.
Smith thought hard, “Uh… autre garcon?”
The boy slowly lifted his hand and pointed west. The hand then dropped, never to rise again. One last breath escaped his mouth and was quickly lost to the still air of the desert night night.
52