Lion, Tiger, Bear 1105 a dense coolness that almost made them shiver. Or was it just nerves? she asked herself grimly. A startle; birds shot out and took flight as if knowing Bea was leading a funeral procession of three plus Udad.’Ihe sheer calmness and serenity of the stunning environs both unnerved and soothed her, imagining herself a landscape artist of old, painting furiously, soon to lose the magical light. Crossing an intersection of carts, Bea could scarcely believe their luck. Townfolk were casually entering the mosque for prayers, and that would prove to be a plummy situation, for there would be fewer civilian casualties if the fighting began in earnest. She spied two Tigers under the tarps and nets, backed up to a shadowed corner of the mosque complex, guarded. One was missing. To the left, fifty meters down a street was the headquarters, the 15th Panzer Division flag atop a stepped wood door entrance above an old Italian drop-top sedan painted desert-fashion and dusty, the sun-beaten leather seats long ago ripped. A small commotion commenced, strange noises and laughter, the commanding major exiting the house. Bea dismounted. Lets have a casual look-see. Shit^. so many people, well never get close now. A crowd of Germans, Italians, and excited Siwans gathered in the street to view the bustling excitement. As they neared, Gwafa parted the seas for Udad then stopped in his tracks. A large wooden cage had been placed in a shaded alcove; in it was a roaring female lion with her two cubs, all three hundred-plus pounds of her. His eyes went wide. Mercier By some miracle of poking sticks, distraction, and sleight of hand, one of the cubs was now in a Germans arms, with other troops patting and fawning over the fierce little cat. No tigers to be had in Africa, kameraden, but shell do! Laughter enveloped thesergeant. Our new mascot. The cigar-smoking commander, an aristocratic major by the jaunty jodhpur look of him, paid a trader in silver coins and ordered crates of local vegetables and fruit loaded up into an old French truck, payment in full to a robed pack of black marketers, eager to make the conquering Germans happy with whatever they desired or lusted for. The major fitted his olive pith helmet on and turned to his translator. Tell him a cub or two vould have sufficed, but a whole shitting family, Gott… Lets name her Marlena!yelled a soldier, thinking of actress Dietrich. Look how cute. What about the male cub? Well name him Irwin!