 Tired of the everyday grind, ever dream of a life of romantic adventure? Want to get away from it all? We offer you escape. Escape, designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. You are staggering across the blazing Sahara, your body charred by the sun. While somewhere ahead of you, lying and wait for you, is a tribe of natives, ready to either make you their king or kill you. Listen now, as escape brings you less crutch feels, exciting story, diary of a madman. From Berliner's history of the Second World War, volume two, page 98. During the month of November 1942, the disintegrating German forces in North Africa, with the British Eighth Army doggedly at their heels, moved wirily westward. Morale was low, and desertions frequent. But the soldiers of the Third Reich, who singly or in small groups, struck southward into the terrible vastness of the Sahara, soon found the blazing days and the freezing nights, and the dry and lonely cruelty of the desert, far more formidable than any mortal foe. The fate of most is unknown, for few of them were ever heard of again. North Africa, November 24th, 1942. Today, I begin my diary. The diary of und Offizier Hans Brock, German Fifteenth Armored Division. Entry number one. Nine p.m. A light wind is throwing a haze of dust and fine sand over the Bivouac area, and visibility is poor. A perfect night for it. They are waiting for me now, out at the last outpost on our southern flank. I pick them myself. Ten men who fear neither god nor devil. Desperate men who stand ready to gamble with death, for a chance at an empire. Gepo. Where is it? Hans. Where are you? Over here. Pleasure, Lightman. Here, Hans. Yeah, I see it. Turn it off now. Are we all here? Yeah. No one missing? We are all here, Hans. Then let us not waste time. There's a lot to be done before morning. All right, you men. All of you know the general plan, and all of you have agreed to it. What remains now are the details and the final decision. But the details first, Hans. What equipment? Supplies? Arms? Our transportation you saw in the flashlight. A D7 half-track with sandpires overhauled this morning in excellent condition. Good choice. It's light and fast. We have 450 liters of gasoline, 200 liters of water. More than sufficient. We have reached Tel Ameel Oasis in less than three days. With luck. No, it's a matter of planning, Carl. Not luck. As for food, there is plenty. Ammunition? 3,000 rounds for the schmeissers? 2,000 for your side arms. But the gasoline, Hans, is not enough. It's 1,500 miles to the Niagara. Roughly, yeah. The fuel will take us 1,000 miles. After that, we walk. Exactly. But by then, there will be no danger of pursuit and no Arabs. The Oasis are close together and there's plenty of wild game. And the price is more than worth the hardship. The Empire of the Niger has a million native subjects, slaves, taking their orders from us. Yeah, that's it, Kebou. A half-million of them. Hating the French, ready to revolt. Ah. Hours for the asking. The Empire of the Niger with every one of us, a king. Ah, yeah. The alternative. Retreat. Day after day, with the British behind us and the Americans ahead. And no reinforcements now or ever. Back there is the camp and retreat. South of us, beyond the desert, is an empire. Our empire. 4 PM, November 25th. The heat is terrific. We are lying in the hollow between two sand dunes with a camouflage net covering the truck. Until we are farther south with their travel only at night. Four German scout planes have passed over during the day. The Luftwaffe has orders to strafe any desert as cited. But fortunately, the breeze continues and our tracks are covered by drifting sand. Morale of the men is good. Respect's excellent. Just now, they are making ready for the night's run. My lord in France, ready when you are. Right with you, car. I think we'll reach the Tel-Amyloesis before morning. Yeah. Unless they run into too much drifting sand. They're two of them! Quick! I've seen us down. Get down. They've hit the truck. Come on, car. They've got to sail some of that water, if nothing else. Stay back, Hans, before you'll miss it. Got to take a chance. You need water. Give me a hand. Who was killed, Gepo? Everyone, I think. Except me and Manny. They were all on the truck. Here's one, Ted. Take it quick. All right. I've got to take care, Hans. Manny's got one. You better get away before that other gas drum goes. Yeah, the fire's all around it. Come on. Yeah, four of us left. Four out of eleven. Seven of us dead. This is far enough for I'll put them down. Those were German planes. They may come back, Hans. They did a good job. Greetings from the Fatherland. Too bad we couldn't get the food off the truck. Some of it was blown clear. I saw two cartons over there in the sand. And we have 36 liters of water. That should be enough. Enough for what, Hans? To take up the telomiloasis. What else? But, Hans, that's only the beginning. Somehow I didn't think the desert was so empty. So? Well, it is not empty behind us, Manny. It's full of firing squads. We just had a sample of what we expect. We'd like to go back for more of it. Hans is right. We made our decision, so why change it? We knew there would be trouble. What about the Arabs? They get paid a bounty to bring in the Serbs. We still have our pistols. What odds do you want before you'll play? There is an empire waiting in the south. Waiting for the four of us. Hours for the taking. All hours. Four kings. Equals. Brothers. Kings of the niger. A glorious thing the way you say it. Yeah. It is the carrot dangling its a donkey's nose. Well, no matter. I, too, am a donkey. Shall we start? On the end of November 30th. Made camp. No danger now from planes, but it's too hot to travel during the day. Also, more danger from roving bands of Arabs in daylight. Morale is bad. Carl is the worst. Always cynical. Tongue in cheek. I should not have picked him. The other two can be led. Or to reach Telameel Oasis in three more days. We have to reach it. For a.m. December the 3rd. Rest halt. Expect to find Oasis by dawn or soon after. Gippo acting strangely. His nerve is gone. Carl does not change. And may prove the strongest of the three in the long run. Though he doesn't believe in anything, he doesn't fear anything. Neither do I. 8.20 a.m. We found the Oasis. Look! Look! Water! Breeze and water. Breeze to hide us from that sun. Breeze. My empire. Oh, tree. No. Oh, no. Hans. Hans. There's no water. It's dry. Sometimes it's below the sun here. You have to dig for it. Here. All we have to do is dig down. It's no use, Hans. Somebody has dug down. There are holes all over here. 6 and 8 feet deep. Dry. Born dry. You said there will be water, Hans. Trees and shade. The trees are dead. And there is no water, Hans. Yeah, stop it. There is no water. That's that. We'll have to reduce drinking rations, of course. It will take us a week to reach. I will muck the next Oasis. A week and a half, Hans. It's the best. And if it too is dry, then what? It is the end. I will go no farther, Hans. You lied to us, promised us water. Blinded us with your dream. We still have water. We still have food. We will go on. Hans. Among brothers and equals, I think all should have a voice and a decision. So. Very well. Speak up, then. What is it you want? Let's turn back and take our chances. We could rejoin some other unit. They wouldn't shoot us. Better yet, we could look for the British columns and give ourselves up. It's better than dying in the desert. Aren't you, Carl? I'm inclined to go along with them, Hans. It was a good idea, but it didn't work. I see. Very well, Hans. Hans, what are you going to do? Hans, you can't drive us across the Sahara at the point of a gun. I don't intend to. I am removing the clip, dropping it on the ground, and returning the gun to my holster. Now, if any one of you attempts to turn back north, I will kill him. At the moment, I am unarmed. If you wish to give up and go back, you'd better shoot me now. All of you have guns? What are you waiting for? We wouldn't do that, Hans. Shoot you down cold blood. I will shoot you, Manny, if you try to turn back. Well? You devil. You know we can't do it. We were given the chance, though. All right, time is up. Let's fight a gamble, Hans. Why not? There's an empire at stake. All right now, let's march. 9.15 p.m., December 8th, five days south of Tel-Amyl, at about the same distance from Abelmak, in spite of forced marches in the heat of day. Gepo increasingly worse. I watch him constantly. He's weakening physically, but seems mentally sound. Carl? Who knows? I myself am gaining strength. The dream of empire. How can food and drink even compare with it? Why do the others not see it? They're fools. Fools and curds. We rest here an hour, and then go on. Hans? I've got to have water, Hans. My throat is killing me, and my head screams inside. We all feel that way. You had your ration when we stopped. But I'm dying. I begin to hear voices speaking to me from the sand, whispers in the wind, strange sounds all around. Let him have an extra ration, Hans. We don't have to cut it that short. No, he'll stay on the ration we set and make the best of it until we get to Abelmak. No, I can't, I tell you. Don't move anyone. I'll shoot anyone who moves. Gepo, put away that pistol. No. I'm going to drink. For the last time, Gepo. It's beautiful, clear water. Hans, you killed him. You fool. You just sit there and let that water run out on the sand. There. Kill Gepo. Kings equals brothers, except for brother Gepo. Three kings now, Hans. You saw what he did. He defied all of us. I have mutinied. How can a king mutiny, Hans? All right. In the emergency such as that, someone has to act and act quickly. It was his own fault. I don't feel any better about it than you do. Look at it differently when they get to Abelmak and find water. Everything will be all right then. You wait and see. 2.45 p.m., December 16th. A progress grows slower. Day or night, we stop now only when we drop exhausted. We rest an hour and go on. Large oasis of Abelmak is still five or six days away. There will be water at Abelmak. I must keep saying that, believing it, making carl and money believe it, it is only the strength of my dream that drives them on. How to make kings from such material? A problem indeed. 3.00 p.m., time to go on. You ready, carl? Any time. Manny? Hans, I have to rest a little while longer. You have been here half an hour, Manny. And we stopped only an hour before that. No, no, but just five minutes, Hans. Try getting on your feet. You'll feel better standing up. I don't know. Here, Manny, I'll give you a hand. There you are. Thanks, carl, and it was to make it. It'd have to be carried. Well, if we take it in short haul, sir, I'll get his left on here. Leave him alone, carl. Move back. Maybe with a little help. Get up, Manny. Hans, I can't move. Then you... You understand that we cannot take you with us? No, Hans. No. You cannot leave him here like this. Let's go, carl. No, please. At least we can move him under the shelter of those rocks, leave him some food and water, come back for him after we found some waste. We're stale enough water for ourselves. We can't afford to waste it. Wasted? There's no use arguing, carl. Let's go. And if I don't, I will kill you. Now move. Hans, please. No, carl. Manny, I... Goodbye, Manny. No. Don't leave me. He has no right. I expect anything else. I wouldn't if it were me. Oh, can you be sure, Hans? It is a matter of either him dying or all of us dying. I feel bad about it too. You're bearing up well. Well, one of us has to. We cannot give in to sentimental weakness. Speak louder, Hans. Manny is screaming in my ears. We are imagining it, carl. I cannot hear him. I know you cannot. 7 p.m., December 19th. Today has been the most terrible of all. There was no wind, and the sun flamed with a fury impossible to describe. Our minds play strange tricks. Around noon, I seem to hear Manny's voice calling behind us. We have one and a half liters of water. No food. 11 a.m., December 20th. A half hour ago, we sighted a flock of birds, but carl says it means nothing that they can fly for a thousand miles without water. I know the oasis this year. I keep hearing Manny's voice. 7, 10 p.m., December 21st. An hour ago, we stumbled into the avid muck oasis. There are birds by the thousands for the killing and eating, ripe dates, firewood, and water. And rills and ponds of water, water. I must have eaten a dozen of them. What kind of birds are they, carl? I do not know partridge, desert quail of some kind. What difference does it make? I suppose I only wondered. It's quite moonlight. And water, all the water anyone could want. Enough even for Manny and Gepo. You keep hearing Manny's voice, don't you, Hans? Of course not. That makes you think that... Because I keep hearing it and I have less reason than you. Carl, you have to realize that a leader is forced to do things against his nature, things he doesn't want to do. I'm going to be... Hi, Hans. I thought it was we. Well, I mean we, but anyway, that is a thing that has to determine a remove, not our personal feelings. Maybe so, Hans. Incidentally, it is not we. I am not going on with you. What do you mean? Just that. I am staying here at the Oasis, Hans. Bops, you can't. What will you do here? Eat and drink and sleep and think. But there is an empire waiting for us. You are completely insane. No, Hans. You are. I. As mad as any man could be. Don't say that, Carl. There is no empire waiting for you. There is! No, Hans, because you're insane. Don't say that! But fools, we were to follow a power-drunken madman off into the desert. Power and the love of power, the old, old destroyers, in the trail of violence and murder they leave behind. But I had to do it, Carl. I had to sacrifice a poor one. The old story, the end justifies the means. Only it never does, Hans. The end is created and shaped by the means. You've sworn violence and death, and you'll reap violence and death. Oh, no. There's an empire waiting. It's mine, Carl. You are as crazy as a noble- Don't say that! Hearing voices babbling about an empire- Carl, don't say that! You're insane, Hans. How pl- I told you not to say it, Carl. I warned you. It was your own fault. The same way it was Gepo's fault, Hans. I didn't kill you. I missed. I am glad I missed you, Carl. He's dead. You are insane, Hans. You're hearing things. No! It's all in your head like Manny's voice. No, you're wrong. I don't hear Manny's voice. Maybe I ought to talk louder, Hans. Manny? No, no, it can't be. How about me, Hans? Don't forget me. Gepo! It's a trick. You're all dead. Of course, Hans. We are dead and you are insane. No, don't say that. It's quite a joke, really. It's the diary. Yeah, I wrote you into it, and that's what makes you stay alive. I tell you out, you'll die and go away. Hans, don't you understand? Tell out the pages, and then you'll stop it and go away. It's all in your head, Hans. Why don't you laugh? There, there now. Now you'll stop. You're hiding there. I see you behind that tree. There, by the rocks. Over there. You can't stop me. I tell you there's an empire waiting, and it's mine. I'm going to be a king. You can't stop me. None of you can stop me. I'm going to be a king. You hear me? A king! This thing has come out of the desert, Colonel Bouge, but never one so strange as this. Huh? Here, let me have the glasses. It's a man, I think. One can hardly be sure. Yes, it is a man, dressed in rags, burned black by the sun, stumbling and staggering. Now, what could bring such a one to the Niger? And from where, sir? There's nothing behind him but 1,500 miles of desert. We will ride out and meet this remarkable traveler. Yes, sir. Africa. After 30 years of it, it is still as much a mystery as ever. You know, we shall see. His skin blistered to shreds, and yet he lives. Life flings to shreds in Africa. Bonjour, monsieur. His eyes. He appears not to see us. Are you ill, my friend? Where do you come from? You are wrong, Carl. You can see now that you are wrong. And me in sleep. What did he say? It hardly matters. It was not addressed to us. You are all three of your love. But now you see, they bow to my will, serve my slightest wish. Who are you, monsieur? What is your name? Can you hear me? Thousands of miles, Carl. What do we do with him, sir? And I am the king as I told you I would be. A king with a million slaves. What are you saying? How, Carl? Take him to the fort, protective confinement. Make the usual report. You laughed. All of you laughed. You called me insane. But how shall I refer to him in the report? I showed you all of you. Who is he? I won. I am a king. You heard him. He's a king. The king of the empire of the nigh guy. If you take the king away. But those who struck southward into the terrible vastness of the Sahara soon found the blazing days and freezing nights and the dry and lonely cruelty of the desert far more formidable than any mortal foe. Few of them were ever heard of. Again. Under the direction of Norman MacDonald, Escape has brought you Diary of a Mad Man by Les Crutchfield starring Ben Wright. Featured in the cast were Harry Bartel, Lawrence Dubkin, Paul Richards, Edgar Berrier and Barney Phillips. Editorial supervision is by John Meston and the special music for Escape is composed and conducted by Leith Stevens. Next week. You are trapped in a snowbound cabin in northern Canada. The temperature is slowly dropping all across the table from you. His eye is staring at you as your only companion. A mad man waiting for his chance to kill you. So listen next week when Escape brings you Anthony Ellis' terrifying story, a study in wax. It's 30 minutes of fun, laughter and entertainment when the Bob Hawke show is heard tomorrow night. Bob Hawke, the quiz master who's never at a loss for words, who puts words together so that they lead the contestants right up to the lemak questions. You'll laugh and learn for the Bob Hawke show is fun for everyone. Here at tomorrow night on most of the same CBS radio stations, this is Roy Rowan speaking. America now listens to 105 million radio sets and listens most to the CBS Radio Network.