two hours after midnight
But you do n't have to , as they say in Maine . And I admit that all I saw was from a curtained auto as we swayed and bumped over broken roads , with an occasional interlude when Jeremy and I got out to lend our shoulders and help the Arab driver heave the car out of a slough . My clearest memory is of that Arab -- silent , stolid , staring like an owl straight forward most of the time -- but a perfect marvel in emergencies , when he would suddenly spring to life , swear a living streak of brimstone blasphemy in high falsetto , and perform a driver 's miracle . By two hours after midnight we were running on four flat tires ; and I 've got the name of the maker of those wheels for future reference and use . One spring broke , but we went forward sailor-fashion , with a jury - rig of chain and rope , after getting more gas from some Christian monks , who swore they had n't any and wept when one of Feisul 's officers demonstrated that they had . You could n't see any monastery ; I do n't even know that there was one -- nothing but lean faces with tonsured tops that nodded in unison and lied fearfully . The gunfire began to be heavy about that time , although nothing like the thousand-throated bedlam of Flanders .