The Enigma
for the Short Story Speed writing Challenge.
from photo number 3 and one quote.
and a sequel to "The Well."
story cover image upload courtesy of Katbybee
If you asked any of the men imprisoned in Luft Stalag 13, one prisoner, above all others, defied description. At times, often appearing innocent and naive, this particular prisoner espoused extraordinary bravery. A kind man-he had a hard time speaking ill of even his captors-this man used lethal knowledge with an elan that often worried his closest partners in crime. A man whose acting skills combined with flawless German would fool even the most discerning enemy.
Andrew J. Carter was that man.
It was during one of the few times an injury or illness put one of Hogan's men in the infirmary-Carter unfortunately developed bacterial pneumonia after retrieving something from a well-that his barrackmates, as well as a few other prisoners who wandered in, began seriously discussing their ordinance expert's many talents.
LeBeau stopped stirring the soup he was making. "Poor Carter." He took a sip. "Not only sick, but now he missed our talent show."
Kinch, who just returned from the tunnels, approached Hogan, who looked up. "Well?" Hogan asked hopefully.
"They're dropping penicillin tonight at 0100." Kinch stated. "One dose. It had to go up to the highest channels. Fortunately, we have a friend close to the prime minister." Kinch grabbed a chair and straddled it. "Too bad Carter had to miss the show. He has a great voice."
"With that and his improv skills, he could headline somewhere. And I should know," Newkirk said. "Being a good judge of talent meself." The Englishman deftly shuffled a deck of cards and dealt out the next hand. He was playing against another Englishman, Sergeant John Maddock, the Man of Confidence before Hogan's arrival, and the camp chaplain, John Waverly.
"Maybe you two could work the Palladium together," Olsen replied as he gave Newkirk a friendly slap on the back. He glanced down at Newkirk's hand, and let out a small grin.
"Poor kid." Hogan shook his head. He was having a hard time shaking his guilt, as it was he who ordered Carter down the well. He stood up and zipped up his jacket. "Olsen, you and LeBeau go pick up the drop. I'm going over to the infirmary."
"Will do, sir." Olsen hopped up on his bunk, grimacing as he tried to find a comfortable position on the thin mattress. He turned on his side, and propped his head on one hand as he watched the proceedings in the common room.
Foster, another visitor from across the compound, and one of the other fluent German speakers in camp, reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin paperback. "I finished your book, John." He placed it on the table. "Thanks."
"No problem." Maddock picked a card up from the deck. "You're next in line, Chaplain."
"Thanks." Waverly took his turn.
"It's awfully quiet in here." LeBeau covered the soup and took the chair vacated by Hogan.
"That it is." Kinch sighed, as he leaned up against his bunk.
"Gin." Newkirk placed his cards on the table and leaned back in the chair.
"I'm done." Maddock yawned. "You know, there is something that I don't get."
"What's that, John?" asked Kinch.
"Actually, not something. Someone," Maddock replied. "Carter."
The barracks quieted. "How do you mean?" asked the chaplain.
"Well, you all know him better than I do. After all, he lives here, and he is a main operative. But, sometimes he seems to be the least likely man for the job."
The men mulled that over for a few moments. None of Carter's closest mates were insulted, of course. Maddock wouldn't insult a fly. It was, however, an interesting question.
"Well, he can get a bit clumsy and forgetful," Newkirk offered. "He's lost things, missed things."
"And you ride him on that," Waverly said gently.
Newkirk nodded. "True. But, I've got 'is back, and he's got mine," he said in a slightly guilty tone.
"Well, he is the best man for the job," said Olsen. "No one else in camp has the skills he has with chemicals and explosives."
"Oh, I didn't mean that, and I wasn't thinking of his bouts of forgettfulness and clumsiness." Maddock frowned. "I just can't put my finger on it. What I'm trying to say, that is..." Maddock grabbed a pencil and began tapping it on the table; a nervous habit he acquired when he was in charge of the prisoners, it reminded everyone of Colonel Hogan and his drumming, pacing, and fidgeting.
"I would think that if you knew our Sergeant Carter before the war, and you could see into the future, you would be utterly astounded at what he has become. Is that close?" Waverly asked.
"Indeed," Maddock replied. "So chaps, can you enlighten us? What can you tell us about our brave and multi-talented munitions expert and actor extraordinaire?"
HhHhH
Hogan opened the door to the infirmary, which was empty save for the camp medic, Sergeant Joe Wilson, and his one patient. Wilson was seated at his desk opposite the door, and he stood up as the colonel walked in.
"I've got good news, Wilson. We're getting one dose dropped tonight. How is he?" Hogan asked.
"Thank goodness he's young and relatively healthy, and not as malnourished as the poor men in the other camps." Wilson was furious at the colonel for ordering Carter into the well. He felt it was unnecessary, but what was done was done. "He's awake."
Hogan approached Carter's bed at the other end of the room. "Hey, Carter. How are you feeling?"
"Hanging in there, Colonel." Carter coughed several times and then offered Hogan a weak smile. "Next time, I'll keep the blanket wrapped around myself."
"LeBeau is making some soup for you. He talked Schultz into liberating a chicken from the officer's mess." Hogan grabbed the empty chair that was next to another cot and pulled it over. He sat down.
"Gee, that's swell." Carter shut his eyes and tried to take a breath. That hurt, and he coughed again. "I just can't believe I missed that talent show. I heard there were lots of casualties."
"It got the job done." Hogan smiled. "You can be in the next one." He sighed. "Listen, I'm really sorry this happened, and..."
Carter interrupted Hogan. "Don't apologize, sir. We needed the codebook, and I was the best man for the job. Besides, we risk our lives everyday. It's no different than going out on a mission, or flying in a tin can taking flack and being shot at by fighters."
HhHhH
"Why would he then volunteer for the air corps?" Maddock asked. "Doesn't seem the type. He's book smart; he may have ended up in the rear."
"Well, there is never a guarantee. I'm sure he would have eventually been in ordinance on the ground. As to who flies? There is no type, really," Kinch said as he poured some coffee into a mug. He moved over to the table and perched himself on the edge. "Some love the idea of flying, the open sky."
"Me? I thought going back to a base and sleeping in a clean bed sounded better than slogging through mud and jumping into foxholes," added Saunders with a grin.
The chaplain chimed in. "I think some men don't want to see the direct damage. It's hard to kill someone you can see. Perhaps it's their way of dealing with the pain."
The room quieted as the men understood the chaplain's point. Those not exposed to bomb damage in England were shocked at their first glimpse of the destruction when they were captured and taken through parts of Germany.
"Well, I know some blokes who signed on to do to the Krauts what they did to us," Newkirk stated.
"I can certainly see Carter not wanting to come face to face with a person he needs to kill; except for one thing..." Kinch took a sip of his coffee. "He does it here all the time."
"True, but they're bad people," LeBeau countered.
"Not necessarily. All the bridges, and the trains. Some of those were conscripts. Probably not all of them are crazy Nazis." Kinch looked over to the bunks. "You okay, Olsen?" The Outside Man had turned over onto his back and had one arm over his eyes.
"Tough conversation," replied the sergeant. "I've got relatives here. Maybe that's why I volunteered to fly, so I wouldn't see the men I'm shooting at. War stinks. No matter what, innocent people die."
HhHhH
"You're a good man, Carter. And having that codebook will save lives of our air crews, and maybe save innocent civilians from German bombs," Hogan added. As he spied Wilson heading over, the colonel stood up. "I'll let you get some rest. LeBeau will be over with some soup."
"Thank you, sir," Carter croaked as he attempted to get into a comfortable position.
"Want a cup of coffee, Colonel?" Wilson asked Hogan.
"Sure, Joe." Hogan followed the medic over to the other side of the hut. He grabbed a chair and sat down while Wilson poured hot liquid into a mug. "I always thought catching cold like that was an old wives tale."
"My guess is he was already coming down with something. There's that bug going around on the other side of camp, and a few of the guards have colds. You're all pretty healthy, but not in the shape you'd be in if we weren't here, and stress throws off our immune systems."
Hogan pondered that as he sipped his drink. "Hmm. I told Carter he was in great shape when we planned this out."
"Well, he always comes through for you, doesn't he?"
"They all do, eventually." Hogan leaned back in his chair. "I couldn't have asked for a better group of men. He began tap his fingers on the table. "But, Carter, well. He's different."
That he is." Wilson leaned in. "He seems so innocent and naive. It's easy to forget he was an officer who escaped from Stalag 5, and stayed."
HhHhH
Kinch smiled. "He was like a lost puppy when he came back here and asked to join the team."
LeBeau laughed. "Remember the look on Colonel Hogan's face when Carter started talking about his favorite subject?"
"So, what happened?" asked the chaplain.
Kinch began laughing. "Well, it was like this...".
After leaving camp in the veterinarian's dog truck, Carter was then dropped at a safe house several miles outside of Hamelburg. While hidden in a secret room underneath the basement, Carter had nothing to do but think. It didn't take long for him to decide he was having nothing to do with escaping back to England. Not wanting to worry the kind couple who owned the house, Carter set off in the direction of the next point in the Underground railroad, but doubled back towards camp about halfway there. Having escaped from Stalag 5, he had no fear about being out in the German countryside. He had papers, the right clothes and flawless German to fall back on. Unfortunately, the one flaw in the plan was that the resistance members at the next point were waiting for him, and he didn't think to let them know he changed his mind.
The group back at Stalag 13 were, to say the least, worried. Although, Hogan played down his fear. In this business, he said, anything could happen. The young man could have run into a patrol or convoy and was hiding. He told the person on the radio to relay this to the next pick-up point and to let him know if Carter showed up.
He showed up all right...nearly getting himself killed while arriving back at camp and sneaking into the tree stump tunnel entrance.
"What were you thinking?" Hogan demanded once everyone calmed down.
"I want to join the team, sir," Carter replied, his enthusiasm showing on his face.
"You want to be a prisoner?" Hogan was confused. "We've never had an escapee ask to stay."
"I can help! You may not know this, because I kept it a secret, you see...that's what you do, right?" He turned to the other men. "Only say what's necessary in case someone gets interrogated. Which must be really scary..." As Carter ran on, the men began to step back.
"Lieutenant, please get to the point," Hogan ordered.
"Oh. Sorry, sir. I tend to talk a lot. Especially when I'm excited about something."
"That's an understatement," Newkrik mumbled to LeBeau.
"Colonel Hogan, i'm fluent in German, plus I am an explosives expert," Carter said in perfect German.
The room became silent.
Hogan walked up to Carter and put his arm around his shoulder. "Tell me more, Carter."
Hours later...
"Well, now you take your average basic smoke bomb," Carter explained to anyone willing to listen. "It's just a matter of physics, chemistry and getting the right equipment." He looked around the supplies in the tunnel. "Gee, I can probably whip up some samples right here and now. Plus some handmade grenades and maybe some dynamite."
"No. No. That's fine." Hogan quickly stepped in. his face showing a mix of fear, surprise and curiosity as he wondered what they had unleashed. He had already decided to let Carter stay, as soon as his background check from London came through. And he had no concern about that.
"Oh, sure, sir. Another time, maybe." The men noticed Carter looked a bit crestfallen. He walked away from the table and promptly tripped. The men in the area, already wary of Carter's clumsiness, combined with his side job, flung themselves to the floor.
The entire barracks laughed at Kinch's retelling.
"Well, he said. "So he stayed, got a fake demotion, and he hasn't managed to kill himself or any of us, yet."
"That's true," Newkirk said soberly. "I think I'll go over to the infirmary and see how he's making out."
By the time Newkirk arrived at the building, he was being followed by the entire barracks, plus the 3 visitors.
"One at a time"" Waverly said as he turned. "They won't let us all in at once."
Newkirk stepped aside for the chaplain. After all, despite Newkirk's fear for his friend, the chaplain had a job to do. But Waverly demurred.
"Go ahead, Newkirk."
As Newkirk opened the door. Hogan and Wilson rose from the seats. Hogan, who seemed to have a sixth sense, walked towards Newkirk. "Well, well, well." he said as he gazed at the line of men waiting outside.
"Sorry, guv'nor. We were all talking about Carter. Maddock and Chaplain Waverly didn't know his history, and then, well...we were all worried.
"Wilson says he is doing better, and the penicillin will help."
"Quite a tale, Colonel." Waverly stated. He and Maddock joined Hogan and Wilson at the table while Carter's bunk mates, only a few at a time, and only for several minutes each, wished him well. Only LeBeau stayed longer, as he had the soup, and he was helping Carter eat.
"So, tell me gentlemen. Does knowing a bit more of Carter's background explain what makes him tick?" They all chuckled. "I didn't mean it to come out that way," Hogan said with a smile.
Waverly shook his head. "No. Not at all." The other men agreed.
"Well, in that case," Hogan said as he stood up to leave. "He will always remain an enigma."
"But he's our enigma, Colonel." Newkirk was leaving and he heard the last part of the conversation.
"That he is, Newkirk. That he is."
The end.
The Talent Show was part of a diversion in the episode, "Praise the Führer and Pass the Ammunition." Larry Hovis did not appear in the episode.
The friend close to the Prime Minister would be Group Captain Roberts.
Sergeant Maddock is my OC. He appeared in my story, "What's in a Name." Chaplain John Waverly (another OC) was first introduced in my story, "He Who Saves a Single Life, Saves the Entire World." He also appeared in a chapter of "With a Song in your Heart," in "Mea Culpa," and in , "Hopes and Dreams."
Carter first appeared in the pilot episode, "The Informer." He was a lieutenant in the episode; an escapee from Stalag 5. He took off in Schnitzer's truck at the end.