Chapter 1:
It was a nice morning in May at Stalag 13. The sun was up in the sky and there was barely a cloud around. While the rest of the prisoners were outside playing sports or socializing with one another, four men remained inside barracks two. Newkirk, Carter, Kinch, and LeBeau were in the main area hanging out and waiting for their commanding officer and friend, Colonel Robert Hogan, to come back from a meeting with Kommandant Wilhelm Klink.
LeBeau was cooking something, and Newkirk, Carter, and Kinch were playing a game of gin talking with one another. Things had been very quiet for the five recently, and it was starting to get boring around camp. Most of the missions they had been assigned recently were just meeting with others from the underground and gathering information from them to send to London.
Carter was thinking carefully on what his next move would be. He spent about six minutes just looking at his hand then at the cards in the middle of the table. He eventually went back to his hand and repeated the same process about four times. By that moment, Newkirk was starting to grow irritated.
"Andrew, would ya bloody do something already? By the time you make a move, the ruddy war'll be over!" Newkirk snapped.
"Gee! Sorry...trying to win here," Carter said, somewhat offended. He put a random card down on the table to satisfy Newkirk.
Kinch chuckled while smiling at the younger sergeant.
"Oh, Carter. What would we do without you?" Kinch asked.
"What do you mean? Are you guys getting rid of me?!" Carter asked, frightened.
Newkirk shook his head and rolled his eyes.
"Blimey, Andrew. You take things far too seriously sometimes," the English corporal said.
"I didn't mean it literally, Carter. No one's gonna get rid of you," Kinch said.
"Oui, mon ami," LeBeau said, walking over to them. "I mean, you can sometimes be a bit of a nuisance, but we could never part with you."
"Besides," Kinch continued. "Who would we have to pick on if you weren't around?"
All of them but Carter laughed.
"Oh, real funny, guys. Real funny," Carter said. He kept his head down and studied his cards, though he could practically feel the others' eyes burning him. The hot feeling spread to his cheeks, and he raised his cards higher, hoping no one would notice and haggle him for blushing or something, too. They already had enough ammunition to use. How he wished Hogan would hurry up and get back.
"And that is why," Klink continued as he paced his office. "From now on, if one of the prisoners are out of line anymore at evening roll call, they will serve thirty days in the cooler, followed by one month of banned recreational periods, and four days being my personal servant. Do you understand, Colonel Hogan?" The Luftwaffe colonel looked at Hogan, who was sitting in the chair in front of Klink's desk, to make sure he was paying attention.
"Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, Kommandant? Four days of being a servant and a month of banned recreational periods seems like an awful lot." Hogan protested.
"How will I get the men to listen to me if I'm soft with them, Hogan? Threaten them with hugs and kisses?" Klink blathered.
"Well, that, would certainly be entertaining," Hogan said, holding back a chuckle.
Klink snapped his head back and looked at him in offended rage.
"This is serious, Hogan! I will not let anymore of your men start a ruckus during evening roll call. If it shall continue, I will blame you personally and then you will be serving the punishment. Do I make myself clear, Hogan?" Klink hissed.
"Yes, Kommandant," Hogan said back, smug while glaring at him.
"Good, now get out of my office! I have several papers to go through that must be sent to Berlin at once."
"Is your favorite general coming for a visit, Kommandant?"
"Hogan!" Klink shouted shaking his fist. "You leave General Burkhalter out of this!"
"Yes, sir, Kommandant. May I go now?"
"Please! And take your witty comments with you!"
Hogan rose from his chair and walked towards Klink's door. He turned the knob and was about to leave, when he decided to turn back to look at Klink.
"Oh, Kommandant," Hogan said.
"What, Hogan?" Klink moaned.
"When you see General Burkhalter, tell him to tell Old Bubblehead I say 'hi'." Hogan answered, with a grin.
"OUT!" Klink shouted.
Hogan saluted sloppily and headed back for the barracks. Once inside, Carter turned to him immediately and looked sad.
"Carter, what's wrong?" Hogan asked, concerned.
"Colonel...I'm more than just someone to make fun of, right?" The young sergeant asked meekly.
"Of course you are, Carter. You know we pick on you just to be silly, right?" Hogan sat down besides Carter and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"I know...it's just...I don't know...sometimes I wish I were more like Newkirk and Kinch."
"Another me?!" Newkirk cried. "Oh, Andrew. If there were two of me, this whole camp would bloody fall apart."
"I have my flaws, too, Carter. I mean who else do you know that's an organizing monster?" Kinch asked.
"And me, André," LeBeau said. "Sometimes I can get a bit carried away with emotions."
"Yeah, and ya snore horribly, too," Newkirk remarked.
"Hey!" LeBeau cried.
All five of them started laughing at that. Once Hogan stopped laughing, he turned to look at Carter again.
"Even I have things to be laughed at, too, Carter," Hogan said, smiling.
"Not you, Colonel. You're the best guy I know," Carter said, proud.
"Oui, Colonel. There isn't one single flaw about you!" LeBeau spoke, gratified.
"Goes for me as well, Gov'nor." Newkirk added.
"Best commanding officer I've ever seen," Kinch said.
"And best friend," Carter said.
Hogan chuckled and blushed. All the compliments were making him slightly embarrassed.
"Well thanks, guys. Means a lot to me," he said.
"No problem, Colonel," Carter said.
"Colonel, are you hungry? I made your favorite for lunch." LeBeau admired the smell coming from his cooking pot.
"Please tell me it's none of that fish stew again, Louis." Newkirk groaned.
The little Frenchman glared at Newkirk.
"Non, it's mac and cheese, Pierre. Unless you don't like that either."
"Give me a big bowl, LeBeau. I'm starved," Hogan said, patting his belly.
"Mac and cheese!" Newkirk exclaimed. "What the bloody hell happened to your 'gourmet meals'?"
"You don't like them, so I decided on making something more common." LeBeau hissed.
"Alright, enough, both of you. I swear to God you two act like a married couple sometimes," Kinch said, chuckling.
"Marry him?! I'd rather marry Klink before that happened!" LeBeau protested.
"Blimey, I'm not that bad!"
All five of them started laughing, when the door to barracks two opened, and Baker walked inside.
"Gestapo car just pulled in, Colonel. Major Hochstetter's here with two of his men and what appears to be an American officer," Baker reported.
"An American officer," Hogan said, surprised.
"What rank?" Newkirk asked.
"I couldn't tell from where I was standing. I saw him for a brief moment only, but it's without a doubt an American officer from the US Army Air Force." Baker answered.
Hogan turned to look at his men and raised an eyebrow.
"Gentlemen, care for some coffee?" Hogan asked.
"I could go for a cup," Newkirk said, rising to his feet.
"Count me in, Colonel," Kinch said.
Carter got to his feet and followed Kinch and Newkirk to Hogan's quarters. Hogan rose and was followed by LeBeau, when the American colonel stopped the little Frenchman.
"Get me an actual cup of coffee, would you, LeBeau?" Hogan asked.
"Right away, Colonel," LeBeau said, eager and hurried to grab his commanding officer what he requested.
Smiling, Hogan entered his quarters just as Kinch was turning on the coffee pot. Carter was sitting in Hogan's chair, Kinch stood by the window, and Newkirk stood beside Hogan, as he walked up behind Carter and put a hand gently on the young sergeant's shoulder.
"Anything so far, Kinch?" Hogan asked.
"Nothing, Colonel. I think Major Hochstetter just walked into Klink's office."
LeBeau walked in and stood to Hogan's left handing him his cup of coffee. Hogan gratefully took it and took a sip, when a familiar voice was heard. It sounded shaky and worried.
"Major Hochstetter, welcome to Stalag 13!" Klink greeted with faux cheeriness and fear.
"Shut up, Klink," Hochstetter ordered.
"Yes, sir. Shutting up and listening."
"Major Hochstetter, how can I assist both you and your men today? Who's that?" Klink asked, pointing to the American officer.
The man was as tall as Hogan, had light brown hair and bright blue eyes that burned into Klink's soul. He was slim and much thinner than Hogan was. To Klink, Hogan looked friendly and someone that would be willing to help anyone at an instance, as his personality was known well to the kommandant. This man, however, looked like he would strangle anyone at any given moment just for looking at him for too long. He was handcuffed, but even that did not ease Klink. He was silent and did not move once. He stared coldly at Klink, then Hochstetter, then Klink again. It made the old German colonel swallow a knot down his throat.
"Major Hochstetter, who is he?" Klink trembled.
"I don't know, Klink. He would not answer any of our questions on the way here. Berlin thought taking him to the toughest POW camp in all of Germany would change his mind." Hochstetter snarled at the American.
The American's eyes flickered for a moment and looked harshly at the Gestapo major then returned his eyes back to Klink.
"Major, if you would sit our guest in the chair in front of my desk, please?" Klink spoke, with courtesy.
Hochstetter shoved the American forward who snapped a harsh glare back at the Gestapo officer. As a result, the American found a gun pointed at the back of his skull by one of Hochstetter's men. He looked similar to the American, but his eyes were dark brown, almost black even.
The American finally reached the chair and sat down, but not without first kicking Klink in the shin. The old Kommandant whelped and grabbed his right leg and rubbed it tenderly for a moment before lowering his gaze fearfully at the man. The American was looking at him with pure hatred. He hated Hochstetter, he hated Klink, he hated the two Gestapo men, he hated the entire camp!
Klink sat down on the front of his desk and fixed his eyes closely on the American. He did not like this man as much as he did not like him. Klink wanted to slap him for his arrogant and disrespectful behavior, but at the same time the man terrified him, too.
"Alright, Mister," Klink said crossing his arms. "Who are you?"
The American refused to answer. He just continued watching Klink, wishing for him to drop dead.
"Sir, I'm the Kommandant of this camp, and you will answer my questions at once," Klink ordered.
Nothing.
Hochstetter lowered his face to the American and snarled at him.
"You'll answer Kommandant Klink's questions, or you will answer to mine!" Hochstetter hissed.
"You don't scare me, Nazi swine!" The American snapped.
"Sir, you will not speak in such a way to Major Hochstetter or anyone of the Gestapo," Klink warned harshly.
"I got him, Klink," Hochstetter said annoyed. He looked back at the bratty American, who he just wanted to shoot in the head. "Now, who are you and if you refuse to answer, I will have my men get the answer out of you with...interesting methods of questioning."
Klink gulped without Hochstetter seeing him. Even though he could not stand the man, he really did not want to witness him be tortured in order for him to talk. He returned his gaze from Hochstetter to the young American.
"My name is Lieutenant Dick Walters. Serial number R9467705," he finally spoke.