Til the cows come home.

Some days it seems like LeBeau and Newkirk argue forever. How long is that? Schultz finds out.

The morning roll call had gone smoothly and quietly. Everyone was tired and still sleepy and it was exceptionally cold and that meant no one wanted to argue. No one wanted to taunt Klink and have to listen to a long scolding speech.

The peace and quiet had not lasted more than two minutes after everyone got back inside the barracks.

"LeBeau! You left me last teabag in the water! You knew that was me last one!" Newkirk's outrage was evident. He was carefully trying to pour liquid the color of tar out of a large metal cup.

LeBeau wasn't taking the blame gracefully. "Non, I did nothing. I gave you the hot water, I was not the one who was supposed to take your teabag out of the water." He waved one hand in the air. "It is your own fault."

"My fault… my bloody foot." Newkirk grimaced at the overbrewed tea. He tried to pat the soggy teabag with a handkerchief to dry it.

While everyone else in the barracks breathed a little sigh of relief at the argument dying out so quickly, LeBeau snorted loudly. "Just add more water. It will be just as good then." Half of the occupants of the barracks groaned out loud, knowing what was coming.

"Just dilute the boiled mash of tea… yes, that will make it perfectly fine," spat Newkirk. "Trust a Frenchman to come up with such an asinine idea! You lot make tea about as well as you fight Germans!"

There had been a small group of people around the stove, and therefor LeBeau. The small group seemed to perform a magic trick in disappearing instantly. It left a visibly fuming Frenchman holding a steaming metal coffeepot in one hand.

It was Kinch, arguably one of the most sensible POWs in the entire camp, who bravely reached out to take that coffeepot away. It wasn't that Kinch feared Newkirk being injured when LeBeau flung the contents onto him in a fit of anger. It was more that Kinch really needed his coffee in the morning.

"What did you say about the French?!" LeBeau was practically screeching. He stormed up to shout at Newkirk, who shouted right back at him.

"What? Are you deaf as well as short?!"

It simply got loud after that.

Breakfast came and went, followed by an exercise period, followed by chores during which Carter joined Newkirk and LeBeau in picking up trash. The entire time the two continued to snipe and insult each other and their respective countries.

Schultz wandered along with the trio, supposedly to guard them, but mostly because guarding prisoners was only marginally less boring than being a prisoner. After listening to the vicious fighting between the two Europeans, the German elected to stand near Carter instead. Generally speaking, Carter was always cheerful and said a great many interesting things. The things did not always make any sense, but sometimes that made them even more interesting.

Right now, Carter was chattering about his home and family. "And then my aunt, she was kind of old but you know, she could still do everything on the farm and she would wake everyone up to do chores as soon as the sun came up. We had trouble just keeping up with her because she just never stopped and even when she was sitting at night, she would be mending clothing. Kind of like how Newkirk is always sewing on things, when he's not playing cards. My aunt played cards too, but she played bridge with one of the neighbor couples but they just played for points not for money or anything." He paused as a particularly loud curse came from the other two POWs. He waited until they'd stomped a few steps away from each other before he went back to stabbing bits of trash up from the ground. "So anyway, I never had a car but I drove the tractors on the farm sometimes. I did kind of drive it into the pond… a few times. But never on purpose, just it kind of happened."

Schultz finally interrupted the stream of talk. "Why are they fighting?" He flicked his fingers towards the two now-muttering pair.

"Why?" Carter thought that over a few seconds. "I think it started over tea but it could have actually started before that. I don't know." He spotted another bit of trash and brightened as he stepped over there to quickly stab it up and place it all into his bag. "Sometimes I don't know if they have a reason to fight."

"Well at least they have stopped fighting now." Almost as if they heard Schultz's words, the pair suddenly exchanged a flurry of insults, coming nearly nose to nose. "Donnerwetter..." Schultz pushed between them. "Stop! You, LeBeau go over there and clean and you, Newkirk, go over there and hush." He had to give LeBeau a few pushes before the little Frenchman stomped away to begin stabbing up trash. "You two should not fight. You should be friends." He threw his hands up in despair as they simply glared and muttered. Returning to Carter's side, he shrugged. "Maybe they will stop fighting now and be friends."

"Oh I don't think so. They'll keep fighting til the cows come home," said Carter cheerfully.

"Cows? What cows?" Schultz looked puzzled and then worried. "Maybe I do not want to know about any cows."

Shaking his head, Carter reassured the big guard. "Not real cows, Schultz. It just means it will take a long time, like when the cows don't come back to the barn until almost nighttime to be milked. You see, cows get milked in the morning and then they go eat grass all day and come back in the evening. That's when you milk them again. But in summer, it's really late before the cows decide to come back." Carter shrugged. "I was just saying that LeBeau and Newkirk will probably keep arguing."

Schultz suddenly nodded with understanding. "Ja, ja. Because they are both stubborn like cows also, ja!"

Carter blinked. "Well, I guess so." He wandered along the side of the compound, trying to make sure he didn't miss any trash. His attention wavered until sudden loud shouting erupted several feet away.

"Tu me rends dingu!" screamed LeBeau.

"Dingo yourself! I've 'ad a bloody 'eadfull of your lip!" Newkirk's posture was completely stiff showing his anger was close to boiling over.

"Oh!? You're going to get more than just 'lip'!" LeBeau shoved himself forward, chest to chest with the taller Brit. The height difference made Newkirk tilt his head at an awkward angle and he backed up, angered more at having to step away. "Are you afraid, are you running away?! Pah! All English are cowards at heart!"

Newkirk's face went dark and he whirled around to snatch up one of the discarded wooden soapboxes beside the fence. "Cowards!? Let me make this fair!" He threw the box down in front of LeBeau. "Step up on that so I can argue with you like a real man, you petit midget!"

Carter cringed as LeBeau shrieked with righteous anger and flew at Newkirk. Apparently the Englishman had forgotten, as always, that LeBeau was as quick as he was small. One fist landed a perfectly thrown punch in the center of Newkirk's face. The yelp of pain was cut off as LeBeau barreled into him and knocked him flying into the dirt.

"You bloody French wanker!" Newkirk gathered himself up and came off the ground snarling with anger, his nose a bleeding mess. "I'll give you what-for!"

There was a soft thud as LeBeau fell over, his face pale as his body went limp. Newkirk put a hand to his bleeding nose and took it away, wincing at the pouring blood. "Oh yeah! Just go ahead and faint! I never get to bloody well 'it you back, you tosser! Just because of a little blood!" he yelled at the passed out Frenchman. He glared over at Carter and flung his hands up in the air. "Well, don't just stand there! Go get Wilson!"

Schultz looked at Carter and spoke quietly. "Maybe now the cows are home?"

Carter couldn't help but smile. "I think you're probably right."

End

That's probably the only way they stop arguing. Well, they also stop arguing to argue with any outside that tries to stop them from arguing. They just like to argue, what can I say?