Shout out to my awesome beta reader for helping me edit and make this story better than before! Thank you, Gaerwn! You are the total bomb! :)
It was a nice night in July. It was not too humid out and not too brutally cold, either. No, the temperature was just right. In Stalag 13, most of the prisoners were asleep...except for five in particular. Colonel Robert E. Hogan was up with his men/friends: Sergeant James Kinchloe (Kinch), Sergeant Andrew Carter, Corporal Peter Newkirk, and Corporal Louis LeBeau. The five of them were all outside in the compound near barracks two sitting in chairs and surrounding a nice, warm, roaring campfire. Hogan had convinced Klink to let them have a one night campout as long as they did not bother him while sleeping in his quarters for the night. They had no assignments to worry about from London or the Underground, so the Senior POW Officer decided the five of them deserved to do something fun and relaxing for once. There was a tent set up in the middle alley between barracks two and a couple of other barracks nearby, where they would sleep for the night in sleeping bags and pillows Klink had provided. They had the same quality as their bunks in the barracks, but it was better than nothing at all.
Hogan was smiling at his men, as Carter and LeBeau were roasting marshmallows over the fire, Kinch watching, and Newkirk smoking a cigarette. They were at ease and relaxing, as they sat there under the clear night sky looking at the stars and listening to the crickets chirping nearby in the camp and outside in the woods. Newkirk looked over at Carter and smirked.
"Yah gonna burn the thing, if yah keep that up, Andrew," Newkirk teased.
"Oh, I like 'em that way. Black and burnt is the best." Carter said with a childish smile.
"Oui, mon ami." LeBeau said, agreeing.
Hogan chuckled and drank his cup of his coffee.
"Oh, I know what we should do!" LeBeau cried, thinking of a brilliant idea.
"Sing '99 Bottles'." Kinch said, cracking a smile.
"No," LeBeau answered.
"Play 'Ghost In the Graveyard'!" Newkirk cheered.
"What's that?" LeBeau asked.
"You've never heard of it, Louis? Oh, let old Newkirk here teach yah all about it." Newkirk said, with a smile.
LeBeau shook his head smiling. "I meant tell ghost stories." He said.
"Oh, do I gotta good one to tell you guys!" Kinch said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.
"It won't be as good as my banshee haunted house story." Newkirk reassured, friendly.
"You've told me that story enough times, it doesn't even scare me, anymore." Kinch remarked.
"Oh really; you think yah got a story that can top mine!"
"Let's just say it involves a campsite, a ghost, and no flashlights in the middle of the forest."
"I still say mine will scare Louis, Andrew, and Colonel here more than yours."
"Bah; I bet it can't beat my night shift story when working in a bakery in Paris." LeBeau said, sure of himself.
"You used to work in a bakery, Louis?" Newkirk questioned. He did not know this of his friend.
"Oh, oui, Pierre!" The little Frenchman leaned over towards Newkirk. "I made some of the most magnificent pastries and desserts you would've ever tasted!"
"Looks like I'm going to Paris once the war's over." Newkirk commented, smiling.
"Hey, let me come with you. A little reunion for us." Kinch added.
"Good idea, mate!"
Carter smiled and turned to look at Hogan, who was sitting on his left.
"Colonel, could you tell your story about that time you got back at one of your buddies in the 504th bomber crew for the prank he pulled on you?" Carter asked, excited.
Hogan looked at him and smiled.
"Carter, that's not a ghost story." Hogan said in a friendly tone.
"I know, but it's really good!" The young sergeant answered, smiling.
Hogan smirked and shook his head. Sometimes he found Carter's ideas and responses annoying and unhelpful. Other times, which were more often than the annoying times, he found them funny and endearing. His explosion expert was a bit naive at points, but his heart was always where it should be.
"Oh, I love that story!" Kinch added in.
"Come on, Gov'nor; tell us." Newkirk prodded with a wink.
Hogan put up a hand, smiled, and shook his head softly chuckling to himself.
"No, you guys have heard that story a hundred times. Someone else can tell a story, tonight." Hogan said with a smile.
There was a chorus of 'aw man' and 'come on' that went around between the four men of Hogan. They all stopped after about thirty seconds, when Newkirk spoke up.
"Come on, Gov'nor; I love that one!" Newkirk said.
"It never gets old, sir." Kinch added.
"Please, Colonel; I'll shut up for the rest of the night. You won't have to worry a bit about me keeping everyone up all night with my talking!" Carter begged.
Hogan chuckled, again. He was both touched and amazed that these guys loved his story so much. He thought after four times of telling it, they would have grown old of it by now. Out of surprise, still whenever the five of them were not busy, someone a lot of the time asked him to share the funny memory with them.
"Alright, Carter; I'll tell it." Hogan answered, smiling friendly.
"Oooooo, grab some marshmallows, Kinch; this is gonna be a good one!" Newkirk said, clapping and rubbing his hands together.
Hogan smirked and began recalling his past as best as he could.
"It all started at our base in the middle of Germany. Everyone else was walking around preparing for our next airstrike, while I was talking with my best friend, Major Richard Schuerman, Rick, as everyone called him." Hogan began.
All four men were listening intently and aroused with glee and anticipation, as they listened to their commanding officer begin one heck of a memory.