So I've always been absolutely delighted when Newkirk gets so annoyed with Carter saying something stupid that he tells him "Get in your bunk!" I'm not sure why, but it's just funny. He tells him "Go to your room!" once too, for the same meaning. So I decided to lay out how the first time might have happened and also at the same time tell a story of when Carter first arrived at the camp

Carter was sitting nervously at the community table in the barracks. He'd only been in Stalag 13 for a few days. He was trying to fit in and not make anyone mad at him and not get into any trouble and not get in the way of any guards and it really seemed as if he was failing at every one of those. No one trusted the 'new guy' which Carter understood. It had been the same way at the other stalag too.

A few of the other men living in the barracks came in, being rather boisterous. Carter shifted himself down to the end of the table quietly and they settled at the other end, chatting back and forth about a lot of different subjects. Most of it didn't make any sense to Carter, and he just stayed quiet down on his end. Two of them were speaking French and the other two were discussing some of the other prisoners. It took a few minutes for Carter to remember some names. The extremely small Frenchman was LeBeau and the other French speaker was a tall black American named Kinchloe. One of the others was another American, Olson and Carter couldn't remember the last man's name.

The door to the office at the end of the building opened and Colonel Hogan came out. The officer looked pretty distracted and breezed by them to exit the barracks. The instant he had appeared, every head turned to watch and the conversation stopped. But Colonel Hogan had simply given them a quick cocky smile and a little gesture of one hand to tell them they weren't needed.

Carter watched them all relax and go back to the discussions before the door had even closed behind the Colonel. He spoke up quietly. "It's too bad he's here."

He knew his words were wrong when every back stiffened and angry eyes turned on him. Olson was the first to speak, his voice tight with anger. "We're lucky he's here and don't you ever speak ill of the Colonel around any of us."

Carter scooted slightly away on the bench, stammering as he tried to explain. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, then how did you mean it?" The other American got to his feet angrily.

Now Carter got up and backed away. "I... I just meant he could be f-fighting the Nazis and not locked up here... that's all."

"Oui." The little Frenchman nodded. "It is too bad he had to be captured by the filthy Germans." With his words, the other three relaxed slightly and settled back to continue their conversations, turning slightly to exclude Carter rather deliberately.

He'd eventually gone outside to wander the exercise area. He spotted one of the other inhabitants of the barracks with a few other prisoners and went to see what they were doing. The British airman had a deck of battered cards and was trying to get someone to play cards with him. For some reason most of the other POWs refused and Carter shyly stepped forward.

"I'll play gin with you." he offered. There were a few scoffing noises but his barracks mate smiled and slung a friendly arm around his shoulders.

"Now see? Carter 'ere knows 'ow to be friendly." The beaming man gestured towards one of the benches against the building. "Let's go 'ave a quick game, right?"

Carter was perusing his hand of cards and discarded one only to have it plucked up by the Englishman. He couldn't remember his name and was too embarrassed to ask it again. They played a few more minutes until Carter picked up a card and smiled. "Gin." He spread the cards out on the bench and watched the other man frown at them.

"Now 'ow did you do that?" His companion seemed a little confused but quickly smiled and shrugged. "Right, well, 'ere I'll just add my points..." He did so quickly and found a scrap of paper to pencil the numbers down carefully. "Right then, so you're up on old Newkirk for now. But I'll catch up next 'and, right?" He gave another quick grin as he got up, carefully tucking the cards safely in one of his coat pockets.

"I could play another hand, if you want." Carter didn't want to go back to the barracks to the unfriendly stares and he was still nervous about the German guards in the compound. They were certain to be mean and would take any chance to hit a prisoner, or they were friendly and Carter got hit by other prisoners for being too friendly. That's how it had been at the other stalag and he had few doubts that it would be that way here too. "I really wouldn't mind."

"Nah, I got a few things to get done meself." Flashing a quick grin at Carter, the Brit wandered off.

Carter watched him go and wondered if he really had anything to do. It was a prisoner of war camp. What task could he need to do right away? In the other camp, most of the day had been spent trying to fight off boredom and not much else. Newkirk didn't look like he was leaving to do anything urgent. He was just sauntering across the compound casually.

Finally Carter sighed and got up to walk the opposite direction. Maybe if he walked around the compound, he would find something to do.

Later in the afternoon when he entered the barracks, he immediately sniffed the air. There was something that smelled like food and his mouth was watering just at the thought. He spoke up right away. "What's that smell?"

LeBeau, the Frenchman, looked up from where he stood at the little woodstove. "I am making us a stew from vegetables. It will be ready in an hour." He stirred a pot set on the top of the stove carefully and then put a lid on it. "Does it smell good?"

"Wonderful!" Carter came closer to look at the pot and then stepped backwards, putting his hands behind his back. He didn't want to look like he expected any food from the other prisoner. "How do you get the stuff to make it? I thought that cooking in the barracks was forbidden."

"Oui." LeBeau shrugged. "But as long as our barracks' guard Schultz gets a taste, he doesn't care if I make things. Newkirk got the vegetables from the German officer's messhall. He's very good at getting things I need and so we all get a little extra to eat." He settled the big spoon on the edge of the table with a bit of cloth and headed for the door. "I have to go but I'll be right back. Don't touch the pot."

"What if a guard comes in and finds it?" asked Carter with some worry. He didn't want to be blamed for breaking the rules. At least not unless he was the one breaking the rules.

LeBeau scoffed. "If Schultz comes in, just tell him he can't have any until later when it's done. He's okay."

"Okay." Carter watched him leave. After a moment, he sat down at the table and sighed. Nothing really seemed to make sense. The prisoners didn't seem to fear the guards. He supposed that bribing this 'Schultz' kept him agreeable to some of the rule breaking. If he ran into the guard he would be nice to him too. That seemed safe.

Only a few moments later the door opened and a German guard stalked in, looking around the room with a frown. Carter had jumped to his feet and stood over by his bunk. Prisoners usually had to stand when guards came in and usually they were supposed to form up by their bunks in the case of a barracks' inspection. Carter wasn't sure if this counted as an inspection but figured better to be safe than sorry.

"Was is los?" The guard poked at the pot and frowned over at Carter.

"That's soup." When the guard began to try to lift the lid, Carter risked a mild protest. "You're not supposed to touch it."

"Was?" The guard was well muscled and loomed a bit over Carter when he came stalking over to frown down at the POW. He seemed to think a moment to come up with the English words. "Where came the 'soup'?" He pointed at the pot as he repeated the question.

Carter looked at the pot a second, trying to smile and not look nervous. If LeBeau had seemed okay with this 'Schultz', then Carter should be friendly to him. "Oh it's okay, Newkirk got the vegetables for it." He nodded encouragingly at the guard and then pointed at the pot himself. "The soup, Newkirk got the food to make the soup. He got it from the… from your messhall so it's okay." He smiled.

'Schultz' seemed to frown more at that and then peered closer at Carter. "Englander Newkirk?"

"Yes. Uhh… ja! He's from England. That's why he talks funny. I mean, I guess all of us talk funny to you because you're German and all. But he talks different funny than us Americans."

"Pah." The guard glared around at the barracks and then seemed to come to a decision and left quickly. Carter let out a sigh of relief. Maybe LeBeau was right and the guard wasn't a bad guy. He sat himself down at the table again. He was glad LeBeau had warned him that Schultz was okay. Otherwise he wouldn't have known to be nice to him.

The barracks was full of prisoners when Carter's 'Schultz' returned with another grim-faced guard. The door slammed open and they came in yelling for the POWs to line up for a barracks inspection.

Carter tried to stand at attention next to his bunk. Newkirk elbowed him over slightly out of the way as the second guard came to toss the mattresses off of both of their bunks.

"Come off it, 'ere now… there's no need for all that!" protested Newkirk as Carter's few possessions joined the bedding on the floor.

'Schultz' picked up LeBeau's pot and took it to the door to toss the contents outside. "Cooking is verboten!" He stomped over to Newkirk's footlocker and kicked it open. "Stealing food from the officer's messhall… verboten!"

Before he could even attempt to dodge, Newkirk was cuffed in the side of his face and knocked to the floor. The guard kicked him solidly in the ribs. "Verboten! Understand, Englander?!"

Lying on the floor, Newkirk raised his hands while wincing. "Yes… verboten! Verboten!"

"Gut!" Satisfied, the two guards gathered up the few leftover vegetables along with any items that had caught their interest, forbidden or not, and exited.

LeBeau crossed the room in an instant. "Are you hurt?" He helped Newkirk to his feet, patting him carefully.

"Oi, leave off, LeBeau. I'm fine." said Newkirk with a touch of annoyance. "Buggering goons!"

Carter wrung his hands anxiously. "I thought you said that Schultz was okay? That's not okay! He could have really hurt someone!"

LeBeau turned an incredulous look on him. "That wasn't Schultz!"

Kinch was gathering up bedding to put back onto the bunks. "Yeah, it would take three of Schmitt to make one Schultz!"

"It wasn't? But when he came in earlier I just assumed since he was coming in here that he was the Schultz that you told me about. I was really nice to him because you said he was okay, I mean… I try to be nice to everyone and all but not too nice to the Germans but I answered his questions and all. I mean, it's only polite to answer someone when they ask you something. My mom always..."

Kinchloe spoke up. "Answered what questions?!"

Carter hesitated. "Well, he asked about the stew. He was going to mess with the pot and I told him that he wasn't supposed to and then he asked where the vegetables came from and well… I..."

"You just told him that Newkirk stole them?!" Olson straightened up from gathering up his own letters. "You idiot! He could have whipped or shot Newkirk for that!" He started towards Carter with menace.

Everyone in the barracks was glaring and there were quite a few clenched fists as the collective group began towards him. Carter cringed slightly, knowing that the beating he would get was well deserved but dreading it nonetheless.

Before anyone could reach him, Newkirk jumped up to grab him by his flight jacket. "You ruddy idiot! You could 'ave bloody well gotten me killed!" He shook the American hard enough to make him see stars. "I oughta beat you bloody, I should!" He gave him a hard shove into the corner of the bunk. "Get in your bunk!"

Carter scrambled to comply. Climbing into his lower berth, he huddled towards the wall to stare fearfully out at the rest of the barracks. Newkirk railed about Carter's stupidity to the rest of the POWs who continued to send glares towards the bunk. Carter started to apologize.

Newkirk whirled and jumped towards the bunk to shout at him. "Did I say you could talk? You just shut up and sit there!"

Carter scooted back, drawing his legs fully into the bunk and wrapped his arms around them. It wasn't fair. He didn't know. He looked at the wall in front of his nose and lowered his head slightly. He knew not to talk to Germans though. Even though LeBeau had said that Schultz was okay, he hadn't said for Carter to go blabbing about stealing food. His glance out at the rest of the barracks showed him a lot of still-angry faces. He resolved to sit as quietly as possible.

End Chapter

So now Carter's in trouble... will he get beaten up? Will Newkirk ever forgive him? Stay tuned for the next chapter soon.