"Hey, Newkirk, that's not funny!" Sergeant Carter shouted as he woke from a sound sleep.
On the bunk above him, Corporal Newkirk startled awake. "Huh? What? Carter, what are you on about?"
Carter rose up and faced Newkirk, wiping something wet from his mid-section. "Nice prank, Newkirk," he said.
Newkirk suddenly noticed a warm, wet sensation spreading beneath his belly on his thin mattress. He blushed and Carter quickly knew what had happened.
"Gosh, again, Peter?" Carter said softly. "OK, don't worry, buddy. I'll get the Colonel. We'll handle it." Newkirk nodded, eyes shot with fear.
Carter rapped at Colonel Hogan's door. "Come in," the Colonel said, and Carter edged in quietly. "What's up, Carter?"
"It's Newkirk, sir," Carter said. "He wet the bed."
"Not again", Hogan moaned. "He didn't get up, did he? He's gotta be mortified."
"He's still in bed, and yeah, he's real embarrassed," Carter said. "I woke up to a shower, and I yelled at him, assuming it was a prank. That woke him up and boy, did he turn red."
"Red, huh? That'll work," Hogan nodded. He opened the door to the main room, pushing Carter ahead of him as Sergeant Schultz entered Barracks 2. "Raus, Raus," the rotund sergeant bellowed. Schultz pointed at Newkirk, the only man still in his bunk, and added, "Aufstehen, Newkirk." Newkirk stayed silent, curled on his side, avoiding eye contact and praying that any dripping had stopped.
Hogan was there in a flash, laying a hand across Newkirk's forehead. "He's burning up, Schultz. We're keeping him in bed today. Carter, you stay with him. He can't be alone in this condition," he added, stroking Newkirk's head.
Schultz shrugged. "I'll tell the big shot. Rest, Englander." Out he went.
Newkirk shot a grateful look at Hogan as he herded the other men outside. As soon as they were gone, Newkirk hopped down from his bunk and started peeling off his sopping nightshirt and undershorts. "Sorry, m-m-mate," he told Carter. "I d-don't know what happened."
"It's OK, buddy, really," Carter replied. " You musta been out cold." No man could have been more understanding toward his friends than Carter, and Newkirk knew he didn't deserve him. By nature, Newkirk was irritable, impatient, and relentless in sniping at people. Especially Carter, who was nevertheless one of his best friends.
Carter might be a goofball, but right now he was total competence, and Newkirk was grateful. "Tell you what, Newkirk," he said as he hauled the wet mattress down from the top bunk. "I'll take this one into the Colonel's office and swap it for the mattress on his bottom bunk. Then we can figure out how to clean that wet one in private."
Newkirk sighed. He was washing pee off his belly and legs with a cold cloth at the sink and wincing, but it had to be done. He toweled off, pulled on dry undershorts and got dressed. Then he went to help Carter carry the dry mattress to the common room.
"What about your blanket", Newkirk asked. "How wet did I get it?"
"Ahhh. Not so bad," Carter said. "We'll wash it with our laundry. Now hop back up."
"Wait a m-minute, why?" Newkirk said. "I'm already d-dressed."
"The Colonel told Schultz you had a raging fever. You can't recover that fast!" Carter replied.
"Right," Newkirk said pensively. "Well, I could go lie down in the Colonel's office…"
"On your wet mattress," Carter replied. "Smart."
Sarcasm from Carter, Newkirk thought. Unusual. "All right, M-Mr. Clever, what do you suggest?" Newkirk asked exasperated
"You're right get back in bed," Carter said.
"Righto," Newkirk said. Then he realized his nightshirt was soaked. "No, wait. Nothing to wear."
"OK, Newkirk," Carter said. "Sit at the table and hold this to your head." He handed Newkirk a cold, wet towel. "I'll say I made you get up to uh, improve your blood flow. And look! The flushing from your fever is already gone!"
"All right," Newkirk agreed. He sat at the table and tried to look miserable. It wasn't hard.
Hogan poked his head back in the barracks and looked around to see if everything was in order. Carter gave him a nod and Hogan smiled back. He took a seat at the table next to Newkirk.
"I told Kinch and LeBeau to keep everyone out for 15 minutes. Before everyone gets back, what the heck happened, Newkirk?" Hogan asked.
"Governor, if I knew, do you think I would let it happen?" Newkirk said, his eyes wide. "It's bloody em-em-embarrassing."
"I swear if this keeps up I'm ordering a supply of diapers in our next shipment from London," Hogan muttered.
Newkirk looked puzzled until Hogan snapped, "nappies", then gasped and blushed again. "Noooo," Newkirk moaned.
"Sorry, poor taste," Hogan continued. "But no drinks before bedtime. Hit the latrine before lights out, you hear me? I'll get Kinch to start waking you up at 4 am to pee. That might help." Hogan's expression softened as his glum corporal nodded. "I know you can't help it, and it's been a month since last time. But we're out of mattresses", Hogan whispered. Then he put an arm around Newkirk.
"But you know, Newkirk, there's something I've wanted to tell you for ages," he said in a confiding tone.
"What's that sir?" Newkirk asked as Hogan rose and walked to the stove to pour himself some coffee.
"Piss off," Hogan said to Newkirk in his best British accent. Newkirk just groaned and dropped his head to the table.
Carter patted his back sympathetically. "Come on, buddy," he said. "Help me start the laundry."