Well I'm very glad that this is popular, and please, have faith, things aren't always as bad as they might seem. Something Carter might want to remember as well. Thank you all for the huge outpouring of reviews and feedback. *bows*

CHAPTER 2

After nearly an hour, the officer came back into the barracks looking annoyed. "What's this I hear about the Krauts hitting someone?" A clamor of voices met him and he held up his hand to silence them. "One at a time."

LeBeau burst out with rapid fire French. Hogan rolled his eyes but Newkirk looked over before he could chastise the Frenchman. "Oi! Louis, in English!" He jerked his chin towards the empty stove. "A couple of the goons busted LeBeau cooking and tossed the bunks. They took some stuff but they didn't find anything major, sir." He turned his face away, pretending to be straightening his playing cards on the table. "Nothing out of the ordinary, sir."

Hogan stalked over and took Newkirk by his jaw. Looking at the slight mark on his cheekbone, he clenched his jaw in anger. "And punched you too?"

"Naw, sir, just a little smack." Newkirk shrugged it off. "They found some of the leftovers in me footlocker."

Hogan visibly collected himself. "I'll go have a talk with Klink. If he won't control his guards, we'll arrange things ourselves." He stepped away. "Kinch, keep a lid on our hotheads."

Kinch nodded. "Yes sir."

As Hogan reached for the door, Carter poked his head out. "Sir, it was really..."

Before he could finish, Newkirk put a hand onto his forehead and shoved him back out of sight. "Get back in your bunk!" He shrugged at Hogan. "New guys always wanting to give their blooming opinions, sir."

Hogan's eyes flicked to the shadowed bunk and then back up to Newkirk who seemed to make the smallest of gestures. "Right. I'll be back shortly." He nodded to LeBeau. "There's still some canned goods from the last Red Cross shipment under my bunk. I'm sure you can divide that up tonight."

"Yes sir, mon Colonel. I will." LeBeau barely waited until the door shut behind the senior officer before he went to the small office at the end of the barracks.

Carter tried one more time. "I was just going to tell him it was my fault that.."

"Did I say you could talk?!" roared Newkirk angrily. "Just bloody well sit there and shut up!"

"I'm sorry!" Carter drew back as far as possible as Newkirk booted the edge of the bunk hard enough to shake the entire thing. He clamped his lips shut and sat still again. Everything he did made everyone angry at him and he always screwed up.

"Bloody well shut it!" Newkirk stood glaring at him until he was sure the American would stay silent. Then he returned to the community table to settle in and pick up the deck of cards. "Bloody Yanks screw up everything."

"Hey, do I need to remind you where I came from, Peter?" The tall black man looked vaguely annoyed.

"No offense, Kinch." Newkirk's ruffled feathers seemed to vanish to be replaced with worry. "I just meant new Yanks. Not you old timers."

"Old timers? I think that might be worse." Kinch's good humor returned and he gestured at the pack of cards. "Deal me in. We might as well get a hand or two in before LeBeau gets some food ready."

Olson joined them and most of the rest of the barracks gathered to watch and kibbitz to the great annoyance of the players. Carter sat in his bunk quietly and tried not to attract any more glares than he was already getting. Hogan returned looking annoyed and went into his office without speaking to anyone. LeBeau's efforts with the Red Cross food didn't take long and soon the POWs were heaping praise on the little Frenchman as they got plates of the mushy looking concoction.

Carter could smell the food but didn't dare even sniff loudly. LeBeau spooned food onto the last man's plate and then glanced towards the bunk. Carter scrunched back again. After a moment, LeBeau snatched up one of the extra plates and slapped a small heap of the mush onto it and practically stomped over to the bunk.

Just as he began to extend the plate to Carter there was a sudden protest from Newkirk. "Oi! You're not going to feed that stupid git, are you?" Newkirk pointed his fork at the cowering figure. "After 'e practically got me bloody killed?" The outrage was clear in his tone.

LeBeau seemed to hesitate but then looked at the pitiful expression on the young man hiding in his bunk. "Oui. I can't enjoy my meal with someone starving in the same room, even if it is a really stupid someone."

Newkirk made a lot of grumpy noises but LeBeau thrust the plate towards Carter. "Here. It's not much but then it's your fault that it's all we have tonight." LeBeau sounded annoyed himself.

Carter watched a few sympathetic looks but mostly everyone seemed to be siding with Newkirk. He ate quickly, wiping every scrap of the mush off the plate with his finger. It was surprisingly tasty. When LeBeau got up to wash his plate, Carter tried to scoot out himself, hoping to hide the movement behind the smaller man.

"Oi!" Newkirk had homed in on Carter instantly. He was up and headed towards the hapless American almost faster than Carter could throw himself back into the bunk. Almost. "Ruddy git." Newkirk returned to the table.

Kinch frowned at the Englishman. "He was just going to clean his plate, Newkirk." A few of the others nodded a little.

"Well, maybe 'e should 'ave uhhh, thought about that before he went and blabbed to the guards." Newkirk scowled back at Kinch.

Instead of arguing, Kinch just shook his head and finished his dinner. When he went to wash his plate, he reached in to scoop up Carter's plate too. A warning look directed at Newkirk made the annoyed man close his mouth on any protest.

By the time the men had all cleaned up, the door swung open to admit the fattest camp guard that Carter had ever seen. He was also possibly the oldest German soldier he'd ever seen too. "Come on, roll call! Everybody roll call, raus!" For all of the shouting, the POWs didn't seem impressed to move very quickly, taking their time to grab coats and hats and even fussing at the guard.

LeBeau wrapped a thick scarf around his neck, standing on tiptoes to make faces at the guard. "Oui Schultz, we know, we know. Roll call!"

Carter started to get out of the bunk and then drew back as Newkirk came to grab his greatcoat from the top bunk. The Englishman reached in and dragged Carter out by his jacket lapel. "Get out there! You'll bloody well get the whole barracks in trouble! How stupid can one Yank be?"

Carter was shoved towards the door and barely got his cap crammed onto his head before he scooted out of the door. He found his spot in the back row and stood there while the guards attempted to count all of the prisoners. The real Schultz seemed to get aggravated at the prisoners shouting at him but he never even threatened to hit any of them. Carter began to see the difference.

Schultz protested to Colonel Hogan finally. "Puuulease, Colonel Hogan, tell the boys to settle down so I can count them properly! They won't stand still! I am supposed to count all of the prisoners and they are supposed to stand in their rows!"

Hogan looked over with raised eyebrows at the men who all shifted around yet again. "Sorry Shultz. They're very nervous. When they get scared and nervous, they can't stand still."

Newkirk scoffed at Schultz, earning himself a reproachful frown. "Maybe you should count all of our fingers and divide by ten, Schultzy. Would that 'elp any?"

"Shush! Newkirk! Just stand there!" Schultz threw his pudgy hands in the air as Newkirk dodged back to reappear further down the line. "WHY are they so bad tonight, Colonel Hogan!?"

Once again, Hogan affected a surprised expression. "Well, you can't expect them to just stand there to get beaten, Schultz. Would you stand there if some big mean nasty Kraut was going to hit you for no reason?"

Schultz mulled that over. "Well no, I wouldn't if… wait a minute! I did not hit any prisoner! I am not a big mean nasty Kraut! And you shouldn't say Kraut. You should say 'good loyal German soldier'. That sounds nicer."

LeBeau glared up at him. "I think Bosch sounds better! Dirty filthy pigs! Brutes!"

"LeBeau!" Schultz shouted at the little Frenchman. "Stop that! You be nice!"

Before Schultz could get too distracted, Hogan spoke up again. "Well maybe you didn't beat anyone, but Sergeant Schmitt did earlier. So the guys just all assumed that you'd be hitting them next." Carter was watching from right behind the Colonel and marveling at how he was manipulating the German guard so easily. It all seemed to be so true and reasonable to believe what the American officer was saying.

Schultz finally got an angry look and Carter drew back half a step, thinking that perhaps Colonel Hogan had gone too far and the big German would actually begin hitting prisoners. But Schultz instead turned his glare onto the POWs and waved them into line with angry shouts. "Get into line! All of you! Right now! Line up!"

As much as the prisoners seemed fearless when it came to at least this particular guard, they did recognize something in his tone and settled into lines with a minimum of fuss. They still complained loudly but Schultz was able to get them counted. It wasn't until Carter saw Hogan's raised hand that he realized the prisoners were responding to their Colonel and not the guard at all.

When Schultz got to Newkirk, the Englishman rather dramatically cringed away, covering up his head. "No! Don't 'it me, Schultzy! I've been beat enough, I 'ave!"

Schultz stepped back and protested to Hogan. "I never touched him!"

Shrugging elaborately, Hogan reached out to pat Newkirk gently. "He's so frightened, Schultz. You see, he's the one that Schmitt was beating up earlier. You can't blame the poor man."

Schultz did seem upset but he finished counting and turned around to stand in front of the small group from barracks 2. That's when Carter saw Hogan's gentle hand on Newkirk's shoulder clench down hard. The Colonel pulled him in close to whisper. "Stop padding your part." He released him and Newkirk straightened up and glanced guiltily at Hogan before shifting just a few inches further away. LeBeau elbowed him lightly in annoyance making him wince slightly.

Once the kommandant had received all the reports that no prisoners were missing and made a short inane speech about how well the Germans were doing in winning the war, he dismissed them. Hogan paused instead of going directly inside and so Carter stopped short of the door to see what the Colonel was watching.

Schultz had stomped off angrily the instant they were dismissed. He headed directly for the guard from before and grabbed him up by his coat back. There seemed to be a lot of protestations but the big Sergeant Schultz didn't seem to be listening to any of it.

"Inside, Sergeant Carter." Colonel Hogan put an arm out as if to guide Carter inside. "Don't worry, Schultz won't actually hurt you." The officer had a kind twinkle in his eyes, far from the beaten down haggard gaze of the last ranking officer that Carter had been under. This officer looked like he had a secret that was amusing and that he would like to share. Hogan's arm went around Carter's shoulders and his hand pressed onto his arm through the flight jacket. Once inside, Hogan released Carter with a little fond pat and he walked away without a backwards glance. Kinchloe and Hogan went into his office looking as if they had a purpose. Carter found himself relaxing a little more. Colonel Hogan seemed like an officer who took proper care of his men and maybe things wouldn't be so bad here.

Turning to walk away, he almost stepped into Newkirk who was giving him an angry glare. Carter opened his mouth to apologize and shut it when the glare turned into a disapproving frown. Newkirk pointed and Carter immediately went to get into his bunk without another word being spoken.

LeBeau gave him a sympathetic look before he went to give Newkirk a punch in the arm. "Hey, Newkirk are you still grumpy? Come on, let's play some cards. I'll play you for a couple cigarettes." They settled at the table to play yet another hand of cards, with Olson immediately coming over to sit on LeBeau's side and give the Frenchman unwanted advice.

With everyone distracted, Carter took the risk of reaching out to get his footlocker open to get the battered paperback book he'd traded for at the last camp. He'd already read it twice but once more wouldn't hurt. Then maybe he could trade it for a book from someone else. Listening to the other men joking and teasing each other only a few feet away made him feel both homey and lonely. The other POWs seemed like nice enough guys and they joked with each other in a friendly way. If only Carter could figure out how to insert himself into the mix without screwing everything up. Well, if Newkirk ever let him out of his bunk, that is. Maybe by morning the Englishman would have forgotten all about it. He couldn't hold a grudge forever, could he?

End Chapter

I dunno, sometimes I think Newkirk could hold a grudge forever... well, we'll have to see next time. There are only 3 chapters to this story so one more to go. Thank you for reading.