Author's note: Major spoilers for Hamlet from here on out. The episodes referenced in this chapter are "Duel of Honor" and "Klink's Rocket," and Crittendon's butchered Shakespearean recitation was inspired by the one he did in "Hogan's Trucking Service… We Deliver the Factory to You."
The men of Barracks Two stared at their commanding officer with a mix of admiration and confusion.
"You mean we're going to put on a Shakespearean play?" Carter asked.
"Exactly," Hogan said, taking the book from Carter and paging through it. "The question is, though, which one? It was to be one we're all familiar with."
"How does putting on the play help us?" Thomas asked.
"It'll keep Crittendon busy, for one," Hogan said. "He's a Shakespeare buff—a terrible one, but a Shakespeare buff nonetheless. Let's see… Hamlet is the one I read in high school. Are the rest of you familiar with it?"
"I am," Kinch assured him.
"Yeah, me too!" Carter said.
"Oui, I know it—in English and in a French translation, Colonel."
"I read that one, too, Guv; me mates and I actually were part of a class production of it," Newkirk said. "I played the Prince of Denmark 'imself!"
"You played Hamlet?" Olsen asked, surprised.
"Sure—you ain't dealing with rubbish 'ere, you know!" the East Ender replied, pretending to sound affronted. He cleared his throat, putting on a more regal accent, and sunk to his knees to recite the prince's final lines. "So tell him, with th'occurents more and less which have solicited—the rest is silence."
He shut his eyes, slumping against the table.
"Now cracks a noble heart," LeBeau quoted, playing a very convincing—albeit French—Horatio. He sunk to his knees, as well, catching the "dying" Newkirk in his arms. "Good night, sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"
"All right, all right," Hogan said, suppressing a smirk. "Looks like I've found our Hamlet and Horatio."
"I'd make a good Laertes," Carter offered. "After all that saber duel practicing I did as General von Weidler—"
"We're not holding auditions, Carter; you can have the part. Just make sure you remember the lines," Hogan said.
"Of course I can remember the lines! Why would you think I couldn't?"
"Why would we?" Newkirk incredulously asked, still in LeBeau's arms. "You were the one who couldn't remember Leedingham! 'Two miles west of Hamleeding…' 'onestly!"
"I'm pretty sure Hamlet and Laertes don't rise from the dead to bring up old missions," Kinch deadpanned.
"And I think you'd make a great Fortinbras, Kinch," Hogan said, writing it down. "You've got the part. And… Olsen and Garlotti, you two are going to be Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Thomas, you're going to be Polonius. Baker, you'll be the ambassador."
"What about Ophelia and the queen, Sir?" Wilson asked. "Who plays them?"
"From what I understand, men traditionally played the female roles in Shakespearean plays," Hogan said.
Wilson looked absolutely mortified and stared at the ground to avoid "volunteering" for such a role, but Hogan's next words alleviated his fears.
"…However, Helga and Hilda might be persuaded to be in on it for some nylons and chocolates… So that takes care of that. Wilson, you and McMahon can be the gravediggers—"
"You mean our medic is a gravedigger?" LeBeau mused. "Oh, that inspires my confidence…"
"Say what you want, LeBeau," Wilson said. "Better a gravedigger than Ophelia or Queen Gertrude."
Carter snickered.
"Gertrude…" the tech sergeant chuckled. "Hey, we should get Frau Linkmeyer to play the queen—they both have the same name!"
"Don't say that!" Newkirk chided, throwing his hat at him while still in the Frenchman's arms. "She'd be playing me mother! Oh, shut up, Louis!" he directed at LeBeau, who had started snarking, as well.
"All right, calm down," Hogan said. "We're sticking with Hilda as Gertrude. We can get some of the Barracks Three boys to play the courtiers and other miscellaneous parts. So that just leaves us with the ghost and Claudius."
"You're going to be in this?" Carter asked, eager to see the colonel act in a Shakespearean play.
"Sorry, Carter; someone has to direct—and do the espionage work—while everyone else acts. I'll be able to disappear during the performance to take pictures of the plans in Klink's safe; Newkirk can use Act I, Scene I to get it open since Hamlet doesn't appear in it. He'll leave the safe a crack open, and I'll do the necessary photography."
"Brilliant," Newkirk said, applauding. "I've always said 'e's brilliant, 'aven't I? …Though that doesn't answer the question of who will play those two roles of the ghost and Claudius…"
"I'll ask Schultz to play the ghost—he'd have a ball with that," Hogan said, smirking at the thought of the rotund sergeant hamming it up onstage.
"Blimey, Sir, you're casting Schultzie was me father? Though I will admit that it is an improvement over Frau Linkmeyer as me mother…"
"Bet you're taking back that 'brilliant' statement, huh?" Carter smirked.
"Of course I'm not, Andrew! I'm sure the Guv'nor 'as a perfectly good reason for casting Schultz as the ghost."
"Mostly because I can," Hogan admitted. "And that just leaves Claudius. The actor for him should be walking in here just… about…"
"So, then!" Crittendon exclaimed, bursting inside Hogan's office. "We meet again, Comrades!"
"…Now," Hogan finished, suppressing a heavy sigh.
"I say…" Crittendon said, looking around and seeing Newkirk in LeBeau's arms. "Are you all right, Corporal? You appear to have fainted."
Newkirk rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
"Ah, Colonel Hogan," Klink said, as he and Schultz followed Crittendon inside. The smirk on the German colonel's face was one that the Heroes rarely saw—for which they were most grateful. "We have a visitor for the next two weeks; I trust you will make his stay most pleasant. After all, for the next two weeks, he is the new Senior POW Officer."
"We know, we know," Hogan said. "Though I still hope that you're letting me stay in charge of the theatre group."
"Theatre group?" Klink asked, puzzled.
"Yeah, the boys and I thought we'd put on a production of Hamlet—something to entertain General Burkhalter and all those other buffoons… I mean, other officers while they stay here. We figured that we could put it on in a few days."
Klink frowned.
"Hamlet," he murmured. "You're sure you couldn't do something more along the lines of a Shakespearean comedy? A Midsummer Night's Dream, perhaps? You know, I was once in a production of that very play, a long time ago; it was a German translation, of course. I played Bottom."
Hogan just barely refrained from uttering one of the dozen responses forming in his mind.
"Well, Colonel, my men were in the mood for something a little deeper than fairies with love potions running around," he began, after a moment.
"Ah-ah-ah…" Klink said, cutting him off. "For the next two weeks, they are Crittendon's men! Don't forget that, Hogan!"
"I'm sure you won't let me," Hogan said, his annoyance beginning to show through his usual mask of smugness.
"You can be sure of that, indeed," Klink said, sensing that the American was irked. "Your production of Hamlet is fine, and you are free to direct it—assuming that Crittendon approves, of course."
"Good; then can I assume you won't object to Crittendon's approval of Hilda and Helga being a part of it?" Hogan asked.
"Of course not!" Klink said, but then realized exactly what it was he had agreed to. "Hogan—!"
"I say, Colonel Klink, it's a jolly good idea, if you ask me!" Crittendon said. "I'll agree to the whole thing—Hamlet, Hilda, and Helga, too!"
"Well… Fine," Klink said, deciding that it would be worth seeing Crittendon give the orders for the next two weeks. "Crittendon, I'll leave them in your hands."
Crittendon respectfully saluted Klink, who returned the salute and left.
Schultz was about to go, but Hogan stopped him.
"Feel like playing the ghost in our production?" he offered.
"Oh, ja!" Schultz said. "…What do I do?"
"Look foreboding, say a few lines in a few scenes, Bob's your uncle," Newkirk said, biting back a smirk.
"Ja, I will do it! …But, Newkirk! My uncle's name is Kurt!"
"Never mind, Schultzie. Never mind…"
Schultz shrugged to himself and sidled out the door, though a part of him was visibly eager with his role.
"I knew he'd enjoy it," Hogan mused. He quickly sobered as he realized that coordinating his emergency plan was now going to be difficult with Crittendon hovering around them now.
The American colonel turned to the group captain.
"I suppose you'll want us to clear this place out for you?" he asked. "We can have it ready in an hour, maybe two, at the most…"
"In a minute, Hogan, in a minute…" Crittendon said, his interest piqued by the prospect of Hamlet. He regarded the American officer with some amount of curiosity. "Now, then, Hogan, about this production you're doing…"
"Would you like to be in it?" he offered.
"I say, are you serious?"
"We thought that you might like to take part in it," Hogan went on. "Knowing how you have such a flair for Shakespearean theatre…"
"Well, Hogan!" Crittendon replied, his torso swelling with pride. "I must say, I am honored that you'd think to include me in this production!"
"We wouldn't even dream of doing it without you," Kinch said, with a deadpan stare.
"Yes," the group captain replied, assuming it to be praise. "Now, then… Which role am I to be taking?"
"Oh, you'll be taking the role that was supposed to go to me," said Hogan. "King Claudius. I don't mind; I'm not that into Shakespeare. I'll make do with directing it…"
"Claudius?" Crittendon replied, slightly disappointed. "I see. I was rather hoping I'd get the title role, what? Given my interest for the material and all, the title role would be quite the feather in my cap… Ah, well, I suppose you all planned this well in advance; far be it from me to spoil your plans."
If you only knew, Hogan thought.
"Who is the lucky one to be playing the role of Hamlet?" Crittendon went on.
"That'd be me, Sir," Newkirk said.
"You?" Crittendon asked, quite surprised. "An East Ender playing Hamlet?"
Newkirk cleared his throat and adopted the regal accent again as he and LeBeau got to their feet. He picked up Carter's baseball that was on the table, pretending that it was a skull, and turned to the Frenchman.
"Alas, poor Yorik. I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of excellent fancy…"
"Yes, yes, he is good," Crittendon admitted. "But let me have a go." He cleared his throat. "He hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now…" He trailed off, growing nervous as he realized that he couldn't remember the rest of it. "Er… But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?"
The group all proceeded to slap their foreheads.
"Oh, blast—that's not it…" Crittendon said, realizing he had gotten the plays mixed up again. "Er… Once more, into the breach, Chaps!"
Hogan quietly cleared his throat, a very forced smile managing to find its way onto his face.
"Perhaps we should just let Newkirk play Hamlet?"
"Well… yes, I suppose that'll be best. Don't want me messing up the lines under pressure, what?"
Crittendon threw an arm around the corporal.
"I daresay we'll make a good team, eh, Newkirk?" he said. "Come; we have no time to lose!"
Newkirk maintained a very fixed smile, though his mind ranted and questioned his fate with a few curses here and a "Why me…?" there as Crittendon led him off to practice their shared scenes.
The East Ender's one consolation would be the sweet knowledge that it was Hamlet who ended up killing Claudius.
"Oh, Newkirk?" Hogan called.
The corporal looked back to see the colonel holding up the "canteen" he had given him.
"I think you might need this back, after all…"
Hogan tossed it across the room, where a highly grateful Newkirk caught it with one hand.
Steal a little more from Klink's liquor cabinet when you get the chance, Hogan mentally ordered the East Ender. I have a feeling we'll all be needing it before this is over.