Night had fallen, and all the prisoners had reported to their quarters for the night. Hogan, Kinchloe, Carter, and LeBeau were playing a game of poker, while Newkirk sat at a desk writing something that looked like a letter back home to loved ones.
Kinchloe laid down a card on the table smiling smug over at LeBeau from across him.
"Looks like your luck's running short, LeBeau." Kinchloe teased.
"My luck could turn around at any moment." LeBeau spat.
"I wouldn't get my hopes too high up, men." Hogan commented, sly. He laid down his hand on the table. "Royal hand in diamonds."
All the men at the table moaned and threw in their hands.
"Hogan, this is the fourth time you've beat us this week." Carter groaned.
"Well, I do have a way of handling things." Hogan replied.
Newkirk took a hand and started rubbing his forehead. His head had not stopped aching since dinner ended. Along with that, his cough had grown more harsh and a minor bellyache had hit him. He leaned over on the desk holding his head up with his hands and moaned softly.
Hogan looked up from where he was sitting and stood at the hearing of Newkirk's moan. He approached over to him slowly and touched his shoulder, gently.
"You feeling alright, Newkirk?" Hogan questioned.
"I'm alright, sir; I got a bit of a headache, is all." Newkirk answered back, tired.
Hogan helped Newkirk to his feet and to a chair to sit down in. He wanted to get a better look at him to make sure everything was alright. He knelt down and looked Newkirk in the eyes. They were slightly clouded and dreary looking. His color seemed to be a bit off, as well.
"Newkirk, you sure you're feeling alright?" Hogan questioned, slightly dissatisfied.
"I just have a small headache and a slight stomachache, but I promise yah I'm fine as rain, Hogan." Newkirk answered, wincing slightly.
Hogan nodded and gently patted his friend's shoulder.
"Kinchloe, get Newkirk in his pajamas and covered up snug in bed. It's cold season, I'm pretty sure that's what's ailing him." Hogan answered.
"Yes, sir," Kinchloe remarked.
Kinchloe took Newkirk into another room and helped him settle in for the night. The other three were left as they were.
"You don't think anything is terribly wrong with Newkirk, do you, Hogan?" Carter questioned.
"Nonsense; Newkirk will be fine in a few days." Hogan answered, sure of himself.
"Got a pretty nasty case of a cold, there." LeBeau commented.
"Newkirk will be back to himself in about four to six days; in the meantime, we have fish to fry." Hogan said, walking over to a bunk bed. Both Carter and LeBeau sat down, as Hogan pulled down a screen with a map on it. "Now, see this railroad track over here?"
Both men nodded.
"That my friends is one of the most used train tracks used in all of Germany. Messages from Stalag 13 are transported to other camps and even all the way to Berlin." Hogan spoke.
"What about it, Colonel?" Carter questioned.
"Men, my plan consists of," Hogan was cut off, when Schultz walked in. As soon as he saw the door begin to open, Hogan pulled another string and on it was a game of hangman. Both Carter and LeBeau began guessing letters.
"Uh 'C'," LeBeau cried.
"No, uh...'O'," Carter exclaimed.
Schultz turned to Hogan and approached him.
"What is going on in here, Colonel Hogan?" Schultz questioned.
"Oh, nothing more than an innocent game of hangman. Would you like to join?" Hogan questioned.
"No; I have come here to alert you that Colonel Klink wishes to speak with you." Schultz answered.
"About what,"
"I don't know, Colonel; he says it's very urgent."
Hogan nodded.
"Alright, Carter, LeBeau, help Kinchloe as much as possible care for Newkirk." Hogan ordered, firmly, as he grabbed his hat.
"Newkirk, what's wrong with Corporal Newkirk?" Schultz spoke, slightly frightened.
"Oh, nothing more than a cold; we all get them sometimes, Schultz." Hogan answered.
He walked out being followed shortly by Schultz closing the door.
Both Carter and LeBeau rose from their spots and walked into the other room to help care for Newkirk.
"A list of symptoms for typhoid?" Hogan exclaimed.
"Yes, Colonel Hogan, a list of symptoms. I want you to know immediately whether one of your men have the disease or develop signs of it." Klink ordered.
Hogan paced around Klink's office reading the list thoroughly. He took in every sentence, list, and punctuation mark to the last drop.
"Colonel Klink, I think you're taking this a little too seriously. Surely everyone has taken necessary precautions of avoiding all sources of water unless directed by you." Hogan replied, reading through the list.
"Fever, intense stomach pain, headache, pinkish red spots on the chest, slow heart rate, delirium, intestinal hemorrhaging, neuropsychiatric symptoms, low white blood cells count; I can assure you none of my men have any case of typhoid." Hogan answered.
"Colonel Hogan, typhus is also being associated with the typhoid fever outbreak."
"Typhus; that's rather deadly, isn't it?"
"Along with typhoid fever, it is extremely deadly; if any of my prisoners are diagnosed with the diseases, I could have this camp permanently closed!"
"Well, that wouldn't be so terribly bad." Hogan muttered to himself.
"Here's a list of necessary precautions I want all of your men to look at and read closely."
"Yes, Colonel Klink,"
Hogan was about to leave the office, when Klink stopped him.
"Colonel Hogan," Klink ordered.
Hogan turned around and looked at Klink.
"Yes, Colonel," Hogan answered.
"You will report to me if any of your men fall ill with the following symptoms of typhoid fever and/or typhus; do I make myself clear?!" Klink snapped.
"Clear as water, Colonel." Hogan answered back.
Klink glared at him, and Hogan walked out to go back to his quarters for the night.
It was around 1 AM in the camp. Hogan was deep in sleep dreaming about escaping from the camp. It was not long before Hogan was shaken awake by a frightened Kinchloe.
"Hogan...Hogan...Colonel Hogan, wake up!" Kinchloe exclaimed.
Hogan opened his eyes, turned on the light, and lowered his eyes on Kinchloe.
"Do you have any idea what time it is? I was having the best sleep I've had in four months!" Hogan snapped.
"Colonel Hogan, it's Newkirk!" Kinchloe cried.
Hogan raised his eyebrow.
"What about Newkirk," Hogan asked, suspicious.
"Sir, he's got red splotches all over his chest; his fever's 104 degrees, all joints and muscles ache, his stomach is causing him severe pain, and he's as pale as the bedsheets he lays on!" Kinchloe reported, trying to remain calm.
"Where is he,"
"In there, sir,"
Hogan and Kinchloe ran off to find LeBeau and Carter trying to get Newkirk's fever to go down by having a fan oscillate around the room. Newkirk's hands were on his abdomen trying to breathe and handle severe pain. Hogan ran to Newkirk's side and knelt down besides him.
"Newkirk, what's going on?" Hogan ordered.
"Colonel...I...stomach...oh." Newkirk moaned, breaking into more sweat.
Hogan put a hand to Newkirk's head; he was burning up.
"Kinchloe, get Colonel Klink...hurry!" Hogan ordered, frantic.
"Yes, sir," Kinchloe answered running off.
Hogan turned his attention on nothing else but Newkirk.
"Newkirk, you stay with me, you got it? You stay here with me!" Hogan ordered, hiding fear in his voice just barely.
"Colonel...I can't...the pain…" Newkirk started hyperventilating, gasping for air.
"Relax, Newkirk; calm breaths, ease yourself through the pain...you're gonna be alright." Hogan spoke, softly.
Newkirk nodded barely and slipped off into unconsciousness.
