Part IV
At the call for prisoners to assemble, Kinchloe hurried back to Barracks Two to help LeBeau get Newkirk to his feet and in uniform. They made sure to flank him in formation as well to insure that no-one jostled into their friend's sore ribs.
Shivering in the cold didn't feel good at all to his aching body, but Newkirk was an old hand now as masking discomfort. Still, it seemed an age before Klink finally came out and began giving his talk - starting with how there had been no successful escape since he took over the camp and ending with the introduction of the new Senior Allied POW, Colonel Hogan.
Any positive thoughts that came at that news were quickly dashed when Newkirk caught a glimpse of who was right by Colonel Hogan's side. Fetherston. He gave a sigh and glanced up to the sky.
Guv - I know I 'ave me faults, but I've always tried me best - can't I get cut just a wee bit o' slack?
He didn't expect an answer. Hadn't expected one since his mother died. The only reason he'd ever set foot in a church after that was to please his grandmother, but she'd been dead for quite awhile now as well.
At any rate, there was no slack being cut that day. Instead of being released from formation to go back into the barracks, they were forced to remain outside even longer than usual as the new officer made his way around. Newkirk could hear Fetherston's voice as they approached Barracks Two.
"This is rather the barracks with the black sheep in it. Main one you'll need to watch out for is Corporal Newkirk."
"He tends to be a handful?"
"That's putting it mildly. If you just finish out the paperwork with Colonel Klink, he'll soon be out of your hair. One less worry."
Hogan was looking over the eight men that currently made up Barracks Two and was slightly surprised to see the utter hatred directed at Fetherston that he saw in two sets of eyes. None of which belonged to the one being talked down. For his part, Corporal Newkirk was staring straight ahead at nothing. There was a story here or Hogan would eat his leather jacket. Without ketchup.
"This is the barracks Klink has assigned me to. Don't worry. I'll keep a close eye on everything."
Hogan watched as the men were dismissed from formation and politely turned down Fetherston's invitation to join him. How men divided off into groups told him a lot about the men. Most tended to stick to their own, but one trio of men stood out for being so absolutely contrary to that rule. It especially intrigued him since one of the three was the 'infamous' Corporal Newkirk and the other two were the ones that had been shooting daggers at Fetherston. There was another reason that Newkirk intrigued Hogan. Colonel Klink knew very few prisoners by name, but he'd known immediately who Newkirk was.
Acting as if he was taking a casual stroll to acquaint himself with the compound, Hogan sought out another man that Fetherston had marked as a possible malcontent. A faint smile touched his lips as he moved over to where the man was leaning and exchanged salutes with Sergeant Wilson. If Fetherston had only known.
"Colonel Hogan, sir. Getting a feel for the place?"
"Oh yes. It's absolutely charming here, Wilson. I just need a cottage and some porridge to complete the fairy tale scene."
Wilson's head snapped up as he took a better look at the smiling Colonel. He had gotten messages slipped to him in letters from his non-existant fiance. Taking a deep breath, he gave the countersign.
"Plenty of bears around, but I'm afraid they left Goldilocks over in London."
Moving further from the barracks as if showing Hogan the scenic barbed wire fences, Wilson spoke again quietly.
"I'd gotten to where I didn't think anyone was coming, sir."
"These things take time, Sergeant. So, how did you get saddled with being on Fetherston's bad boy list?"
"I gave aid and assistance to the enemy, sir."
That puzzled Hogan. This was, to say the least, a delicate mission he'd been entrusted with. Surely his contact wouldn't be a Nazi sympathizer.
"You've been helping the Krauts?"
"No, the Cockney. Corporal Newkirk, sir."
Glancing back toward Barracks Two, Hogan stood thoughtfully for a moment or two.
"What's the story behind those three?"
"If Newkirk is one of the three, that would make the other two Corporal LeBeau and Sergeant Kinchloe, sir."
Wilson started to say something, then apparently decided against it.
"No offense, Colonel, but if you're the sort of man that deserves to be leading a crew like this, you'll be able to sort things out for yourself. I will say one thing though. You manage get those three on your side and I wouldn't bet against you or the mission."
The words 'deserves to be' jumped out at Hogan and a faint smile formed.
"Is this a challenge, Wilson?"
Wilson just gave a shrug and a slight smile in return.
"If you like, sir. Let's just say previous officers may have left you with some hard soil to try and till."
It didn't take a genius to figure out Wilson was referring to Fetherston. Hogan had noticed there wasn't even one enlisted man that seemed genuinely fond of the man. Just a few bootlickers trying to curry favor.
"Good thing I love a challenge then. Thanks, Wilson."
Strolling back toward Barracks Two, Hogan paused by one of the windows and leaned there to catch the snippets of conversations inside.
"Three? Bloody 'ell. Why don't 'e just tell th' guards t' shoot me?"
"Do not give that batard any ideas, mon ami."
"Louis is right, Pete. We'll figure out something... Pete? What did you do with my watch this time?"
"Try yer left 'and pocket, mate."
"How do you do that? Taking it I can figure - I knew guys in Detroit that had fast fingers, but they never put stuff into pockets."
"A true magician never revels 'is secrets, James. Louis? Could I bother you a spot o' something warm? Th' ol' moltin' eagle 'ad us out there long enough that me bones got icicles."
"Oui. One condition. Three deep breaths first."
"Oh fer th' luv o' - fine. 'Appy now, mum?"
"Thrilled, mon fils."
"If I knew French, I'd likely be givin' you a swat fer an insult, wouldn't I?"
"It was no more of an insult than you calling me mere. And learning French could only do you good. It is le langage de l'amour."
Straightening up and brushing off his jacket, Hogan headed inside as the snow started to fall again. The barracks weren't a great deal warmer than the outside, but at least the wind was blocked off. The second he was in, all of the talking stopped and he was being silently studied by all eight men. Definately a challenge.
Moving over to the room that was now his, Hogan opened the door and took a look inside before looking back over the men.
"Private Banks - could I see you in my office? Such as it is?"
His attempt at a little joke fell flat. It was impossible not to notice that everyone was looking at Banks as if he was heading toward a firing squad. Damn. Wilson really wasn't kidding about hard soil. The interview didn't go much better. He halfway expected Banks to start answering with just his name, rank and serial number. Dismissing the private, Hogan sat down and considered. He was going to have to break through the wall of distrust somehow or his mission would fail before it even started. Then he thought back to the statement Wilson had made and went to the door again.
"Sergeant Kinchloe - I'd like to see you in my office."
He had to bite back a sigh when he saw the man exchanging hand grips with LeBeau and Newkirk before heading over. Still, the Sergeant gave him an extremely proper salute that he returned.
"At ease, Sergeant. Have a seat."
The wary look in the black man's eyes was the last exasperating straw.
"Look, Sergeant - I get it. Officers aren't exactly trusted or welcomed with open arms around here. But we need to work together and to do that, I need to know something about you guys."
Kinchloe's eyes were unreadable and the tone of his voice was equally so.
"I'm sure Group Captain Fetherston filled you in on all of us 'black sheep', Colonel."
"He did, but I seem to sense there's some sort of personality conflict going on."
"Impossible, sir. T' 'ave a personality conflict, Fetherston would 'ave t' 'ave a personality."
Hogan's head snapped around to take in the sight of the English and French corporals standing side by side in his doorway. He kept his own expression neutral.
"You know you could probably be accused of insubordination, Corporal."
Newkirk just shrugged.
"If that 'appens, it does, sir. 'Ardly be th' worst thing I've been accused of."
"You realize that I requested to see the Sergeant in my office alone?"
"Non. Je vous demande pardon, Colonel. You did request to see him in your office, but did not say alone."
To all of their surprise, Hogan started laughing.
"So I did. Come the rest of the way in - both of you. And this time, shut the door before you have a seat."
