After returning from working at the party for General Berger, Hogan and his exhausted men were looking forward to grabbing some much-needed sleep. They piled into the barracks and began to change into their nightclothes. Newkirk handed the camera over to Kinch, who took it below to the tunnel with him. The sergeant was headed down there, anyway, to let London know that the mission was successful.
As they were settling into their bunks, Newkirk crouched down in front of his footlocker, opened it and, after glancing around quickly, took a pill from the box inside and popped it into his mouth.
"Whatcha got there, Newkirk?" Carter asked from behind him.
Newkirk nearly choked as he forcibly swallowed the pill. "Blimey, Andrew," he responded as he turned to look at him, "Don't you know you shouldn't sneak up on a bloke like that?"
"Sorry, buddy," Carter replied, "I was just curious what you were taking, that's all."
"I'd say it's none of your ruddy business, Carter," Newkirk snapped.
Carter's face fell. "Geez, Newkirk, I didn't mean to bother you," he apologized.
Newkirk's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Andrew," he answered, his guilt nudging him, "I've just got this 'eadache, and I was takin' an aspirin to 'elp make it go away so I could sleep. I didn't mean to…"
"Oh, that's okay, Newkirk," Carter interrupted, "I wasn't trying to be nosy, I was just curious. I think that's a good idea to take an aspirin if you're head is hurting. Hey, maybe it'll help keep you from having another nightmare tonight!"
Newkirk smiled. "You never know, Andrew…it just might."
The men climbed into their respective bunks, and soon Newkirk could hear Carter snoring softly. As he waited for the medicine to knock him out, his guilt started to take over. Ah, what a twister I've become, 'aven't I? Wilson, the gov'nor…and now Andrew. I've got to stop takin' these bloody things…but then 'ow am I ever goin' to get any sleep? He let out a yawn and, as he drifted off to sleep, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered, you can't stop, you know…you're hooked.
* * * * * *
"Hey, Kinch, you still up?" Hogan asked as he jumped down from the ladder that led into the tunnel and approached the radioman. He'd gone to his quarters when they'd returned from the party, hopping up onto his bunk with every intention of getting some sleep. But after spending what seemed an eternity tossing and turning, he eventually gave up, and decided to go down to the tunnels; he needed to work off some of his nervous energy, and they provided more room for pacing. When he'd emerged from his quarters, he was surprised to see Kinch's bunk empty, and assumed the sergeant was still manning the radio. Sure enough, as he climbed down, he spotted him right away.
"Yes, sir," Kinch answered, surprised to see Hogan still up. "I just got done talking to the Underground, and they told me who's been helping to set up the missions lately."
"They did?" Hogan replied, leaning against the desk.
"Yes, they did," Kinch said. "Apparently there's a new agent working with them; he calls himself the Sandman. He's the one who's been passing along all the information about the missions, and getting the secret papers to us using the hotel safes."
"The Sandman?" Hogan echoed, "How long has he been part of the Underground?"
"Not long, Colonel; a few weeks or so. And no one has ever seen him."
"No one's seen him?" Hogan could feel the alarm bells going off in his head. "Kinch, I've got a bad feeling about this," he said as he began to do what he'd intended to do when he initially came down to the tunnel; pace.
Kinch nodded. "So do I."
Hogan continued to walk back and forth, his brow furrowed in concentration. After a few minutes, he stopped and looked at Kinch.
"All right, here's what I want you to do. Contact the Underground and tell them Papa Bear requests a meeting with the Sandman, face to face. And tell them I won't take no for an answer. I want to meet their newest member in person."
"Yes, sir," Kinch replied, "But what if the Sandman refuses?"
Hogan frowned. "Then tell them that we won't go on any more of his missions until we do, got it?"
"I got it, Colonel," Kinch now looked at Hogan questioningly. "But, will they?"
Hogan's expression took on a look of determination. "They better," he said, then a yawn suddenly overtook him. "You know, you can send that in the morning, Kinch. I think we both could use some sleep."
"You sure, sir?"
Hogan smiled at him. "I'm sure. You've got to be tired, Kinch."
As if on cue, Kinch let out a huge yawn. "I wouldn't mind getting some sleep, Colonel," he replied.
"Me, neither. C'mon," Hogan headed for the ladder and climbed up to the barracks, Kinch right behind him. As Hogan tiptoed to his quarters, he looked over and saw that Newkirk was sound asleep. Please, no nightmares tonight, he pleaded in his head, wishing his thoughts could somehow influence Newkirk's subconscious. Then he disappeared into his quarters and, after jumping up on his bunk and stretching out, eventually fell asleep.
* * * * *
"Tsk, tsk, Newkirk, you have a problem, you know," Steiger said as he shook his head slowly at the corporal.
"I do not!" Newkirk shouted, yanking on his chains. "I can stop anytime!"
"Can you?" It was Hogan's voice. Newkirk whipped his head back and forth, trying to see where it was coming from. As he looked to his right, he saw him chained up to the wall next to him.
"Colonel! Are you all right?" Newkirk asked worriedly.
"I'm all right, Newkirk," Hogan answered calmly, "Are you?"
Newkirk stared at him, his expression changing quickly from concern to defiance. "I'm fine! Why can't you all just bloody leave me alone? I'm fine!" he shouted.
"You don't sound fine to me," Hogan replied.
"I'm afraid I have to agree with your Colonel," Steiger now interjected, "You're not fine at all. In fact, I'd have to say you're quite a mess."
"No, I'm not!" Newkirk was adamant, "I know what I'm bloody doin'; I don't care if you don't believe me!"
Steiger smiled. "You don't know how happy I am to hear that! It makes my surprise for you so much more fun…for me."
Newkirk could feel his gut tighten, and he swallowed hard. "What surprise?" he asked tentatively.
"I thought you'd never ask!"
Steiger stepped back, and suddenly Newkirk noticed the table behind him. There was a body on it, covered by a sheet, and for a brief second he thought it was Hogan. But no, Hogan was chained to the wall next to him.
Just then the SS Major reached down and pulled the sheet away, and Newkirk gasped; it was Carter!
"Andrew!" Newkirk exclaimed, "Andrew, please, get up, you've got to get away, run away, now, Andrew, please!"
"Newkirk, is that you?" Carter called out weakly, "Where am I? What's going on?"
"See what you did, Newkirk?" Hogan said, looking at him accusatorially.
"Yes, Corporal, you only have yourself to blame, you know," Steiger added, and pulled out his scalpel.
Carter's eyes grew wide as he stared at the surgical instrument that Steiger was holding. "Newkirk, what's happening? Please, help me! Colonel, tell Newkirk to help me…I don't want to die!"
"He can't help you, Carter," Hogan replied sympathetically, "He can't even help himself."
Steiger looked at Newkirk with a satisfied grin plastered across his face. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave…" he stated, his voice trailing off, and then raised his hand.
"Nooooo!" Newkirk cried out as the major's scalpel made contact with Carter's chest.
"Newkirk, wake up! You're having another nightmare!" Carter was shaking him for the second night in a row. "It's okay, it's all right, it's just a dream…c'mon, wake up!"
"No, no, no, no, NOOO!" Newkirk shouted.
"Aw, Newkirk, please, wake up!" Carter pleaded worriedly, "You're okay, you're safe, no one's hurting you, I promise! Wake up!"
Newkirk's eyes popped open at last, and he turned his head to see Carter looking at him with a concerned expression. "Andrew!" He exclaimed, overcome with relief, "You're okay! Oh, Andrew, me mate, I'm so sorry, can you ever forgive me?"
"Sure, Newkirk," Carter replied, and then looked at him curiously, "Forgive you for what?"
"For…wakin' you up again," Newkirk caught himself.
"Oh, that's okay, don't worry about me, it's you I'm worried about, Newkirk. Boy, that dream you were having must have been a doozy; I mean, the way you were yelling and you wouldn't stop, and then you weren't waking up right away...you sure had me scared, you know!"
"It scared me, too, mate," Newkirk admitted, then he reached over and clapped Carter on the shoulder. "Thanks for wakin' me up, Andrew," he said, smiling gratefully at him.
Carter smiled back. "Anytime, buddy," he replied, then asked, "So, what were you dreaming about, anyway?"
Newkirk's smile faded. "Somethin' I'd just as soon forget, if it's all the same to you," he responded quietly, trying desperately to get the last image of that horrible nightmare out of his head. Then, before Carter could ask anymore questions, he said, "Why don't you go on back to sleep now, Andrew, and I'll try to get a bit more, meself."
"Are you sure, Newkirk?" Carter still looked concerned.
"I'm sure," Newkirk renewed his smile and gave Carter's arm a pat. "I'm all right, mate."
"Well, okay," Carter replied, and started to lean down to get back into his bunk. Suddenly he straightened up and looked at the Englishman. "But if you have another nightmare, Newkirk, I promise I'll wake you up again; as fast as I can!"
"You do that, Andrew," Newkirk chuckled, and then lay back on his bunk, while Carter crawled into his own.
Newkirk lay in his bunk staring at the ceiling long after Carter fell back to sleep, still feeling guilty about the mess he'd made for himself over those pills he was taking. He hated deceiving everyone, but he knew that Hogan, and Wilson, would never have let him keep taking them, and they were the only things that made him feel better, the only things that helped him sleep, the only things that chased away the nightmares so he wouldn't have to face Steiger on a nightly basis. That is, until the last couple of nights, anyway. It occurred to him yet again that he was going to have to start taking more of the medicine to help him get through the night, even though he hated the idea; he was smart enough to realize he didn't know what he was doing. But it was either that, or stop taking them and tell Hogan what he'd been doing. But then he'd never get any sleep, would he? He thought about how he'd felt before he started taking the pills, and inwardly shuddered; no, he couldn't go back to that. What bloody choice 'ave I got?
His decision made, he fell into a fitful sleep, waking periodically and then slipping back into unconsciousness until morning, when it was time for roll call. He arose feeling tired and drained, which only added to his determination. Yes, he was going to take extra medicine tonight, no matter the risks.
* * * * * *
"Another nightmare, Newkirk?" Hogan asked him as they settled around the table after roll call. He'd noticed that the corporal looked more tired this morning; tired and something else…something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Yes, sir," Newkirk answered.
"He sure did have one, Colonel!" Carter exclaimed, "And from the sound of it, it was pretty bad."
"Did 'e ask?" Newkirk replied, looking at Carter with irritation.
"Sorry, Newkirk," Carter responded sheepishly, "I was only trying to help."
"Well, it's not like it's a secret, mon ami," LeBeau now piped up, addressing Newkirk, "You woke up the entire barracks…again!"
Newkirk's irritation was growing, along with his anxiety. Not to mention he had a nasty headache this morning. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry for disturbin' you, Louis," he shot back sarcastically, "Maybe I'll start sleepin' in the tunnel from now on, and you can 'ave it all nice and quiet up 'ere…"
"All right," Hogan interrupted, holding up his hand, "That's enough! Newkirk, you're not going to sleep in the tunnel. If it's becoming a problem, you can sleep in my quarters; then the only one you'll be disturbing is me." He then turned his attention to the Frenchman, "LeBeau, you know Newkirk can't help it."
"I know, sir, I'm sorry," LeBeau apologized.
"And Newkirk," Hogan sighed, "Your nightmares do seem to be becoming a problem again…I think I'll have Wilson check you out, like I should have done a week ago."
Newkirk inwardly started to panic. If anyone could tell he'd been taking sleeping pills, it would be the medic. "Colonel, that's not necessary," he said, trying to sound as calm as he could, "I feel fine; just a bit tired. Besides, there's nothin' Wilson can do about my dreams, is there?"
Hogan stared at him for a moment. There it was, again, that look in Newkirk's eyes; there was something…off about him. It wasn't instantly noticeable; in fact, it was more of a subtle thing, almost undetectable, something that no one would catch, unless they knew him very, very well. He opened his mouth, intending to order him to report to Wilson anyway, when, at the last second, changed his mind.
"You're right, Newkirk," he said, "I suppose Wilson can't do anything about your dreams. But if your health starts to suffer, you're going to let the medic look you over, and you're going to do whatever he tells you, got it?"
"Yes, sir," Newkirk complied.
"Breakfast is ready," LeBeau suddenly called out, and began to load the food onto plates, and pass them out. Everyone dug in hungrily.
As they ate, Hogan surreptitiously glanced at Newkirk a few times. He'd decided that he was going to start watching him, very closely, and whatever was really going on with him, whatever he was hiding, he was determined to find out.
* * * * * *
It was midmorning when Kinch climbed up to the barracks from the tunnel below, and headed straight for Hogan's quarters. After a knock on the door and an acknowledgment to enter, he opened the door and stepped inside.
"I got a message from the Sandman, himself, Colonel," Kinch stated.
Hogan was seated at his desk, reading a book. At Kinch's words, he whipped his head up and looked at the sergeant. "You did?" He exclaimed.
"Yes, sir," Kinch replied, "He says he would be happy to meet with you tomorrow night, at 2200 hours, at an abandoned farm about two miles from here. He gave me the directions…" Kinch held out the notebook he had in his hand for Hogan to look at; the directions were scribbled on top.
Hogan studied it briefly. "Yeah, I know where that is," he said, "In fact, we've had meetings there before with some of the Underground members."
"Yes, sir, that's the place," Kinch replied. "And Colonel," he added, "He also wanted me to tell you to bring someone that can open a combination lock."
Hogan's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What for?"
"He said they've got an operative who's going to be infiltrating a high-level meeting tomorrow morning between some of the top brass. The agent's gonna go in and switch briefcases with one of them, and bring the case to the Sandman. He would like you to bring a man that can open it."
Hogan's alarm bells were going off again. "He wants me to bring someone that can open a locked briefcase, does he?" he muttered quietly, and then a bit louder, "Kinch, who do we have in camp that fits that description?"
Kinch looked at Hogan, knowing that the Colonel already knew what he was going to say. "The only one I know of is Newkirk," he replied.
"Yep, Newkirk," Hogan said. "All right, Kinch, tell the Sandman I'll be there, and I'll bring the man for the job."
"Are you sure, Colonel?" Kinch asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Hogan responded.
Kinch looked concerned. "You know, sir, maybe you should let a couple of us tag along, just in case."
Hogan contemplated it for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, Kinch, that won't be necessary. The Sandman's been giving us some pretty sensitive information; I'm sure he's on the level. Besides, maybe now I can find out why all the missions we get from him end up including Newkirk."
"Yes, sir," Kinch replied, although he still felt uneasy about the whole thing.
"Okay, you let the Sandman know, and I'll talk to Newkirk."
"Right away, Colonel," Kinch said, and headed out of Hogan's quarters.
* * * * * *
Hogan found Newkirk soon after his conversation with Kinch, and filled him in on their mission for the following evening. As he talked to him, he scrutinized the corporal as much as he was able to without causing suspicion, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, apart from him looking tired. Well, maybe after their meeting with the mysterious Sandman, he could contact the Underground, and tell them they'd have to cut back on the jobs that required lock-picking and safe-cracking. Newkirk needed a break, and he was determined to give him one.
Later that afternoon, when most of the men were either off taking care of various jobs that needed to be done around the camp, or outside playing volleyball, Newkirk wandered into the barracks and took a quick look around. After making sure no one was there, he went over to his footlocker and, crouching down, opened it, removing the small box inside. He opened the box, took out one of the pills, and, after replacing the lid, set the pill on top of it. Then he reached up behind his neck, and pulled out his pencil sharpener. With a steady hand, he carefully quartered the pill, and then pulled the lid up and tilted it slightly, letting the pieces slide down into the box. Then he once again replaced the lid, returned his pencil sharpener to its usual spot, put the box back in his locker, and closed and locked it. He stood up and, with one more quick glance around the room, headed outside. Tonight, at least, he was going to get some sleep, which should make him much more ready to face their mission the following night.
