"There were civilians. I couldn't think of another way to let them go. The guards knew them, seen me." Newkirk sighed. "Sorry, gov'nor."
"Newkirk, I'm..."
"Don't you dare say you're sorry." Newkirk stared at Hogan. "I'm a volunteer! An' these people needed to be set free."
"I'm sorry I couldn't get you sooner, that I couldn't help."
Newkirk's eyes widened. "Couldn't help? Blimey, gov, how do you think I did this? You showed me how. I wouldn't 'ave gotten as far as I did without you. I kept thinking about how you would 'andle this. I'm sorry this mess occurred."
"Why didn't you go to London?'
Newkirk jerked. "Had to get the word to you! And the other men had to go somewhere, mate. I didn't expect Helder to be 'ere, at least not already."
"So you came back thinking you were going to die?"
Newkirk smiled slightly. "Like I said, I 'ad a good run." He smiled wider. "It's been a honor, sir."
"It isn't over yet." Hogan battled his emotions, exhaled deeply. Newkirk moved and winced. Hogan grabbed his arm. "Why don't you get some sleep?"
Newkirk nodded. Hogan followed him to the cooler, ready to grab him in case he fell. Newkirk moved in a determined, stiff manner. "I'm not a bloomin' invalid, gov'nor."
"Go to sleep, Newkirk. By the way, I know what you're doing. I'm grateful but stop trying to protect everyone. That's my job, remember?"
Newkirk watched Wren and Hogan leave. And who protects you, gov'nor? That's my job. I just wish you could pull another rabbit out of your 'at and save me. But if my dying saves you, the others, and the operation, I'll die with only one regret, that I won't be there to watch your back anymore.
Wilson squeezed Carter's shoulder. "Carter, he was in a jam. He did what he had to do."
"And why is he so willing to giving up?" Carter asked. "He just doesn't care!"
"Andrew, he wants everyone to be protected." Wilson rubbed his eyes. "And he's been through hell." Carter shrugged. Wilson sighed and pulled an envelope from his pocket. "Here. Newkirk told me to give you this if he was taken by Helder. Do NOT ever tell him I gave this to you."
Andrew opened the letter.
Dear Andrew,
If you got this, it means Helder won. Don't you worry about old Peter. I'll be all right, no matter where I end up. You keep blowing stuff up and following the gov'nor.
I'm going to miss you, Andrew. We had some bloody good times and that's what I want you to remember. Not the fights, not the blood, but the way the moon sparkles on the snow, and that deer we almost fell over. Or the way fireworks light the sky. I may have given you guff but you're the best at what you do.
Trust those instincts, Andrew. You've a good heart and that's bloody rare in this world. I know you'll miss me and that touches me more than I ever let on. After all, who else is going to miss me other than my mates? Finish this war and go home, Andrew. Find yourself a bird that loves you like you love her and show other people how bright the world can really be.
I got some requests for you. First, keep up with those crazy ideas. You're like the gov'nor, you think up schemes that may seem insane but could actually work. Don't give up on that. Second and most important, trust yourself. You think too little of yourself. You're bloody good, Andrew. Don't let anyone tell you different, not even me. You're steady, good hearted, and play a vital role on this team. Your sunniness may have made me groan outside but always made me smile inside. And the others need that just as much as I did. Keep it up.
I'm not good at emotion, Andrew, never have been. I never had a little brother until I met you. I couldn't have asked for a better one. Keep your chin up and think of me once in a while.
Your brother,
Peter
LeBeau watched Carter blink and fold a letter carefully. "I'm going to the tunnels," Carter said.
"Are you all right?" LeBeau asked.
"Sure, LeBeau, I just have to be alone a second." He hurried off and LeBeau looked at Wilson.
"What is wrong with Andre?" Wilson squirmed.
"Newkirk wrote him a letter," Wilson replied. "Just in case."
LeBeau's face fell. "Pierre wrote Andre a letter?"
Wilson groaned and handed LeBeau a letter. His face lit and he scurried to his bunk. Wilson shook his head and went to find Kinch and Hogan.
Dear Louis,
See, I can get your ruddy name right! If Wilson gave you this, you probably watched Helder or the Gestapo drag me off. Control yourself, little mate. I volunteered for this, remember? I always wondered how I'd go and you know, this wasn't the worst.
I know you probably think I'm an idiot and you and I have had our shares of blow ups. But we always knew we were mates, ruddy good ones at that. Sometimes it was nice to talk to another European amidst all these Yanks. I shared things with you I never shared with anyone else. You and I were mates long before the others came, because we were first here. You helped me survive, Louie, and if I never thanked you before, I'm thanking you now.
I'm no good at this emotion, feeling stuff. You're so passionate about France and all you believe in. Never lose that, mate. Never. You and all those like you will take back your country and when this bleeding war ends, you'll need that energy to rebuild France. You can do it, Louie. I know you can.
I have a few requests for you. First, watch out for the team, ok? I won't be there to poke holes in crazy ideas and someone needs to think rationally around here. Second, take a breath now and then and take a step back if you have to. You're too much like me sometimes, ready to rush in and not look around. I'm not asking you to change, just pause a moment or two. Third, when this war is over, visit jolly old England for me and lift a pint in my name. Then go home and build yourself a life just as if the bleedin' Krauts never touched France. Hug your family close.
You used to ask a little about my family. I never had much, only my two sisters and a brother I haven't seen in years. Who thought I'd find my one of my closest brothers in a POW camp? And a Frenchie to boot? You take care of yourself, mon frere, and when you're cuddling some sweet mademoiselle, give her a kiss for me.
Your best mate and brother,
Peter (or Pierre if you want)
LeBeau ran his fingers over the letter. You may not be very good at emotion but you did very well, indeed, Pierre. And Helder wouldn't get his hands on you. We are going to save you.
Wilson walked through the table and handed Kinch an envelope. "What's this?" Kinch asked.
"Just don't tell Newkirk," Wilson snorted. "Where's Colonel Hogan?"
"Here," Hogan said. He looked weary. Wilson handed him a letter. "Now what?"
"Just read. Carter and LeBeau have theirs."
Kinch opened the letter.
Dear James,
Funny how we don't use your first name. Not that we use first names much at all. And that's all right. Since you got this, you've watched or know Helder took me away and I'm not coming back. You've taken it with your usual calm while inside you're angrier than Hell. I always envied you that calm.
Me and you--people thought we were way too different to ever be friends. They're wrong. You're a damn fine mate and I could only wish to be more like you. Where I ran my mouth without thinking, you always listened and planned. You have the rotten job of waiting here and controlling us when the gov'nor is gone. If no one ever says so, thanks for that. It's a job I wouldn't wish on the Krauts, much less a friend like you.
I'm ruddy horrible at this sharing stuff. Sure I talk a lot but I don't say much. Me mum used to say I chattered like a squirrel. Your serenity, your sense of humor--I'm going to miss that. Hang on to them. And maybe let yourself go a little. Have some fun once in a while, Kinch. Play cards with Schultz, tease Andrew a bit. This war can't last forever. Horse around a little. I know you can smile, mate, just do it more often.
I have a few favours to ask. You and gov'nor work wonders together and you're his right hand man. Here's where I'm asking you the hard part, mate. I'm not there anymore. So be his left hand man, too, Kinch. Dare him. Challenge him so he can keep thinking up those great, wild ideas. You've always listen to the gov. Keep doing that but shake him up now and then. I'm not asking you to switch, not really. Just expand a little. Play you're me, once in a while. Second, keep believing. This team pulls off miracles daily and you're vital to that. Andrew may be clumsy and Louis a hothead but they'll give you everything and then some. Just like you. You're our ruddy brother whether you like it or not, so after the war, don't forget about us.
Last, go play ball once in a while. I know you like it. Drag the ruddy Colonel to his drums, Andrew to some fireworks or a petting zoo, and Louis to a French movie. And you hit a ball. Finish the war and teach your kids to play catch. My own older brother I haven't seen in years. I'm glad to find one in you. Take care, Kinch.
Your brother,
Peter
Hogan sat on his bunk, head aching. One of his men, tortured, abused, and not even for information. Just for the power pleasure of a sadistic bastard. He opened his letter
Dear Rob,
Ha! Knew that'd get your attention, gov'nor! If you have this, well, knowing you, you've watched me disappear with Helder, and now you're hiding in your quarters, blaming yourself and wondering what you did wrong. Ease your mind, mate. There's NOTHING you could have done. I chose this path, gov'nor, and I'm going willingly.
Well, maybe not willingly but without regrets.
I don't know how to tell you all you should know. Gov'nor, I trust you with my life and you haven't ever given me cause to doubt that. You and I clashed a lot and I know you had to wonder if it was worth it, especially in the beginning. I never meant disrespect, gov'nor, just--well, someone has to challenge you, mate, and no one else stepped up to the plate. So that meant me and admit it, it suited me. You're the only officer I follow because I want to. I'm rotten with telling you things, feeling wise and all that. You know that because you're just about as bad. Just so you know, challenge Hell itself and I'll be there beside you.
Gov'nor, you've always had faith in us. Keep that. Keep yourself believing because you're fighting the good fight and it is going to end. You have a rotten job and you do what no one else can come close to. I know you hated being grounded. Selfishly, I'm ruddy glad you got shot down. War wouldn't be the same without you.
Just a few things, Colonel. First, become a little selfish. I know, I know, you think of us. But remember, we're not just doing this for country and the good fight. We do this because of you. You're the one who's done all the hard work and you are not replaceable. So have a little fun. Watch out for yourself as well as the others. You're needed, mate, and without someone to watch your back, you're vulnerable. Even leaders need a break now and then.
Second, stop blaming yourself. Everyone makes mistakes and you're allowed, gov'nor. You can't be perfect, no one can. So when plans twist in on themselves, just realize that's because they do. It's not your fault. Don't hold stuff against yourself that you would forgive us for. And I know officers are told to never relax with their men, to keep that "command distance". I hereby give you permission, mate. It's all right to be human, to simply be with your family here. No one will respect you less. You're my brother, gov'nor. Don't forget that. So if you really want to remember me, play the ruddy drums for me once in a while.
You've always been the one with the faith. I never could wrap my mind or heart around all that religious natter and I envied your peace with that. But if there is another side, if I get a choice, I'll always be there, covering your back. So keep believing, gov'nor. When this war is over, go home and live. And when you see the stars, think of me now and then.
Your brother and all around scoundrel and mate,
Peter
Hogan read the letter three times before carefully tucking it into his Bible, the one his mother had given him. While hardly religious, he found peace in the familiar words. He looked at the clock. 1200 hours. He quietly opened the door. In the dark barracks, he saw LeBeau tending the stove and making a pot of coffee. He looked around. "Where are Carter and Kinch?" he whispered.
"Tunnel," LeBeau replied softly.
Hogan
went to the bunk and LeBeau followed him with coffee and a basket.
They went into the tunnel and Carter appeared. "Colonel, we can't
let Newkirk die."
"We're not going to."
LeBeau grinned. "Good," he exclaimed.
"I'm in," Kinch said, coming in. He looked in the basket. "Rolls?"
"Oui. I was bored."
"So let's figure out some plans," Hogan said, snagging a roll.
As they talked, LeBeau said "I'm actually surprised Pierre is so ready to give up. He never stops fighting."
"The Gestapo does that," Hogan grimly said. "Helder's not getting him again."
The group fell silent. "Is he going to be all right?" Carter asked quietly.
Hogan looked at his men. Challenge Hell itself and I'll be there beside you. "Yes," Hogan promised. "He needs us but he'll be fine."
Carter beamed.
"Achtung!"
Newkirk groaned as the Gestapo guard rattled the bars. "Sod off, Fritzie."
"Achtung, swinehund!" Newkirk jerked as the guard began opening the door.
"Ruddy 'ell." Newkirk winced as he sat up.
"Nein!"
came a yell. "The Englander is to be left alone!" Schultz
stomped into view. As he and the Gestapo guard argued, Newkirk sat
up and stretched. His back blazed to life and he reached for his
pain pills. The Gestapo guard left and Schultz looked at Newkirk.
"I have breakfast, Newkirk."
"No thanks, Schultz. You can
have it."
"Colonel Hogan said you had to eat and LeBeau made me swear to watch. It's strudel, Newkirk."
Newkirk reached for the plate. He picked at the food and rolled his eyes. A small note rested on the plate which simply read Eat, mon ami. He picked up his fork and began eating. As he ate, he swallowed a painkiller and looked at Schultz. "Have another notebook, Schultz? I'm bored."
Schultz handed him a notebook. Newkirk began sketching lazily, taking it slow and easy. As he'd sketched Meinstag already, he simply drew for the pleasure of it. Schultz occasionally popped by and Newkirk waved now and then. He rarely drew, didn't consider it art, just scribbles. As he sketched, Schultz brought his lunch. "Come, Newkirk," Schultz ordered. Newkirk came to the door and took the tray. "Can I see?" Schultz asked.
Newkirk shrugged. "Knock yourself out. I'm a bit knackered anyway."
In the barracks, LeBeau peeled potatoes while Carter assisted. Hogan stepped into the barracks, shaking snow off his shoulders. "Kinch down below?"
"Oui, mon Colonel."
"Carter, Gestapo truck rigged?"
"You betcha, boy! Er, sir."
"Olson and Baker ready just in case?"
"Yes," LeBeau replied. The bunk lifted and Kinch stepped up from the tunnel. He banged on the bunk and the bed fell back down.
"Underground contacted us. Tiger has the penicillin, Colonel. Said she will be here tonight."
"That's fine."
"Schultz is coming," Carter said as he heard footsteps. Hogan turned as Schultz came into the barracks.
"Brrr! The cooler is warmer," Schultz complained, standing near the stove. He absently handed his rifle to LeBeau and rubbed his hands together.
"How's Newkirk?" Carter eagerly asked.
"The Englander spends his time scribbling. See?"
Hogan flipped through the notebook. "Newkirk did this?" he blurted. A delicate fawn stood under a flowering tree, a cart horse clopped past Stalag 13, the team played cards with Hogan leaning back in his chair. There was Lewis Carroll's White Rabbit studying his watch and a clever little mouse watching LeBeau cook. LeBeau looked over and grinned.
"It's Carter's mouse," he said.
"Felix?"
Carter looked at the picture. "Hey, that's really good! And he's got everyone playing cards."
"I didn't know Newkirk could draw," Kinch said.
"He does not like to let people know," LeBeau remarked, handing Schultz a mug of coffee. "He did it a bit when we were first here."
"Danke,
cockroach. I like the rabbit in clothes." He drank his coffee
slowly, savoring each swallow.
"The White Rabbit from Alice in
Wonderland," Hogan commented.
"My kinder would like that. I better go before the big shot finds me here." He looked around and Carter handed him his rifle. "Danke." Then he retrieved the notebook and left.
Hogan watched him leave. "Why doesn't Newkirk like anyone to know?"
LeBeau shrugged. "He calls them scribbles. I'm surprised he let Schultz see them. Don't let him know you saw them."
Hogan retrieved the Meinstag notebook and sat down, flipping through it. "He's drawn great pictures."
"Why isn't he drawing our maps?" Carter asked incredulously.
"Cartography isn't art, Carter. What he could be doing is sketching layouts and weapons," Hogan said.
"That's why we take photos, Colonel," Kinch said.
"But this could come in useful." Hogan winced at a depiction of a skull, carefully labeled. Black lines consolidated into a sketch of a bare ballroom, a gaping hole indicating a passageway. A long whip hung neatly coiled on the wall. "Carter, get Wilson."
"Yes, sir."
"Problems, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.
"Just confirming a theory."
Wilson came into the barracks. "Colonel?"
"Those marks on Newkirk's back," Hogan mused. "It was a whip, right?"
Wilson nodded. "I'm pretty sure. I haven't seen such marks before."
"They'll heal, right?" Carter asked, coming in behind him.
"They'll scar but yeah, they'll heal."
LeBeau muttered something in French. Hogan eyed him. "Don't worry, LeBeau. Helder is going to pay." He felt a wave of fury begin filling him. You tortured my man for nothing. Just to prove you can, to break him. Well, Major, paybacks are Hell. He turned to Wilson. "The other men?"
"A few broken bones, lots of bruising, a couple concussions, but no one as bad as Newkirk."
"No one else has Newkirk's mouth," Kinch murmured, eyes glinting with humor and affection. Wilson grinned.
"That's our Newkirk." He looked at Hogan. "We are going to rescue him despite himself, right?"
"Yes," Hogan replied. "Where else will we find a thief-safecracker-forger-tailor-artist?"
Everyone smiled.
