Who's Josh? And Salisbury? And Cavendish?... Is this a German uniform? How did I get here? Where's here? Who's Humpty Dumpty?

Newkirk's head hurt. Daylight was coming down fast and he knew there were things to do before that. Names and faces hovered in his head for a moment until they were properly connected. He breathed with relief. He finally came back to reality.

He had been playing cards with some guards at the mess hall. He made friends. He got cigarettes. He was Newkirk, currently struggling to keep what was left of his sanity. Josh was the Indian boy in Cell 2. He had to save Josh...

Next step was unlocking the door and then, entering the cell. Josh was sitting on the chair carving some words on the wall.

"Got inspired by the decoration on me room?" Newkirk said putting a backpack he was carrying on the floor.

Josh turned to see Newkirk's sleepy eyes examining the work on the wall. He was short breathed and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Josh's serene expression changed into one of surprise. "But what happened? You look like hell."

"That's been properly established already, thank you very much." He went to sit on the bed. "What are you writing over there?" He leaned forward to read.

"Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth,

Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself,

Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here,

Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.

Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you." (*)

"You're a poet now?"

"It occurred to me that someone else will get this cell after I'm gone." Josh said. "It's a prayer my grandmother taught my brothers and me when we were little. She was Pueblo."

"Is that a tribe?" Newkirk saw the young man's wary look and smiled. "Come on, mate. I'm putting me life on the line for yours. Couldn't we at least be civilized?"

Josh stared at him for a moment and shrugged. He straightened up and offered him his hand. "Josh Goddard, Private. Comanche on my father's side, Pueblo on my mother's."

"Hello, Josh." Newkirk shook his hand. "I'm Peter Newkirk, Corporal. Welsh on my dearest mother's side, Londoner on the other side that's not my mum's." He grinned.

"What's in that backpack? Were you shopping? Where did that coat come from?"

"Souvenirs, just souvenirs." Newkirk opened the bag and took out a deck of cards, several packs of cigarettes, one bottle of wine and chocolate bars.

"Where did you get that? Did you steal it?" Josh looked rather impressed.

"Won it in a poker game." Newkirk grinned. He stood up and emptied the pockets of his coat on the table. "This, I collected." He counted three ID cards, some money, stationary paper and one pen.

"Those didn't come from a poker game," Josh examined the ID cards. "Don't you think that the owners will notice these are missing?"

"Actually, I took the ones that were misplaced. That means Hans, Dieter and Fritz are rather disorganized. They'll have themselves to blame for losing their belongings, don't you think?" Newkirk flipped a coin in the air. "They probably haven't noticed their ID cards are missing."

"Is that a silver dollar?" Josh chuckled. "You're a thief, Peter Newkirk!"

"Why not, I just pick up what is left behind." He grinned and took off the coat. "By the way, have this, it's going to be very cold tonight."

"Wow, they didn't notice you took this either?"

"Oh, please. You make it look as some cheap trick. It's an art, laddie. You just free people from things they're not using... much."

Josh smiled and shook his head. He did not know how things would develop but at least, he was having a good time all the way. Then, a thought crossed his mind.

"It's getting late, don't you need time to memorize my message?"

Newkirk stepped back. "No. No, I don't want to hear a word of it. If it enters in me head, it'll stay there forever. You'll tell it to your mates tonight when you get to me headquarters."

"What are you saying? You're taking me with you, then?"

"I'm sending you ahead, actually." Newkirk began to unbutton his jacket. "We'll exchange uniforms, all right?

"Are you sure? I told you, I'm ready to-"

"Stop saying that, would you? Blimey! No one is dying on me watch! You'll bloody do what I say, Hamish!" He stopped and exhaled. "Josh... Sorry... Josh." He took his shirt off and handed it to the boy. "Just put this on and give me that ruddy jumpsuit. This had better work."

Josh did as he told him. He took the uniform and started putting on. "I'm sorry I've been so difficult. It's my first time as a POW."

"It's all right being scared, Josh..." Newkirk mumbled. "It keeps you alive." Words of comfort never came easy. Carter, Kinch and LeBeau were better at it than him. He had always envied their skills with youngsters.

"So, do you have a plan?" Josh asked. "What is it exactly?"

"It's still on blueprints. You just need to know that when I say the word, you'll run for your life. Literally."

"That will be easy. I was in the long-distance running team back in High School."

"How fast were you?" Newkirk asked. He finished putting on the jumpsuit.

"My father called me Antelope." Josh smiled.

"It's that your Indian name, then?" Newkirk allowed himself to smile.

"Do you find it funny?" Josh turned to look at him.

"Oh, no. I just remember one friend with an Indian name on his own." Newkirk sat at the table. "Little Deer Who Goes Swift And Sure Through Forest."

Josh smiled. "That's neat. Don't you want an Indian name too? I think you deserve one. You have a lot of courage for doing what you do." He put on the jacket of the German uniform. The sleeves barely reached his wrists.

"Boys grow too fast these days, don't they." Newkirk shook his head. "The boots will hide the length of the pants and it's dark outside. No one will notice." He patted the boy on the shoulder. "Just don't fold your arms."

"I just hope not to trip on the boots. They're too small. Are you going to explain me your plan?" Josh shifted on his feet. Wearing that uniform made him uncomfortable. "If I get caught on this, they'll shoot me."

"No worries, lad. They won't know you're gone after it's too late. Keep the collar of your coat up to your nose." He rubbed his hands. "Keep an eye on me and wait till I give you the sign. Then you walk towards the main door and don't look back. Once you're out of sight, run." He reached inside the backpack. "I almost forgot." He tossed him a compass. "Can you read this thing? Go north west until you see one car at one side of the road."

"I don't speak German. What if someone talks to me?"

"You just say Jah to everything they say and walk away."

"Do I need a password for the contacts on the road?"

"Later." He sat at the table. "Now I need to prepare this for a friend. Sit down and count the nails on the ceiling."

The Englishman took the ID cards and erased some words with water. He wrote something else and blew to dry out the paper. After he finished, he wrote the password and passed it to Josh.

"Read it, memorize it and eat it." He grinned at the youngster's look of surprise. "Just destroy it."

Josh laughed at the password. "Now I feel like John Gielgud in Secret Agent. It's okay shooting at spies, you know?"

"You've seen too many movies." Newkirk joked.

Then, he put the backpack under the covers in the bed. "It's a rough sketch of you sleeping, but it might work if they don't look too close." He caught Josh's stare of disbelief. "Relax, laddie, by this time tomorrow, you'll be in London." He went to the door and turned to see him one last time. "Wait five minutes and come to the yard. Stay close to the main building and try to look... invisible."

"Hokahey, Newkirk!"

"What does that mean?"

Josh grinned and tilted his head. "It's a Lakota war cry, it means Let's do it!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Don't forget to lock the door when you come out."

ooOoo

"Three ID cards, that's all I could get. I wish I could've got more but time is pressing." Newkirk said.

"This is more than I asked you for." Cavendish smiled. "We'll give these the best use we can."

"If you find contacts in town, you'll know where to ask for us. Just give us a ring, so to speak, and we'll get you out of this hole." Newkirk turned to Salisbury. "That's real Earl Grey tea, keep it safe."

"I'll defend it with me life, lad." The lieutenant held the small box close to his nose and sniffed.

"Now, to our business." Cavendish opened the door for Newkirk to see outside. "We've prepared a small football match as a distraction. Five of Salisbury's men against five of mine. Hopefully, it will be enough."

"It'll have to work. We'll make it work." Newkirk nodded.

Salisbury came to shake his hand. "Good luck, me friend. You'll have to invite us to a drink in London after the war and tell us all about it."

"Actually, I know a nice pub called The Red Lion. We'll meet there right after this ruddy mess is over," Newkirk saluted the officers.

Cavendish opened one bottle of wine that Newkirk had gotten for them. He filled out the mugs and they made a toast. "To the King," he said.

"To the King," Newkirk repeated.

TBC

* A Pueblo Indian prayer