Note from the Author: HELLO! So it's been what, two years? Three? Going on four? Geeze, guys, I'm so sorry. It's been a rough patch of life on my end, but I promised I would finish the job so here I am. I always keep my promises. 3 This chapter, and one more, and the tale of Major Jamie Stewart will come to a close...hopefully satisfactorily for everyone. Love you guys! Anyone who cared enough to come back to this story deserves a HEAPING helping of icecream, cookies, and chocolate-peppermint cake!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the world record in hiatus lengths... :P
Behind the Iron Beasts
Chapter 12
Jamie held the fragile creature close against him, and paused for a moment outside of the Commandant's office, attempting to nestle her into the front of his frayed, mud-encrusted shirt. Her skin against his was cold, but he noted with satisfaction that her tiny body stopped shivering when placed against his chest.
"There now, hush little Tirza. You must let me talk us out of this one, whatever it might be."
He had to step back quickly as two higher-ranking officers burst out of the office down the wooden steps into the mud, anger flashing in their eyes. Without thinking he planted a quick little kiss on top of the soiled head of his baby and took the plunge, taking the three steps up to the doorway in a stride. The Commandant looked up sharply. Jamie could tell immediately something was wrong; the German held a gun in his hand.
"Sir. I was told to report to you."
The Commandant looked him up and down, almost wildly, considering something it would seem. He strode to the cut-out window and looked at the sky to the south, as if expecting to see the glow and flash of mortar fire at any moment.
"Yes. You were. Half of this camp is going to die, Major. The question is, will it be the prisoners or the soldiers?" He didn't look at Jamie as he talked, his voice sounding distant as if not entirely speaking to him.
"You mean invasion. A liberation force is coming, isn't it? That's the gunfire. The reason for lockdown."
The Commandant met his eyes.
"Yes. They will be here in an hour, maybe two. They broke through the lines, your countrymen have taken the towns between here and the beaches...and now it falls to me to decide who will die first; the prisoners, or my men."
Jamie realized suddenly with a chill that the Commandant's gaze did not promise him safety. Did not offer reassurance. Perhaps when it came down to it, his loyalty was to his cause more than to his humanity after all. Jamie must tread carefully. He was considering what was his best option to say when a wave of weariness had him swaying dangerously. He caught himself against the desk, keeping the babe clutched close to him with his other arm.
The Commandant's face softened, the recognition came back to his eyes.
"Sit. I called you because I wanted to ask your advice. You are a man of honor; we are much the same. But perhaps you are a better man than I. Sit."
"I will try my best to help, sir." The relief in his chest made him weak.
Jamie gratefully sank onto the plain wooden straight-back chair indicated. His body immediately protested with flaring pain it was finally being allowed to feel after the interminable stretch of numbing labor. His white, drawn face must have given him away, for the Commandant poured a glass of dark spirits and slid it across the desk to him without a word. Jamie took it, hand trembling with exhaustion, and took a small sip, savoring the burning warmth as it went down into his belly. The Commandant noticed the dirty bulge in Jamie's shirt move, and his eyes narrowed as he sat across the desk.
"What is that?" he asked sharply. At that moment Tirza's thin, reedy mewl broke the otherwise heavy silence in the room. Jamie slowly opened his shirt just enough to show her tiny face as she fitfully searched for food. She hadn't had any sustenance yet in her short life and her movements were becoming weak and nearly frantic. The Commandant paled and something darkened behind his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, all air leaving his body in a rush. He sat in silence before he muttered an expletive under his breath in his own language.
"You know the dilemma I wished to discuss, don't you Major?"
"I guess that it has something to do with executing all the prisoners before help arrives, sir."
"Those are my standing orders. Kill a prisoner rather than allow escape. Even if that requires killing all of them to prevent their release. My men are ready to do just that."
Jamie was silent for a moment but the Commandant did not continue.
"You are not ready, though?" Jamie prompted, quietly. The Commandant looked up from his own glass which he'd been staring into. He sighed.
"I believe there is no practical use. I would kill the prisoners and carry out my orders, but such would only enrage your comrades and we would be lined up and shot when they arrive, in the same firing-lines the prisoners would have died on minutes before. All of my men, all of the inmates, dead. For what purpose?"
"And your alternative is to allow the prisoners to live and attempt to bargain?"
The Commandant nodded.
"It is mutiny, that course of action. My men are ready to shoot me for considering it. But truly...during war, what man truly has loyalty? How can a man know that any cause is right, more than what seems right in the moment?"
Jamie looked at him. "Sir, I do not believe that attempting to save as many lives as possible by your actions is a lack of loyalty. Save the prisoners. Use the papers you have about me; use me and the others as a demonstration of cooperation. I will speak for you; get you safe passage to England. You'll be tried fairly, and any of your men that cooperate...no cold-blooded executions."
The Commandant chuckled bitterly as the sound of the guns grew nearer outside.
"Not until they see and hear what we have done. There is darkness in your countrymen as well, Major Stewart."
"There is in all men," Jamie answered, not missing a beat. "In every single one. But there's a spot of light, too. And that's the spot we try to own. You will be safe, you have my word. That is not why you will make this decision though."
The Commandant looked up at him.
"Is it not? You do not believe I am a coward who seeks only his own life and throws all orders and responsibility to the wind?"
Jamie shook his head, solemnly.
"No. I believe you're a good man on the wrong side. I have seen it. And it's your chance to do something about that."
The artillery nearby clouded the new sunrise with smoke and dust. The sound of rounds ripped the air with the peculiar tearing of atmosphere more easily heard at a distance. And now there was the unmistakeable rumbling clank of tank treads. Machine-gun fire erupted from the walls of the camp.
Note: Ooooookayyyy...so what's the Commandant's call? And what is in his near future? Comments make my day, and make it a lot more likely I'll post sooner now that I'm back online. ;) Thank you SOOO much for all the comments you've left in the hiatus! I'm back. Hopefully more steadily now. And MERRY CHRISTMAS SEASON to you all!