CHAPTER FOURTEEN –

Newkirk woke up with a start the next morning. He had thought that maybe he would've had a dreamless sleep that night, after agreeing to talk to Colonel Hogan. After all, he had felt very relieved after finally agreeing to get help. But apparently that wasn't enough to get rid of the nightmares.

On top of that, his head was pounding. Luckily, Newkirk never got bad hangovers, and knew the mild symptoms would pass shortly.

Newkirk poked at his food during breakfast. He told himself to eat at least a few spoonfuls of porridge. He wasn't doing himself any favours by not eating, no matter how sick it made him feel.

"Newkirk, do you want to play soccer with us later?" Carter asked. He was smiling at his new friend from across the table, speaking with his usual fervour.

"Okay." Newkirk agreed. He was tired, but also sick of sitting around.

"Let's talk to Sgt. Wilson first." Hogan said. "We need to make sure you're strong enough to be running around."

Newkirk motioned to his bowl.

"I ate."

"I saw."

"I'm feeling much better."

"Yeah, well, we're still going to talk with Wilson first." Hogan said, ending the conversation by focussing once more on his goopy breakfast.

So talk to Wilson they did.

"You're looking a bit better today." Wilson told Newkirk, after having checked him over. The three men were back in Hogan's office. "How do you feel?"

"Better." He replied.

"How did you sleep last night. Alright?" Wilson inquired.

Newkirk half shrugged.

"What does that mean?" Wilson prodded.

"I slept…but it wasn't an easy sleep, if you know what I mean." Newkirk said.

"Why don't you tell us about it?" Wilson suggested.

Newkirk glanced at the floor.

This whole thing was utterly mortifying. He felt so uncomfortable talking about his nightmares, as if he were a frightened little kid again. This was a prison camp, not a nursery.

Everything just felt too awkward.

"There's nothing to tell." Newkirk responded, fidgeting.

Hogan frowned.

"If that's all Wilson…" He began.

"Yes sir. Everything looks alright. Take it easy though, Newkirk." Wilson stood and started for the door.

"Oh, Sarge, can I play football later on with my mates?" Newkirk called out. "I won't over do it, I promise."

"I don't know…" Wilson started. Then he decided that it would be good for Newkirk to get some fresh air, and spend time with his friends. After all, as long as it wasn't 'American football', there wouldn't be any tackling. He smiled at the Englander.

"I guess that would be okay. But I'm going to watch from the sidelines, and if things get too rough, I'm pulling you out of the game, got it?"

"Got it." Newkirk said, returning the smile gratefully.

"Thanks, Wilson." Hogan said.

When Wilson was gone, Hogan faced Newkirk once more. The RAF pilot was standing, putting on his jacket.

"Don't go just yet, Newkirk." The Colonel said.

"But sir, what about the football game? Wilson said I could play!"

"Carter said they were going to play in fifteen minutes' time." Hogan said, looking briefly at his watch. "That gives us just enough time to have a bit of a chat."

Newkirk's face fell. He was rather hoping he could put it off for a while. But he had promised the Colonel he would talk to him today. He sat back down.

"Okay." Newkirk resigned.

"Let's start with your sleeping trouble." Hogan suggested. "You've been having nightmares, haven't you?"

"Yeah. They're really vivid, like it's real life."

"What are they about?"

"They're different every time." Newkirk explained. "But they all have a recurring theme."

"The Hitler youth?" Hogan guessed.

"You got it." Newkirk answered, sombrely. "I kill him over and over again. Whenever I close my eyes, I see his face. For a few nights there, I did whatever I could to keep myself from falling asleep. But I always fell asleep, and always had those bloody dreams."

"That sounds tough." Hogan said sympathetically. "I don't blame you for not wanting to sleep."

"Yeah. And then I wake up all upset and annoyed, and I don't want to talk to anybody or see anybody, but this is a ruddy prison camp! There's no place where a guy can just go to be alone!"

"No, you're right there. Well, I guess there's always the cooler! Lord knows you can get yourself sent there whenever you feel like it!" Hogan quipped.

Newkirk laughed. "I don't think I wanna be alone that badly."

The two sat in silence for a moment, neither man sure of what to say next.

"Anyway, I don't really see how I can make them, the dreams, go away." Newkirk finally said. "Will that do for today, sir? The game's going to start soon." He got up off the bed.

"Sure, Newkirk. Do you feel better for talking about it?" Hogan asked.

"Maybe. A little." Newkirk said, nodding slightly. He headed toward the door.

"Wait, don't go yet." Hogan told.

Newkirk stopped, and looked back impatiently. He didn't want to talk anymore, he wanted to play football with his friends.

"Don't look at me like that," Hogan said with a smirk. "I was just going to ask you to wait while I put my boots on. I'm playing goaltender, and I can't play in dress shoes!"

Newkirk smiled. He certainly didn't mind waiting for that reason. Especially if the Colonel was going to be on his team. Hogan rarely had time to play with the men, but he was a great netminder. However Newkirk would never let the Colonel know that!

"Which team did you plan on 'gracing' with your presence this afternoon, Colonel?" Newkirk teased.

"Well for that snide remark, Corporal, I think I'll pick whatever team you're playing against!" Colonel Hogan answered in mock indignation as he finished tying up his boots.

"Fine by me, sir." Newkirk grinned. "I've got someone better!"

"Everyone knows I'm the best goaltender in camp, Newkirk!" Hogan said, feigning arrogance. "Just who did you have in mind?"

"Sergeant Schultz, of course! He doesn't have to do anything but stand there!" Newkirk replied.

"I protest!" Hogan told him. "There must be something in the rules about having goalies who are bigger than the nets themselves!"

Newkirk laughed.

"We're going to be late, Colonel!" He said. They started to make their way to the court yard.

Hogan smiled to himself. Newkirk seemed less laden than he had before their conversation. There was something in his eyes that showed relief. And although he hadn't really gone into much detail about these nightmares, Hogan knew that he and Wilson had been right all along. Talking about it was really going to help Newkirk to move on.

"Sir! They're picking sides!" Newkirk called a few metres away from the make-shift soccer field, urging his CO to hurry up. Hogan picked up his pace and joined his men just as Olsen and Kinch, the team captains, began to sift their way through the players.

Just before the game started, Hogan caught sight of Wilson, who was watching from the sidelines as promised. The Colonel threw him a nod and a confident smile, letting him know that he'd spoken to Cpl. Newkirk.

Wilson smiled back. It was fine with him if Newkirk only felt comfortable talking with Hogan, as long as Hogan continued to refer to him for any problems that arose, and took his advice on how to handle Newkirk's case.

Wilson saw no reason to pull Newkirk from the game that then took place. Everyone knew that Newkirk was in no condition to play rough, and gave him plenty of room.

Hogan suspected that the others may have even been going easy on him, letting him get the ball and so on, just to improve his morale a little.

If Newkirk had known, he would, of course, be bothered by this. But as it was, he was feeling pretty good about his game, and about himself, and his mind seemed far away from the woods where he had shot that boy.

And playing had obviously helped him to work up an appetite. At lunch time, he ate more than half of his food, while all the while joking with his friends about how they never would've won the game without him.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. Please R/R!