Chapter 25: Clearing the Air

"Why was it the proper thing to do, Newkirk?" Hogan pressed. He could see where this was going, but he needed to hear it from the corporal's own mouth.

Newkirk squirmed. "B-b-because I'd helped her, I suppose," he said. "Before the baby came."

"How did you help her?" Hogan asked. He kept his voice soft, but he was getting frustrated. If Newkirk had a child at home, why didn't he just own up to it? What did that say about the trustworthiness of a key member of his team?

"By helping her mmmove out of her flat," Newkirk replied. "Helping her fffind a place where she'd be safe."

"You found her a place? With a baby on the way?" Hogan was perturbed. A young woman, on her own? Where was Newkirk's backbone?

"Yes, Sir."

"Why didn't you marry her, Newkirk?"

The corporal looked startled. "Wwwwell, Sir. I won't say it didn't cross my mmmmind. B-b-but I didn't think it would solve anything. And I was only 17, Sir."

"It crossed your mind," Hogan said. He sounded angry and stern.

"Yes, Sir. But… wwwwhat…." Newkirk looked confused and nervous as Hogan continued to bore into him with questions. Kinch, standing behind Hogan, looked equally grave.

"You were only 17," Hogan persisted.

"Yes, Sir."

"Old enough to father a child, but not old enough to take responsibility for the child? I'm having trouble with this. I thought better of you, Newkirk."

"Wwwwwww-what, Sir?" Newkirk's eyes went wide. "Oh, God, no Sir."

"What do you mean, no? Newkirk, be serious for a minute. You can't walk away from your mistakes."

"P-P-P-P-P," Newkirk sputtered. "P-P-P-P-P, P-P-P-P-P…" He struggled to push through the word, squinting his eyes and thumping his fist on his knee, but nothing worked. "P-P-P-P-P…"

Hogan looked on in dismay as Newkirk fought with his stammer. He seemed to be choking on the words.

Kinch sat beside Newkirk on the bunk and gently took him by the wrist. "OK if I say it for you, buddy? Then you can go on from there."

Newkirk, looking exhausted, nodded.

"Peter…" Kinch prompted

"… is not my son! My God, Sir, how could you th-th-think that of me? I would n-n-never…"

"He's not yours?" Hogan asked, reeling. "Are you sure?"

"Of c-course I'm bloody sure!" Newkirk shouted. "I'd bloody well know if I'd made it with R-R-R-Ruby! And I never did," he said, adding quietly, "n-not un-un-un-until two years later. Right before I went into the RAF."

"Newkirk, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm obviously mistaken," Hogan said. "But why did she name her son after you?"

"J-j-j-j-just like I told you! B-because I helped her! She had nowhere to go and I moved her in with me Granny so sssssomeone could look after the b-b-b-baby in the daytime when she was at wwwwork. Her Mmmmmum wwwwouldn't help her, and M-Mavis wouldn't have Ruby at our house, even though she w-was mmmy sister Ellie's best fffriend, so I got her settled at Gran's. She needed to get away fr-fr-from him."

"The father?" Hogan asked, sounding as puzzled as before.

"Her st-st-stepfather," Newkirk replied.

Hogan ran a hand through his hair. How many layers were there to this story? "Her stepfather," he repeated.

"Yes, Sir. Peter's father," Newkirk replied. "Her stepfather, Fr-Fr-Frank Bolton."

XXX

Hogan, Kinch and Newkirk sat quietly for a few long minutes as Hogan sort through the pieces of the latest puzzle involving his exhausted, troubled corporal.

"Where is the little boy now, Newkirk?" Kinch asked.

"He lives with my Granny and my sister Ellie in, in, in Mmmmarlborough. They were evacuated together. Ellie works as a domestic at the college, and Gran takes care of P-P-P-P-P-Peter during the day. I think he's fffffive, so he mmmmust go to school now," Newkirk said.

"I thought… I don't understand," Hogan said. "Newkirk, I thought you didn't like Ruby. But you helped her anyway."

"I hated what she did to me, Sir, and I still do," Newkirk said. "But …" He took a deep breath, shook his head and clutched his arms around himself. Once he stilled himself, he continued.

"She was horrid to me, Sir," Newkirk said. "Made me miserable for years. B-but, Sir, no one acts that way un-unless there's something very wrong. When I figured out what it was, I fffforgave her for what she did to me, but I could never ffforget. And, and I could never ffforgive myself for being so hateful toward her. When she was k-k-k-killed, it ffffelt like all the angry thoughts I ever had about her came true all at once."

"You weren't responsible for her death, Newkirk," Hogan said firmly. "You couldn't wish it and make it happen."

"No, Sir," Newkirk said. "I know that. B-but I still feel guilty for hating her for so long. Even, even after I'd I'd made love to her, part of me still hated her." He shook his head, looking disgusted with himself. It took a while before he went on.

"And w-when I met Nightjar, well, she was so much like Ruby. So sp-sp-spiteful toward me. It made me think, she must be broken too, like Ruby was by her stepfather."

Newkirk stood up and stretched. "I'm, I'm sorry, Sir. This must be very confusing. The thing is, I hated Nightjar with a passion I hadn't ffffelt since I hated Ruby. I wanted to hurt her, though I knew it was wrong to even ffffeel that way. And then I thought, what if the same thing happens to her and it's my fffault? I just, I j-just couldn't be around her, Sir. I was afraid of what I'd do and I knew I could jeopardize all of us if I couldn't control my fffffeeelings."

Hogan nodded. "That's a lot to carry around, Newkirk," he said. He looked the young corporal in the eyes. "I am sorry I accused you, Newkirk."

"I know what it sounded like, Sir," Newkirk replied. "But I do wish you hadn't jumped to conclusions."

"Me too, Newkirk," Hogan responded. He studied Newkirk's face for a moment. "Are you feeling more rested now?"

Newkirk yawned, then smiled tightly. "I, I think so," he replied. "It's good to talk about it. It really does help. I should sleep well tonight, though, Sir."

"All right. Well, the good news is that we have" – Hogan consulted his watch; it was 12:30 – "about 22 and a half hours before Burkhalter arrives. Carter's been softening up the guards to play soccer against an English team. That's where you and your Hooligans come in. Do you feel up to planning something with Lindsey, or should I move to Plan B."

"A bit of football would do me a world of good, Sir," Newkirk said. "I'll go see Lindsey straight away."

Hogan nodded. "LeBeau saved you some lunch. Eat something first, then go," he said.

XXX

Half an hour later, refreshed by sleep and fortified by a plate of potato stew, Newkirk was huddled with Sergeant Lindsey in Barracks 8, reviewing a game plan for the next day's match.

"Who's playing for the Krauts," Newkirk inquired.

"Gephardt, Kaufmann, Schneider…" Lindsey began, roster in hands. "All the wiry lads."

"What about Ernhardt and Langenscheidt" Newkirk asked hopefully.

Lindsey ran a finger down the roster. "Yes. And yes. Why?"

"They're decent chaps. They won't play dirty," Newkirk said. "All right then." He dropped his elbow to the table and rested his head in his hand.

"Worried, laddie?" Lindsey asked. His voice, as always, was anything but quiet, but luckily no one else was listening.

"A bit," Newkirk said. "You sure you can't captain it this time?"

"Colonel Hogan says no—it's time for you to step up, and he's right. The lads respect your playing, Peter. They'll listen to you. I'll coach this time. That's better for my aching hip."

"How old are you, anyway?" Newkirk asked. "Um, sorry, Cappie, I shouldn't ask."

Lindsey laughed. "It's all right. I'm 44, Peter. I've been playing decades longer than you've been alive." It was an exaggeration, but not much of one.

"Well, what do I need to know?" Newkirk looked glum, but he was going to try to be the best captain he could be.

"Keep your directions simple and your voice loud," Lindsey said. "And don't worry if you stammer. Just keep going."

"I sh-shouldn't st-stammer if I yell," Newkirk said. "It's a d-d-different cadence altogether, like giving orders. I can do that."

"All right. You already know how to read the game—being a quiet chap, you've become quite good at that. And just remember: Fire in the belly, ice in the brain. Be confident and calm. You're in charge and everyone's looking to you."

"No pressure," Newkirk said.

"For a talented lad like you? None at all. Just be yourself," Lindsey said. "See you at 9 A.M. for drills, eh? Bring your big voice."

"Right-o, Lindsey." Newkirk grinned, stood, and headed out the door, whistling.

Footnote: Sgt. Lindsey, the bellowing captain of the all-English Hogan's Hooligans football team, last appeared in Chapter 5. In Chapter 14, Hogan struck a deal with Lindsey for Newkirk to co-captain the team as a way of bringing him out of his shell and helping him talk to more people.