"A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver."
Proverbs 25:11
*.*.*.*
Punctual
Good old German efficiency. You can count on it, down to the second—if a train's meant to arrive at its destination at 3:07, then you needn't bother looking for it at 3:06, and don't even think about 3:08. Punctuality isn't just a virtue—it's practically a religion.
You have to admire it. As much as we might not like to admit it, the Germans have a few things to teach us. That exactitude of theirs… well, it's something to emulate. And we do.
Carter's bombs go off exactly when they should. Not a minute before. Not a minute after.
*.*.*.*
Boxes
Cigarettes, soap, and spam. Cocoa, coffee, and corned beef. Margarine to help along sawdusty bread, chocolate to help along bribable guards. A sixpenny nail to poke a new hole in your belt when it gets too loose. Again.
Every week (or so. Some delays are inevitable, some theft is unavoidable,) the truck rolls in the gates, heavy laden with small cardboard parcels that, (LeBeau's best efforts notwithstanding,) are the difference between starvation and survival.
It's strange, sometimes, to look at them and wonder just how life and death could possibly fit inside a box that's less than a foot square.
*.*.*.*
Daybreak
Dawn comes too early, even at home. Depending on where you live, maybe the alarm clock clangs, or the rooster screeches, or the El rattles your window, or the baby starts crying, but one thing is always the same. Day breaks, work starts, and it's goodbye, warm bed.
And then you enlist.
And then you get shot down. Get captured.
And then you're standing in wobbly rows in the gray, predawn chill as cranky guards try to decide if you're still there or not. Roll call would be depressing enough after sunrise. Couldn't they give you at least that much?
Author's note: The El, or elevated train, was a feature of city life; many are now disused or dismantled. It was a great way to get around town. It was not a great way to wake up in the morning; they could get loud.
*.*.*.*
Rules
Stay away from the fence. No talking after lights-out. Don't bother the dogs, or the guards, or the visiting officers. No stealing, black-marketing, or contraband. Do as you're told. Don't try to escape. Submit. Don't fight with the other POWs. If you're unsure about anything, assume you're not allowed to do it.
Those are Klink's rules.
Don't let them see you sweat. Keep your sense of humor. Watch each other's backs. Don't lose hope, no matter how hopeless it seems. Resist, however and whenever you can. Assume that we can do the impossible, because we will.
Those are Hogan's rules.
*.*.*.*
Return
Carter handed the escapee his travel papers. "You remember the plan, right? I take you to the rendezvous point. Someone from the Underground meets you there, you hand over the briefcase, and he shows you the way to the border."
"Aren't you coming?" the airman asked.
"Me? Heck, no. I gotta be back by roll call," Carter said. "The Colonel is expecting me."
"He'd understand if you wanted to escape," the man persisted. "He'd understand if you didn't want to come back here."
"Yeah, I know," said Carter, and smiled. "That's part of the reason it's so easy to stay."