Newkirk sat at the desk in the back of the barracks, hunched over a new uniform Colonel Hogan had requested of him. He worked by meager oil lamp while nursing a cigarette. He always grumbled when having to make a new uniform because he sewed everything by hand. Sure, they could sneak in plane and tank parts, but they couldn't sneak in a sewing machine. Rubbish.
The Brit paused for a moment to knock the ash off his cigarette when he heard the slightest tink outside. His head jerked towards the closed window but quickly he returned to his work. Probably just the late night getting to him. The barracks were shoddy, so a screw must have given out.
The uniform Newkirk was sewing was almost complete when a louder thunk caused him to ram the needle into his thumb. With a sharp cry of pain, he quickly turned the lamp off. He assumed it was Schultz about to tell him to turn the light off. He pulled the needle out of his thumb and held the wounded digit in his other hand as he waited for Schultz to go away.
The only thing he heard was the howling wind.
"Bloody hell, what does he want now?" Newkirk grumbled as he went to the window. He opened the boards to reveal no Schultz. He leaned out of the window to look down the side of the barrack and still saw no sign of the man. Quickly he went back over to the desk and grabbed the lamp. He turned it on low so as not to disturb any of the patrolmen. He lowered the lamp out of the window and down to the ground to see if there were any footprints.
To Newkirk's surprise, there were none. Only a rock with a red gash on it.
Knowing the rock came from outside the fence, he stretched the lamp as much as he dared out to the barbed wire. The weak light turned the innocent white snow into a mustard yellow, and a lump in the darkness into the half covered body of person.
The lamp almost fell out of Newkirk's hand. A body? Where did it come from? The team hadn't received any news of someone coming. Also, the person wasn't wearing any uniform the Brit could recognize. A civilian? All the way out here?
Newkirk shook his head and closed the window as he went to go get Colonel Hogan. He moved through the barrack without waking anyone to get to Hogan's office. He knocked before entering and set the lamp down on a table.
Hogan rolled on his side and groaned, "What?"
"I found someone, Colonel. Lying in the snow," Newkirk exampled while he grabbed Hogan's jacket.
"You what?" Hogan asked as he sat up and rubbed his face.
"Outside I found someone. They threw a rock at me window from the other side of the fence."
Colonel Hogan grabbed his jacket from Newkirk and shouldered it on. "Is it a soldier?"
"I don't think so. They're half buried in snow so I can't really tell."
The now fully awake Colonel Hogan hummed in thought. Obviously they couldn't just leave the person out there. Anyone without proper clothing would die in this weather. "You said they threw a rock at your window?" Hogan asked, trying to figure out who was out there.
"Yes, sir. Think they was trying to get our attention?"
"Well, you don't throw a rock into a POW camp unless you want in," he said. "Wake up Carter and go through tunnel two to bring them in. Don't need the Krauts finding him."
"Yes, sir," the Brit replied before exiting the Colonel's office. Carter slept in the bunk beneath his own, so Newkirk strided up with care before shaking the man awake.
Carter blinked open his eyes and swatted at Newkirk for interrupting his sleep. "What is it?" he grumbled, rolling to face the wall.
"There's a person outside the fence covered in snow. Colonel wants us to get to him before the Krauts do," Newkirk whispered back.
The Technical Sergeant sat up so his weight was resting on his elbows. "Is it a soldier?"
"I don't think so. But the bloke threw a rock at me window so they want something," he replied. "Now come on, come on. We're wasting time." Newkirk grabbed the thin blankets Carter was under and threw them to the edge of the bed. Carter sat hunched under the bed above him as he pulled on his shoes. All this fuss over a person that may not even be a soldier.
With laces tied and bomber jacket donned, the Sergeant joined the Corporal at the side of the false bed. Newkirk rapped on it lightly, and the bottom bunk gave way to reveal a sturdy ladder. "Tunnel 2," Newkirk told the American.
They dropped down into the tunnel system lit by a mixture of gas lights and candle sticks. They meandered down to tunnel two which led just outside the fence.
"Alright, remember, we gotta be quick. Don't need old Schultzie to find us out there," Newkirk warned.
Carter gripped the side of the ladder and said, "If he did that means he took the effort to lose a few pounds." Carter gave a slight chuckle as Newkirk hit the ladder, signaling him to move.
The pair emerged from under a fake bush covered in snow. The white flecks were still falling hard. The Brit rolled his eyes as this meant more tedious work for them. He always felt the worst part of being in a prison camp was doing prison camp work.
The American clapped his gloved hands together and rubbed them together before saying, "Alright, where's this body of yours?"
The Brit nodded a few paces ahead of them. "Should be a lump a snow up," he replied. The men skirted around the edge of the search light to help guide them. The fresh snow crunched under their boots, yet the prints were quickly covered by more snow falling.
After walking in the bitter cold for a few minutes, they saw the outline of something lying in the snow. It didn't come up to the height of the surrounding bushes and was much too short for a fallen tree. Immediately the men started walking faster towards the mound, and they both bent down to see if this was the body.
Newkirk grabbed what he assumed was an arm and rolled the body onto its back. Snow toppled to reveal a thin, lifeless body. The Brit pulled off his gloves and placed two fingers on the person's neck to check for a pulse. No use bringing a dead body back to camp.
Carter looked at Newkirk; his eyes filled with worry. After what felt like an eternity, the Brit nodded. "It's faint, but the bloke's got a pulse," he said, going to grab his wrist. To his surprise, his fingers could wrap twice around the wrist and still have more skin to touch. "My god, think this is a dame?" Newkirk asked as Carter grabbed the body by the ankles.
"Guess we'll figure it out once we get back to camp," Carter shrugged. "Now on three…" They counted off to three so they could lift the body together; however, as they said three and pulled up, they found the body to be much lighter than expected. Carter and Newkirk gave a look in the other's direction. Something wasn't right.
They carried the body back to the tunnel and laid it down next to the entrance. Newkirk opened the hatch so the other man could go in first. The Brit had more strength than the American, so he carefully put the body on top of his shoulders in an awkward fireman's carry. They descended down into the light where Carter waited for them. Now that they could see, Newkirk set the body down near a lamp and squatted in front of it.
In the warm glow of the light, Newkirk could see that the body was in fact male, though looked to be barely over sixteen. While the long coat he wore draped like a dress over his frame, he could still tell the man had measurements like a boy scout. Hollow cheeks showed bones with a neck that looked like it could barely support the poor kid's head. Not to mention the complexion like a glass of milk.
"Dear god…" Newkirk breathed, standing up and backing away from the boy.
Carter gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Wh-what do we do?" he asked.
"Go get Colonel Hogan. This is above our rank."
A/N:
I would like to take a moment to mention that I do not write out accents because for me, they distract from the reading. I know Newkirk has a British accent with a Cockney dialect, and I'm sure you all do to. Just hear it in your head. Also, I don't know much British/Cockney slang/dialect so please forgive me on that front. I will do my best.
