Chapter 2

Dear Dad,

I'm in the hands of the German army. But, don't worry. I'm okay. So, in the space of two weeks, they've shuttled me all over the country. My lucky charm, the MD red, or purple or cranberry—no one really knows the color—bathrobe stopped working. Ha ha. I finally landed in a huge POW camp. Spent one week there. I think. Kind of lost track of time. Then I got transferred to another camp. You'll get the Red Cross notice eventually. This camp is smaller. Much smaller. And they didn't have a doctor.

I'm the only one in the infirmary right now. The medic left to take care of some things. Nice guy. He's older and was in the last war. The one that was supposed to end all wars.

Pierce took a sip of water and then continued.

I've been through the supplies. Basic stuff. Not too much left here. Memorized the location of everything. Have a few kids with respiratory infections. The place is clean. Or as clean as they can make it. Haven't had a chance to check the conditions in the barracks. I'm bunking here, but I'll make sure to check every hut. I don't know how many there are.

Hawkeye put down his pencil and shut his eyes for a moment. He recalled learning the importance of cleanliness. His father taught him how to keep the office and treatment room spotless, and schooled him on sterilization techniques, which they also used on their many house calls. He carried that knowledge and behavior through college and medical school.

He was not, however, fastidious when it came to personal space; his father would get a glimpse of his son's room and groan. He smiled at the memory of his dad's frustration.

He wiped his eyes and took a moment to compose himself.

I heard at the first camp that mail is slow as molasses. Maybe this damn war will be over before our letters cross.

My new C.O. is Colonel Hogan. Seems okay. Although it appears most of the prisoners are enlisted. Met the Kommandant. (Didn't have the pleasure at the other camp) No snap judgments here, but he looks like he came out of Hollywood. Making a movie that is set in the last war. The aide or guard-not sure what his position is; well, not the healthiest specimen.

And, the Kommandant has a secretary. A woman!

Deciding that he would finish his letter later, Hawkeye thought it best to lock it in his footlocker, which fit underneath his cot.

Hawkeye stood up, stretched, and walked over to the beds. "Anyone need anything?" he asked.

At a chorus of no's, he excused himselfand plopped down on his cot. He threw one arm over his head and mulled over his predicament. This has to be better than Stalag 5, he thought to himself. He tried not to think about his experience at the aid station. His nightmares were already bad enough. He definitely didn't want to relive them in the daytime.

There were two men in camp from Maine. Neither had heard of Crabapple Cove, but that didn't mean it didn't exist

"Too bad we can't wire his photo," Kinch told Carter, who was keeping the radioman company in the tunnels. "That would be a nice bit of technology to have available," Kinch noted. He sighed as he looked at the non-functioning radio.

Carter shrugged. "I think he's okay. Small town; father a doctor. That's so easy to check. We could sneak into the newspaper office in Düsseldorf and send it out. We'd have to get a photo of the doctor first."

Kinch chuckled. "I doubt the Colonel would allow anyone to take that risk. We'll get word eventually. How many 25 year old doctors from Crabapple Maine could there be?"

Carter's eyes grew wide. "Do you think this doc's father was informed of his capture yet?"

"Not sure." Kinch snapped his fingers. "Carter. You just gave me a brilliant idea!"

Hogan was seated at his desk in his office, twirling a pencil around his fingers. Hearing the knock at the door, he answered, "come." Kinch walked in.

"Colonel. Carter and I have an idea about vetting the doctor. This may be faster than waiting for the usual channels."

"I'm listening," Hogan said.

"So, his father is listed as next-of-kin. What happens if they send someone around to his father's house? I know sending someone in person is not usually done, but they can make up an excuse. Let him know he's been captured. Ask to see a photo. There's usually one lying around. I figure, the faster we know he's okay, the better off we'll all be," Kinch explained.

Hogan mulled over the suggestion. Plants were getting wise to tricks. Baseball questions weren't safe anymore. "His father may or may not have been notified. But we can work with that. It's worth a try." Hogan grabbed a piece of paper and with his pencil, he wrote out a brief message. "Code it and we will send it through to London as soon as we get the radio parts."

Hawkeye sang as he washed his hands, not noticing that the door had opened.

The prisoner coughed loudly and got Hawkeye's attention. "Sorry to bother you, Doc. I couldn't find Wilson. Could have sworn I had a splinter. Must be small. We looked at my finger in my barracks, but couldn't find it."

"Couldn't find the finger or the splinter?"

"Um. The splinter."

"Of course, it's no bother. And you can call me Hawkeye. So, I can't check it if you don't come in," Hawkeye said, as he turned on a light and grabbed a magnifying glass. "No charge!"

The young man gave the men in the beds a quick wave and then stepped over to where the doctor stood.

"Sometimes your nerve endings feel something that's not there," Hawkeye told the sergeant. "Hold your hand up here, near the light."

"Gee, thanks. So, how you like it here so far? Sorry, it's only been a few hours. Did I hear you were in Stalag 5? I was there as well. By accident. It's not a Luftwaffe camp. Oh, sorry. I'm Carter. Andrew Carter. I'm over in Barracks 2."

"Nice to meet you, too. I was there a week. I think. That was after we were shuffled all over the place by train." Hawkeye guessed Carter to be about his age. "I don't see anything in the finger. But, it's good you came by to get it checked."

"Gee, thanks, Doc. The Colonel doesn't want us taking any chances. Risk of infection."

Hawkeye nodded. "Wish I had some penicillin. Come back if it still bothers you."

"Don't we all. Wish we had penicillin, I mean." Carter glanced over at the men in the beds. "How is everyone doing?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "Fine. Hang on. You need to sign the log, and I need to find your record." Fortunately, he knew where the files were kept, and he quickly pulled out Carter's. "Ah. There we are. Andrew Carter."

As Hawkeye noted Carter's visit and Carter signed the log, the door opened and another man stepped into the infirmary. He shivered as he shut the door.

"It's so cold out there. Hi, Carter. Doc. I'm Anderson. I help Wilson out. Are we glad you're here! We've had to send some patients into town to the hospital."

"Wilson mentioned you when I first got over here. And it's Hawkeye," Pierce said for the umpteenth time. He walked over to Anderson and shook his hand. "Did the hospital take care of them?" he asked.

"Yes. Klink made sure of it. Not saying it was the best of care, but they made it back in one piece. We even had a case of appendicitis and he turned out okay."

Hawkeye thought for a moment. "I can't do any major surgery here. We don't even have any anesthetics. But, I suppose I can help out with other issues, so they don't have to go into a German ward."

Anderson went over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. "You okay, Carter? You don't look sick."

"I'm fine. Thought I had a splinter."

"Good. I can relieve you for a bit, Hawkeye. I bet you haven't had a tour of the camp. Carter, can you show him around?"

"Oh, sure. I'd be happy to. Bundle up as best as you can. It's freezing."

Once he and Carter left the infirmary, Hawkeye shaded his eyes against the bright sunshine. He blew on his hands in a futile effort to keep them warm.

Carter noticed. "We have some extra gloves," he told him. "You need anything else?"

"I just have these clothes. And my bathrobe."

"We'll see what we can find for you. So, you've already been to delousing."

As Carter rambled on and on, Hawkeye got a good look at his new home. "These huts are a lot smaller than Stalag 5's."

"Yeah, we're in a former summer camp. The huts are awfully cold and drafty this time of year. We have one stove. And rain gets in, too. We're always patching the roofs."

"Our huts were long and huge. And our compound wasseparated from the Germans," Hawkeye stated.

"Yeah, I remember that," Carter said.

"How many POW's are here?" Hawkeye asked.

"About a thousand. Each hut holds about 14 men," Carter added. A lot more have come in since the invasion, and the German counter-offensive."

"How am I supposed to take care of all of them?" Hawkeye's voice rose a bit.

"Hey, don't worry, Hawkeye. You've got lots of help. Wilson and Anderson are great. Besides, considering the situation, we're pretty healthy; you'll be fine."

So far, was Hawkeye's thought. So far.

Carter continued his nickel tour. "Stay away from the fences. I'm sure you got the lectures from Klink and at the other camp," Carter said. "The guards in the towers aren't trigger happy, but you never know."

Hawkeye noticed one of the guards heading over. He held his rifle to the side, and appeared, at first glance, non-threatening.

"Hello, Carter. Is this our new doctor?"

"Hi, Langenscheidt. Yes. This is Lieutenant Pierce."

The guard was cordial, which was a nice change from Stalag 5. While Hawkeye never felt threatened in the week he was there, he found most of the guards a bit menacing and standoffish. All business. Of course, he now realized he was still in shock and too disoriented to feel anything.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor Pierce. I hope you enjoy your stay with us."

Carter laughed. "You're too funny, Karl. Langenscheidt is a jack of all trades. Speaks how many languages?"

"Five." The guard blushed. "I have to continue my duties now."

"He fills in at the office when the secretaries aren't there," Carter said after Langenscheidt left. "Let's see. You probably met Hilda. She shares duties with Helga, although Hilda is here more." He pointed to a pen. "That's where they keep the dogs. Don't go near there, either. You've been to the Kommandant's office. It connects to his quarters, somehow. I've been to his quarters. They're nice. Real kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. I've had to play waiter for visiting bigwigs. Anyway, you've seen the latrine and showers, I assume."

"Yes," Hawkeye replied. He was having trouble keeping up with Carter's play-by-play. He knew he could run off in the mouth, but this sergeant had him beat by a mile.

Carter must have heard what Hawkeye was thinking. "Am I going too fast?" the tech sergeant asked.

"You can slow down a bit. I'm running out of sheets in my mental notepad."

Carter laughed. "Sorry. I tend to do that."

"Don't worry about it. So, tell me, what do you do for fun here?"

"I'll show you the rec hall and mess hall. That's about all the excitement we have around here. Now, anyway. We play volleyball, shoot some baskets, toss balls around, when the weather is better." The affable sergeant introduced Hawkeye to everyone they came across, although due to the frigid temperatures, most prisoners were inside.

A truck pulled into the gates and headed towards the dog pen.

"Who's that?" Hawkeye asked.

"That's the vet. He supplies the guard dogs." Carter shuddered. "They're vicious."

Hawkeye glanced over at the pen. "Like the dogs at 5," he said. He shivered. He felt the cold in his bones. He noticed the dogs became active and excited when they saw their handler. "Seems they take care of the dogs; maybe better than the humans in here?"

"Um. Well." Carter didn't know how to answer that. He grabbed Hawkeye's arm and turned him away from the pen. "Come with me. I'll take you over to my barracks. That's 2. Colonel Hogan also lives with us. So does his administrative staff. That's me, Kinch—he's his second—LeBeau and Newkirk. You'll meet them."

"Sounds like a plan," Hawkeye said. "Let's go."

"MD" stands for medical dept.

A/N: full credit to Sierra Sutherwind for the mental note-pad line!