Not all nightmares occur when you are asleep. Sometimes they are thankfully avoided. Sometimes they are stopped, and others, sadly, are unimaginable.
Nightmares
continuing with the holiday theme
.
It was forever winter in Stalag 13, except when it was not.
Not long after the Mardi Gras caper, which was a grand success, thank you very much, the weather shifted.
On February 22nd, the ground was frozen; the snow carpeted the compound and dusted the roofs of all the buildings. The tower guards barely avoided frostbite.
On March 9, 1944, grass shoots could be seen poking out from patches of snow. It was mid-morning, and the sleepy men who previously stumbled out of their huts for the early morning appel, squinted as the glare from the sun hit their eyes. The guys over in Barracks 3 were starting to kick a ball back and forth, while a few men from Barracks 4 inexplicably began jogging around the compound.
"Well, that's a horse of a different color," commented Carter as soon as he stepped outside. He immediately decided to try to catch some rays by taking off his shirt and parking himself on a bench. "Been a while since we had such nice weather."
"That's because it's Purim," Goldman told him. "It always seems to be sunny on my birthday and Jewish holidays."
"Oh, you're just kidding, right?" Carter asked his hut mate.
"Nope. Not kidding." Goldman replied. "It never seems to rain on July 4th," he said. "At least not where I live." He paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Yes. And the Jewish holidays, too."
"Seriously?" Carter asked. "Your birthday is Independence Day? Colonel Hogan! Did you hear that? Roy's birthday is July 4th!"
A smiling Hogan sidled over. "What was that, Carter?"
"Goldman's birthday is July 4th!"
"I knew that." Kinch was eavesdropping on the conversation. Like many right-hand men, he knew everything about everyone. Or at least it seemed that way.
"I'll definitely file that away for future reference," Hogan said. "I've already used Independence Day for a con. Although for the life of me, I can't remember what for."
"They're all running into one another," Kinch replied. "I don't recall what it was either. And of course, we can't take notes."
"Notes for what?"
Kinch turned. "Oh, hi there, Schultz. Last Independence Day."
"You had a party and destroyed some kind of experimental weapon that was inexplicably sent here."
Kinch, Hogan, Carter and Goldman's mouths hung open in shock.
"I thought you knew nothing and saw nothing, Schultz," was Hogan's incredulous reply. "Don't tell me you write these things down in a calendar or a notebook?" Please don't tell me you do that, Hogan repeated silently.
"No, I do not. It's all up in here." Schultz tapped his head. "Do you want to know more?"
"No!" was the reply from all four of the men.
"I'm surprised your English is good enough to know the word inexplicable," Carter mentioned.
"That's insulting," Kinch whispered.
"That's perfectly all right. I picked up a lot after guarding you jolly jokers. But I'm happy to forget your comment."
At that, Carter reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of chocolate. He handed it to the guard, who thanked him, and then promptly took off.
Schultz keeping a written log of our various hijinks would be a nightmare of epic proportions. Hogan thought for a moment. "Aha. Newkirk!" he called out.
The Londoner quickly jogged over. "Yes, guv?"
I need you to break into Schultz's quarters and look for any written material that mentions all the chaos we've caused. Holidays, celebrations, damage. You know what we're looking for."
"Right away, Colonel. If I may ask, what brought this on?"
"Oh, that is not good," Newkirk said after Hogan informed him of the conversation. "For someone who claims to know nothing, he knows a lot more than something."
"Well, he hasn't blabbed yet, so I think this isn't too much of a concern. But I don't want to take any chances. Maybe Klink won't see a pattern, but the Gestapo or Burkhalter will."
HhHhH
Meanwhile, Klink was still quite miffed about the aforementioned Mardi Gras incident. While he was grateful no one was hurt, the gates needed repair, and his superiors were quite angry about the destruction of the radio detector truck. Sentencing both Carter and Newkirk to 30 days in the cooler, which he felt was perfectly reasonable, didn't help assuage his guilt for allowing the celebration in the first place. And of course, he agreed to a lighter sentence after Hogan's pleas. Klink was not anything if not humane.
He walked over to the window and spied prisoners enjoying the warmer weather and sunshine. Deciding to get some air, he walked outside and headed over to where Hogan and a few of his men were chatting.
"So tell me. What is…"
He heard Carter start to ask that short guy a question. Klink couldn't remember his name, but Carter stopped talking as soon as he spied the Kommandant heading his way.
"Don't stop on my account," Klink said. "Enjoying the nice weather?"
"Yes, sir." Hogan removed his crush cap and wiped off some sweat with a handkerchief. "Carter and Goldman are discussing birthdays."
"I told him," Goldman said. "It's July 4th."
"That is your Independence Day," Klink mentioned as he recalled the Mardi Gras nightmare. "I've had enough of your holiday celebrations, Hogan. Every time another one arrives, something bad happens and I have to answer for it. Last year, your holiday festivities destroyed a weapon. I'm still hearing about that. No more!" Klink wagged his finger at the men and then stomped off.
"How come he remembers?" Kinch stated. "I need to keep track of these things with code. With your permission, sir?"
Hogan nodded. "You can't just make this up. Get help, Kinch. So, Goldman, you were about to explain Purim to Carter?" Hogan had some experience with Judaism; he traveled quite a bit and had Jewish friends growing up in Bridgeport.
A group of men now gathered around Goldman, who regaled his audience with tales of Purim festivities. "First, the holiday actually started last night. So, on Purim we read the Book of Esther, which tells the story of how Haman tried to...well...basically kill all the Jews under Persian rule."
"Another nightmare." Kinch shook his head.
"Yeah. Well, it never seems to end, does it?" Goldman said quietly.
"Sorry, buddy." Kinch squeezed Goldman's shoulder.
Goldman nodded and then continued. "Anyway, Queen Esther managed to save the people. There's a lot more to the story, but basically, she was Jewish and also married to the King. And Haman wound up on the gallows instead of the Jewish subjects. That's the really quick version."
"So, I've heard you dress up and make noise?" asked Baker.
"And eat hamantaschen and give to charity," Goldman replied. "Well, at least we did. I can't speak for other families and areas. Our synagogue put on a Purim spiel. That's a comedic play. The noise?" He laughed. "Whenever you say Haman during the service, we try to drown out his name."
"We should do that with you know who. Anyway, it sounds like a lot of fun," Carter said.
"It is." Goldman smiled. "Thanks for taking interest, guys."
"No need to thank us, Roy." Carter said kindly. "We're all in this together. And learning about other cultures and religions and respecting differences gives a you know what to you know who. Colonel, can we throw a Purim celebration?"
Hogan thought about the suggestion. There were no plans afoot. No weapons to destroy. No one to sneak out. For once, he could help his men celebrate a holiday without an ulterior motive. And that felt good. Once Newkirk came back and reported that he could not find any sign of Schultz creating a list or diary, the preparations began.
Festivities commenced in the tunnel that evening. LeBeau managed to make some hamantaschen, while the guys in the metal shop whipped up some noisemakers. Attendees also whistled and stomped their feet as the chaplain, who was of course familiar with all faiths, told the story.
Meanwhile, Klink, who was working late, heard some noise and felt a bit of shaking. He suspected the area either had suffered a small earthquake, or mostly likely, someone was having artillery practice off in the distance.
Purim came and went, and the next day, to no one's surprise, the weather deteriorated and the compound turned into a sea of mud. A cold wind whipped through the camp, making the men working on releasing trapped vehicles miserable. The cold rain stung the prisoners' faces as they worked. Other prisoners were hastily putting together a walkway so the Kommandant would not get his precious boots stuck, and another group of men repaired leaky roofs. It seemed that the entire contingent of Allied prisoners were on duty.
"This weather is a nightmare," Newkirk complained as he wrung out his hat. He blew on his hands, his gloves worthless in this mess.
"Think of all the poor boys freezing in their foxholes." Schultz was supervising the prisoners as they worked.
"Yeah, well, who started this bad dream, Schultz? France? England? Poland? America?" LeBeau was in a rotten mood. He felt a cold coming on, and the joyous camaraderie of the previous evening, plus the three cornered pastries he baked with little warning, were quickly forgotten as he tried fruitlessly to shovel. "Mud is heavy," he griped.
Schultz had no good reply to the question.
"Repoooort!" Klink hurried over and stared. "Work harder. The men over there have freed two cars already." He pointed towards the rec hall, where, sure enough, a group of men from the other side of camp, had indeed freed two cars stuck in the mire.
LeBeau stopped digging and leaned on his shovel handle. "We have a truck, Kommandant."
"That is true." Schultz forgot LeBeau's rant and began daydreaming about the delicious pastry LeBeau slipped to him the previous evening. He knew it was a bribe, but he didn't care. He made sure none of the guards bothered anyone for close to two hours after dinner. This time, he had no idea what the boys were up to...and so nothing made it into the file drawer nestled in his brain.
Klink removed his monocle, wiped off the water, blinked at Schultz and then marched off in a huff.
Goldman, who was excused from duty due to a repetitive stress injury on his wrist, looked out the window, happy to be inside his barracks where it was cold but not wet.
"I told you it always seems to be sunny on Jewish holidays, Colonel. At least where I'm from." He flexed his fingers and grimaced. "That's the last time I go full throttle on a grogger."
Hogan chuckled. "I'm sure you'll be home to celebrate next year. Well, we have quite a ways to go before July 4th. So, Goldman. When is your next holiday?"
"Not for a while, Colonel. It's Passover. It's in April."
"Around Easter." Hogan sighed. "I was hoping there would be a minor festival popping up."
"Not that I'm aware of, sir."
"Well, we'll just have to hope for another turn in the weather then."
A/N: I initially wanted this to be a bit funnier, but there is no getting around the elephant in the room in this chapter. And that is just not funny.
"Well, that's a horse of a different color," is from the Wizard of Oz
A grogger (Yiddish) means noisemaker. There is a lot more to the holiday. I fondly recall Purim services when I was a child. This continued for my own children. We've had costume parties/contests-our family actually won one years ago when we dressed up as Disney tourists-and it's common for synagogues to hold carnivals.
More on Purim. From: reformjudaismdotorg: "With celebrations including costumes, skits and songs, noisemakers, and gifts of food, Purim is definitely full of fun! Purim is a joyous holiday that affirms and celebrates Jewish survival and continuity throughout history. The main communal celebration involves a public reading—usually in the synagogue—of the Book of Esther (M'gillat Esther), which tells the story of the holiday: Under the rule of King Ahashverosh, Haman, the king's adviser, plots to exterminate all of the Jews of Persia. His plan is foiled by Queen Esther and her cousin Mordechai, who ultimately save the Jews of Persia from destruction. The reading of the m'gillah typically is a rowdy affair, punctuated by booing and noise-making when Haman's name is read aloud.
Purim is an unusual holiday in many respects. First, Esther is the only biblical book in which God is not mentioned. Second, Purim, like Hanukkah, is viewed as a minor festival according to Jewish custom, but has been elevated to a major holiday as a result of the Jewish historical experience. Over the centuries, Haman has come to symbolize every antisemite in every land where Jews were oppressed. The significance of Purim lies not so much in how it began, but in what it has become: a thankful and joyous affirmation of Jewish survival."
My sister's birthday is on the 4th of July and it always seems to be nice weather wherever she is. Coincidence? I think not. We still joke about it.
Goldman's weather experience on Jewish holidays is taken from my own experience. While there have been exceptions, I think we usually had a pretty good run of decent weather.