Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and to Suzanne of Dragon's Breath for the beta.
Chapter 8
Barracks Two was not a pleasant place to be. Everyone was on edge, tempers were short, and no one wanted to cross Colonel Hogan. Despite the late hour, hardly anyone slept, and the prisoners could hear sound of pacing coming from the next room. The reason for the tension was simple: Newkirk had been missing for over 24 hours.
When Carter was awakened by Shultz's calls for roll call, he had had no difficulty remembering his dream—if that is what it had been. As a result, he had been quieter than usual, only going through the motions of being a prisoner. He couldn't help but wonder if Newkirk's current situation, whatever it may be, was better than the life the stranger had showed him.
The other prisoners did not notice Carter's silence, or if they did, they didn't find it abnormal for the situation. A couple of men had nodded to him, but none really said anything.
They had covered for Newkirk at roll call by putting a dummy in Hogan's bottom bunk and telling the Germans he had the flu. This trick had worked before, and they did not want to risk alerting the SS as to who had witnessed the execution the night before. Unlike last time, however, they did not use the record of snoring. It bursting into music at the wrong time once was enough.
The sound of a toe crashing into something large and muffled curses prompted Andrew to cut his mental ramblings short, and he rolled over in his bunk with a sigh. He was having less luck sleeping than he'd had the previous night. However, that could have been as much the fact that there was no maybe-spirit waiting to drag him into slumber as the heightened tension.
He counted his CO's footsteps. Four steps, pause, four more steps. It was hardly soothing—the obvious tension robbed it of that—but it was better than the horrors he saw every time he closed his eyes.
Eventually, the footsteps began to slow, and there were less creaks from the poorly made bunks as the men stopped tossing and started drifting off. When the pacing in the next room was almost silent, and Andrew himself had begun to nod off, someone in the tunnels tapped on the pipe in the signal to open the trapdoor.
In an instant everybody was awake and alert, and Colonel Hogan was beside the bunk that concealed the entrance before anyone else got his feet on the floor.
The empty bunk that concealed the entrance.
Hogan hit the release and Kinch, not Newkirk, climbed up the revealed ladder.
"Message from London," he said, just as worn as the rest of the men. "They haven't heard from or about him, Colonel. They say they've got the other units keeping an eye out for him, but they can't do much with the SS in the area." He paused, obviously reluctant to impart the rest of the message.
"Go on, Kinch," Hogan prompted him.
Quietly, the sergeant continued, "We're to wait another 24 hours. If he doesn't return by this time tomorrow, we're to assume he was captured, and we're to be on the next sub to England."
When Carter saw the expression on the Colonel's face, he was quite certain that he did not want to be the man that gave that order. If Newkirk did not return by the stipulated time, Carter wasn't sure what would happen, but he had a strong suspicion that the fallout would include phrases such as "insubordination," "disobeying orders," and "court marshal."
"Acknowledge the message," Hogan said, his voice rough with tension. "The rest of you get back to bed. We don't want to draw Klink's attention."
The prisoners went back to their bunks, and Carter watched his CO stalk into his room. Moments later he heard a loud crash, as though something small and wooden, such as a stool, had made contact with a wall. He winced.
The oppressive silence continued until even Carter felt himself drifting off. He wanted nothing more than to sleep until Newkirk returned. Unfortunately the universe had other plans.
The door to the barracks slammed open and Klink and Schultz strode in, flipping on the lights. "Raus! Everybody up!"
A chorus of groans met the announcement, and Colonel Hogan appeared in the doorway of his office showing all the signs of a man just roused from slumber, though Carter was almost certain that Hogan had gotten no more sleep than he himself had.
"What's going on, Kommandant?" the American Colonel asked. "As prisoners of war, we're entitled to a full night's rest. Just check the Geneva Convention." This announcement was not accompanied by the jokes and insults of the prisoners as it would have been any other night, but the Germans did not notice.
"I am not interested in the Geneva Convention, Colonel," Klink replied. "I'm on to your little tricks. Did you think that if I allowed your Corporal Newkirk to miss a few roll calls, he would be able to escape without my noticing? I assure you, Colonel Hogan, it will not work."
Hogan showed no sign that Klink was even near to the truth. "It's not a trick. Newkirk is sick, so I let him use my bottom bunk."
"That is why his bed is empty," Klink gestured towards Kinch's bunk," but why are you still using your room?"
"I do have two bunks," Colonel Hogan stated affably. He put his arm over Klink's shoulders, affecting camaraderie, but in reality steering the older man away from the tunnel entrance. He gestured behind Klink's back for someone to get Kinch as he continued, "You know what it's like being an officer. I'll let one of them join me if he's sick, but I'm not going to bunk with the enlisted men."
Klink nodded in understanding. That this statement was wildly out of character for Hogan to make never occurred to him, probably because he would never have given up his quarters for an enlisted man, and could not believe another officer would do so either. "Then why did he not come out here when you did?"
Hogan, his arm still draped over the other's shoulders, steered Klink towards his office. He cracked open the door and gestured to the shadowed figure on the lower bunk. Then he slapped away the hand reaching for the light. "He's sleeping."
"He can get up." Giving up on the light, he mover towards "Newkirk" with every intention of waking him.
"We think he might be contagious."
Klink froze a foot away from the bunk. "If he is ill, it is probably best not to wake him," Klink said hurriedly.
"Good call, Kommandant."
"But he will still be counted at roll calls. Shultz will personally make sure he is there for every one," Klink said, so happy that he was thwarting the too-smart American's escape plans that he failed to notice Kinch climb out of the corner bunk.
Shultz, on the other hand, did not.
"Shultz! What are you staring at?" he asked when he finally noticed his sergeant's eyes bulging.
"Herr Kommandant, I-I-I-I" he stuttered, and Klink followed his line of sight, seeing only bunks and prisoners. Nothing out of the ordinary. "I see nothing!" Shultz finally managed to say.
"Dummkopf! Come with me," Klink said, striding out of the barracks. Shultz followed, looking over his shoulder at the now-closed tunnel entrance.
The prisoners returned to their beds for the third time that night. The SS was outside the wire, Newkirk was missing, and now Klink was on the warpath. The night couldn't get much worse. That's why, when there was about an hour left until morning roll call, the frantic tapping from below was mostly ignored. Kinch had returned to the radio soon after Klink and Shultz left, and nobody wanted to hear any more bad news.
Carter just rolled over on his bunk, having been roused yet again. He'd be surprised if he had managed to get two hours of sleep.
No one else was in any hurry to open the trapdoor either. With the way their luck was running, London had radioed to confirm that Newkirk was captured and they had to evacuate the camp before dawn.
The taps continued, increasing in both pace and volume, and an American private climbed out of bed to let out whoever was making the noise, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep.
Once the tunnel entrance was open, however, the prevalent mood in the barracks changed immediately from one of apathy to wild enthusiasm and excitement as a haggard but alive Newkirk climbed up the ladder almost before it finished opening, and was immediately swarmed by the other prisoners. Carter was surprised the barracks guard hadn't burst in the door, demanding to know why the prisoners were causing such a racket.
Colonel Hogan, who had burst into the main room at the first shout of welcome, watched the proceedings with a smile. Eventually he silenced the crowd and asked Newkirk to share what had happened since he split with Carter and Olsen.
"It's like this," the corporal began, his tone indicating that his story was slightly—modified. "I kept shooting at the SS to keep their attention on me, and led them on a merry chase through the countryside. I may have been heading away from camp, but after three years of running around blowing things up I knew the area better than them. It wasn't hard to lose them, then I hid in the ruins of the Adolf Hitler Bridge." He shot Hogan a look that implied there was more to the story, then he continued. "I waited there until dark then made my way back here."
The colonel nodded. "You can give a complete report after roll call. Until then you're officially sick and sleeping on my bottom bunk. Go get cleaned up."
Everyone was still smiling when they filed out into the pre-dawn air. Carter lagged behind the rest and took a long look back at the empty room, much happier to be back than he would have thought a week ago. His friend had returned safely, which would hopefully put Klink in a better mood. Even the SS couldn't stick around forever. Maybe war is necessary, he thought as he left the barracks. I still don't like it, but it is better than the alternative. He closed the door.
As though those thoughts had been a catalyst, a Sioux warrior dressed in archaic regalia stepped away from the corner where he had watched the reunion unnoticed. Slowly, he nodded once in satisfaction and vanished.
"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."
-Edmund Burke
