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Chapter Five
10 November 1944
The men shrank deeper into their thin coats as they stood in the building wind at morning roll call. Fists shoved under his armpits, Hogan turned his lowered head occasionally to the men around him, nodding in encouragement as they stamped their feet and jogged in place, waiting for the word that they could go back into the relative warmth of the barracks.
Finally, the door to the Kommandant's office opened, and Colonel Wilhelm Klink, wearing his long, fur-lined overcoat, strolled out to stand before the assembled men. "Good morning, gentlemen!" he practically sang. "Lovely brisk weather we're having, isn't it?"
"What's so good about it?" Hogan asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice. "The men are freezing, there isn't enough hot water, and the food lately… well, that's against the Geneva Convention."
"Right. You lot could've won the Battle of Britain had you dropped yesterday's supper on London." Newkirk turned enough to put his back to the wind and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets to keep them warm.
Le Beau laughed and clapped his hands together. "Oui, and what your cooks do to food should be against the law anywhere in the civilized world!"
"Yeah, even the hogs on my uncle's farm would turn up their noses at it." Carter grinned as Schultz began making shushing noises at the men.
"Sorry, Schultz, but it's the truth." Kinch rubbed his hands together, blowing on them in an effort to stay warm. "We just call it like we see it."
"And it's not much to look at," came a voice from somewhere in the back of the line. Laughter rippled through the group.
"That's enough!" bellowed Klink over the noise. "Colonel Hogan, if your men are so unhappy with the food our staff works so hard to prepare for them, perhaps they would like to do without."
Hogan frowned and drew up his shoulders in an effort to warm his neck for a moment. "Much as my sense of taste would like me to accept your offer, Kommandant, I'm afraid we'll have to make the most of a bad situation and keep eating what you have to dole out. Maybe as a compromise you can let Le Beau give them some cooking lessons."
"Ja, Herr Kommandant! What a wonderful idea!" Schultz's face broke into a wide grin. "Cockroach, could you teach them how to make those delicious potato pancakes the way you do? So light and fluffy they almost float off your plate!"
Klink turned sternly to the guard and said, "You'll be floating east to the Russian front if you don't stop the prisoners' insolence right now!" He looked back at Hogan. "And you, Colonel Hogan, will learn to accept what you have and be grateful for it. Every mouthful you eat takes food out of the mouths of our fine German soldiers."
Newkirk pulled his coat collar tighter around his neck and muttered, "I say we give it back so they can choke on their own poison and end the war that much faster."
Hogan let out a lopsided grin but out loud said only, "We're grateful, Colonel. Believe me, we're grateful." In a low voice only those around him could hear, he added, "We're grateful the rations are so small right now."
"Boys, please be quiet so we can get this over with." Schultz shook his head at the resulting laughter and began the head count once more. "It is too cold for any more monkey business."
"Colonel, are my men still allowed to go out on wood cutting detail today?" Hogan asked.
Klink looked at the sky before responding. "Yes, Colonel Hogan, I believe that would be a good idea. Schultz, see to the arrangements."
Hogan tilted his head. "You're being awfully big about this, Kommandant. What's the catch?"
"Must there always be a catch, Hogan?" Klink shook his head. "I try to do something nice for the prisoners, and you suspect my motives."
"That's only because your motives are so suspect."
Klink smiled smugly. "Ah, Hogan, one day you will learn to trust me. But for today, of course I will let your men go out to cut more firewood. And as long as they fill the truck that will hold the wood for the guards, then your men can have whatever is left over."
"Now hold on, Kommandant—"
"Diiiiiisssss-misssssed." Klink turned on his heel walked away. Hogan made a sound of disgust and turned back to the barracks.
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I should have known. Every day it gets just a little harder to let Klink get away with being so smug. The cold weather is coming, we need to get some firewood so the men in the barracks don't freeze to death, and what does Klink do? Well, Colonel Full-Of-Himself smiles and says of course the men can go out and cut some firewood—but they have to fill the guards' truck first, so the Germans can have plenty of firewood to keep themselves warm. And then whatever's left over, the prisoners can have. Those trucks are no small vehicles; by the time the work detail has cut enough wood to fill the truck, the boys will be too tired to do much for themselves. And if they don't push on and do more than they can actually handle, then all they've succeeded in doing is helping the Krauts.
Klink can be as dumb as he wants to be, but sometimes, he's just too cunning. It's one of the reasons that no matter how dumb I want to believe he is, I always know better just long enough to never, ever take his stupidity for granted. One day, he may prove us all wrong.
You know, in a perverse, warped kind of way, I almost hope he does—not if it poses danger to any of my men or the operation, of course—but when this is all over and it's safe. Because then it would make having had to kowtow to him more bearable. Because right now, it's one of the most humiliating, soul-destroying things I've ever had to do. But I'll keep doing it, if it means our boys get what they need… and the Nazis get their brass kicked right back through Europe. I just hope the Allies hurry it up, because otherwise, I might get arrested for murder!
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Hogan entered the barracks about an hour after the roll call and quickly closed the door behind him. "I need a few volunteers," he announced.
Newkirk lay on the bunk, eyes closed, not moving. Le Beau continued stirring the pot he was standing at, and Kinch continued looking at his book, only occasionally glancing up toward his commanding officer. Carter, however, spoke up almost enthusiastically. "What do you want us to do, Colonel?"
Hogan moved further into the room and held his face for a moment over the steaming pot. "I'm glad you asked, Carter," he said. "As you no doubt heard at roll call this morning, we need wood. And I need some volunteers to cut it." A small grimace that he couldn't hide. "I couldn't get Klink to change his conditions."
Newkirk still didn't move. Le Beau stirred the pot a little harder and pulled the spoon out quickly, forcing Hogan to pull back or be hit in the face with it. Kinch shook his head and set aside his book. Carter's face fell a bit, but he nodded. "Okay, Colonel, when do we start?"
"I'll meet my volunteers in half an hour at the front gate." Hogan leaned in close to the top bunk near the door where Newkirk had remained still. "That goes for you, too, Newkirk."
"I ruddy well don't recall volunteering... sir." Newkirk still didn't move, even though Hogan was speaking directly to him. "Besides, I'm already on trash detail."
Hogan moved to within an inch of Newkirk's ear. "I'll get someone less physically fit on trash duty. He who wants to use the wood, will help cut the wood." He turned to the others in the room. "Right?"
Le Beau and Kinch exchanged glances. Le Beau dropped the spoon back into the pot and shrugged, frowning. "Right," he said, sitting heavily at the table.
Kinch nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, right, Colonel." He stood up. "I volunteer."
Hogan nodded, smiling. "That's more like it. There'll be a good dozen men out there today. And another dozen out there tomorrow. We all take our turns."
Newkirk hauled himself out of bed, muttered something under his breath that even Hogan couldn't quite hear, and settled his cap on his head. "When you put it that way, sir, 'ow can I refuse?"
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I'm tired and my muscles are sore and I really feel like turning in for the night, but I can't yet because I'm still so mad about today.
Colonel Hogan managed to get us assigned to a work detail to cut some trees for firewood because it's been so cold, and winter's not far off—and Klink actually agreed. But only after he made the Colonel accept that we'd have to fill the guards' truck with wood first, and then get some for ourselves. Well, that was gonna be hard yards, because the work is hard and all the men aren't in the absolute best shape to be doing that kind of work, not long enough to get the guards a truck full of wood and then us.
So what happened? Hogan joined in with us instead of doing the general supervising, and he must have done twice as much work as any man—and the reason I'm mad is I know why. He would have felt angry—and guilty—that he had to agree to it for the prisoners to get extra firewood, and he tried to make up for it by having us do as little as possible, if he could only do so much more. And so he grabbed hold of an axe and started in with such fierceness that I thought he'd cut down a tree with one swing.
I thought sure he'd slow down after awhile, but he continued at the same pace for about two hours. He was dead tired when we all got back on the truck to come back to camp, but I could still see he was gauging whether we had enough wood to make it through for awhile, and checking to see if the rest of us were okay. Louis was the only one of us bold enough when we got back to the barracks to speak up and practically force the Colonel into bed. I could tell Hogan was exhausted; he didn't even protest.
If only the Colonel really understood how much he already does for us, he might not feel obligated to push himself so hard. But then, knowing him, he might anyway—
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"Hey, Louis, would you stop that banging? It's getting so a fella can't hear himself think!" Kinch practically snapped his pencil in two before shoving it inside his diary.
Le Beau turned away from the soup that he was stirring in the pot on the stove of the common room and glared at Kinch. "You think it is easy to make something that will suit the tastes of people like you and Newkirk without making some kind of a racket? I would think you would be used to it in all the greasy diners you would have eaten in at home!"
Carter looked up from his job as yarn-holder for Newkirk, who was busy making a ball of the wool he had gotten hold of from a contact in Hammelburg, and said, "Gee, Kinch, it's not so noisy up here." He smiled, a look of pure innocence on his face. "Hey, it's not so loud in the tunnel—why don't you go down there for awhile if Louis's bothering you? I mean it's not like he can move the stove down there."
"That's the problem," Kinch practically growled back. "It's about fifteen degrees colder down there; I'd rather be up here. If it was quiet!"
Newkirk rolled his eyes, then glared at Carter. "Not so noisy, is it? What about you an' that ruddy incessant humming you're doing?" He shook his head and gave the yarn a good tug to free more of it from Carter's hands. "It's not likely to get quiet in here unless you give Lily bloody Marlene a rest for a while!"
"Hey, what's wrong with the way I sing?" Carter demanded.
"You're not singing is what's ruddy well wrong with the way you sing, mate! You're humming. Not only that, you're humming the same bloody song over and over and over again!" Newkirk gave the yarn another tug, but this time he pulled so much off that it instantly became tangled. "And now look what you made me do!"
"So who are you, Glenn Miller?" Carter retorted.
"Glenn Miller doesn't sing, you idiot; he's an orchestra leader!"
"And besides, they say that Monsieur Miller is a polite, soft-spoken man." Le Beau gave Newkirk a look of disgust and turned back to the stove, quickly stirring the contents of the pot before slamming the lid onto it.
"Hey, lay off of Newkirk," Kinch stepped in. "Carter's humming gets a bit much for all of us once in awhile. That constant Mary Sunshine in the middle of this freezing cold weather—it's enough to drive anyone crazy." He shook his head. "And besides, you wouldn't want the knit-wit there to get mixed up counting his knits and his purls."
Newkirk tossed the yarn onto the table and stood up. "Oh that's right funny there, Kinch. Right funny. So tell me, what third-rate music hall did you get that line out of?"
Kinch slammed his hands down onto the table and came to stand tall over Newkirk. "If you've got something to tell me, Newkirk, then say it to my face. What are you insinuating?"
"Insinuatin'? Just exactly what do you think I'm insinuatin' here?" Newkirk put his hands on his hips and fixed the American with an angry stare. "Well, go on then. Let's hear it."
Carter jumped up and tried to move himself in between the two, who were dangerously close to each other. "Hey—hey, fellas, I think we need to just calm down for a minute, huh?" he started. "I mean, we never talk to each other like th—"
"Stay out of it, Andrew," Kinch said, never taking his eyes off Newkirk. "This is between him and me."
"Right. Shove off, Carter, before you get hurt."
"You think you're really strong enough, Newkirk?" Kinch asked.
"Strong enough for what?"
A sudden voice from behind them froze all the men in place. Le Beau and Carter looked over to see Hogan emerging from his quarters, his robe tied tightly around him, his hair looking slightly tousled from sleep. The ruckus in the barracks had obviously woken him up. He came all the way into the common room, stopping right next to where Kinch and Newkirk had faced off. He looked from one staring man to the other. "Strong enough for what?" he repeated. "What's going on out here?" No one answered. "Newkirk?" Not a look in his direction. "Kinch?" The American only blinked. Hogan's eyes flew to the others. "Carter?"
Carter looked at Hogan, swallowed hard, and looked away, shuffling his feet nervously even though he kept his silence. Hogan raised an eyebrow and let out a breath, then straightened. "Look, I want an answer. You can cut the tension in here with a knife. What's going on?"
Finally Kinch broke eye contact with Newkirk and moved away slowly, grabbing his diary and heading for his bunk. "Nothing, Colonel. We just didn't see eye to eye there for a minute."
Hogan looked from Kinch to Newkirk and back again. "I can see that," he said, letting the silence hang in the air. Hogan's voice signaled a general call to the all men in the small hut. "Okay, fellas, listen up. It's going to be a long, hard winter, and if we start infighting, we're never gonna make it to spring. This kind of tension is just what the Nazis want. If they can break us, they win. And I didn't come all this way just to let a bit of cold weather destroy what we've accomplished." Hogan watched Newkirk and Kinch for a minute before adding, "Did you?"
Newkirk took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he shook his head. "Look, Kinch... mate... I didn't mean anything by what I said, right?"
Kinch shook his head and glanced at Hogan sheepishly. "Yeah, well, I stepped over the line, too." He came back around the table and held out his hand to Newkirk. "I'm sorry, man."
Newkirk smiled and took the hand in a firm grip, bringing his free hand up to rest on Kinch's shoulder. "So am I. Let's save it for the Krauts next time, shall we?"
Hogan nodded approvingly, and Carter grinned as the two shook hands. "Boy, that's a relief! I thought you two were really gonna go—" He caught Hogan's suspicious look out of the corner of his eye and closed his mouth quickly.
Kinch cleared his throat and turned to Le Beau over at the stove. "So what are you making there, Louis?" he asked.
Le Beau smiled and took the lid off his pot. "A beautiful chicken soup with just a touch of garlic and spices."
Kinch considered. "Why just a touch?"
"Because we are in a prison camp in Germany—where do you expect me to get the condiments I need?"
Newkirk shook his head and smiled. "For that matter, where'd you get the chicken?"
Hogan laughed, and the men relaxed and got back to the business of surviving together.
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Boy, you know, sometimes I wonder if Colonel Hogan can see things before they happen. I just can't ever figure out how his timing is always so perfect. And it was just in time today—I was hoping he'd show up somehow, even though I know he was asleep. And he did.
I guess I'd better explain myself—I'm not much better on paper than I am in person. Anyway, we all went out on a work detail to get firewood today, and everyone was pretty beat by the time we got back. For some reason Colonel Hogan insisted on chopping wood with us—I think he felt bad about us having to fill the Germans' truck first—and I never saw a man work so hard! Well, he was asleep on his feet when we got back to camp, so Louis pushed him to bed. Boy, the Colonel must have been tired because he never usually goes without a fight, at least not when the rest of us are still around. And Louis hadn't even made dinner!
Anyway, things started getting pretty hot around the barracks. Everyone started getting what my grandmother used to call "persnickety," and getting angry at each other for all sorts of things that on a normal day no one would really care about, at least they wouldn't admit it. And then Kinch and Newkirk really got mad and I got real quiet because I could see a showdown coming, and it wasn't going to be good.
And right when I thought one of them might actually hit the other… out comes Colonel Hogan from his office. He asked everybody what was going on, and no one wanted to answer, me included. Finally Kinch said something about them not seeing eye to eye, and the Colonel reminded us that we need to stick together in the cold weather or the Krauts will have exactly the kinds of prisoners they keep telling everyone they have—you know, the kind with low morale and who are broken and really down. I mean everyone gets like that once in awhile, but we have a real reason for staying here and so it doesn't usually get quite as bad. But it did tonight, boy, and the Colonel knew it somehow—even though he'd been asleep!—and he stopped it as fast as he could. We're really lucky to have Colonel Hogan with us.
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I got angry at my friends tonight. I did not want to admit it, since it is why le Colonel started us writing in these books in the first place. But he was right. We are all getting edgy and finally it showed.
We had a wood-cutting detail today for the coming cold winter. Kommandant Klink was being difficile and told le Colonel that the prisoners could have whatever wood was left over after we filled the truck belonging to the guards. Colonel Hogan was angry, but he agreed. It is humiliating for him to have to bow down to that Boche cochon. But he did it because he knows what the prisoners need to survive in these conditions, and he will do it. It is not right for a man like Colonel Hogan to have to be dishonored in front of a man like Klink.
Colonel Hogan was so upset about the conditions Klink set that he took on the work with us, instead of supervising as he is expected to do. He worked very, very hard and did not stop until it was time to return to camp. Poor Colonel, he was so tired when we got back. I insisted he go to bed, and for once he did not argue. I think it was the shame that finally wore him out; he tried to work it out by chopping the wood—but when you have to degrade yourself constantly, cutting down some trees will hardly make a difference.
En plus de cela, everyone started arguing, and very quickly we were all very upset sans cause. I was arguing with Newkirk and Kinch, Carter was arguing with Newkirk, it was getting out of control. Pierre, of course, had the loudest mouth—but when Kinch gets angry you had better stay out of his way. He may be quiet, but he is just as dangerous in his silence as Pierre is in his shouting.
And then Colonel Hogan came out of his office. It is strange how just le Colonel's presence can draw us back into line. Everyone stopped, and he asked us what was happening, and soon it was all over. So much for the rest he needed. But I think seeing us make up did more good for him than all the wood-chopping in the world. But he is right… we need to be careful. What happened tonight does not bode well for the future, if we are not careful.
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Ruddy wood-cutting detail. I knew somehow that I wouldn't be getting out of it. I didn't volunteer, mind you, but true to form, the gov'nor got me off my bunk and out into the cold. Well everyone had a bad day, didn't they? The work was bloody hard and we were all feeling a little humiliated for the Colonel. After all, he's the one who has to make Klink feel like he's a great man all the time, and that wears even the strongest man down.
Well this morning the Bald Eagle decided that if we were gonna get any wood, we had to fill the guards' truck first. Ruddy Kraut. For an idiot, he sure comes up with some real winners once in awhile. The Colonel was mad as a hornet's nest at that one, but he couldn't get the conditions changed, so out we went to cut wood for the bleedin' enemy and hoped we'd have enough strength left to get some for ourselves.
Hogan worked right along side us today, cutting wood with a single-mindedness that makes me doubt his sanity. He didn't need to, you know; as senior POW all he's supposed to do is supervise. But he was so angry at the Krauts I think he needed to swing an axe for awhile, and if nothing else it wore him out so he didn't have the energy to stay mad.
But the rest of us sure did, and that's where we nearly got into strife. Long day, cold night, Louis's cooking, Carter's helping with me wool, Kinch is writing in his diary. Carter's humming and Louis's pots are banging and Kinch asks him—well, complains at him, really—to stop. Then all hell breaks loose and before you know it, I'm practically shouting at Carter to stop his ever-loving humming, Kinch is angry with me and defending me, even Andrew's hair is standing on end, and you'd never know any of us are friends. We're arguing for the sake of arguing—picking on and defending the same people in the same breath. And then Kinch and I go almost to the point of no return—
And out comes Colonel Hogan from his room. You'd swear the man has an antenna on the top of his head. I was sure he was asleep, and all of a sudden he's in the room, checking up on us and asking us what's going on. He didn't have to ask; I'm sure he knew exactly what was happening. But it's one trick the gov'nor does well: if we have to admit that we were acting like right idiots, we're more likely to be ashamed of it, and less likely to continue, aren't we? Well, it worked for me: as soon as the Colonel started asking questions, I felt a real heel, and Kinch did, too. Neither of us meant anything; we were just stepping over the line because we were mad at other things. Funny thing is, I didn't realize how mad I was until I had something to fight. Must have been looking for something… and Kinch, too.
