Emanations of Hate

Chapter 6

It was all a joke at first, that was the thing. A series of practical jokes, had to be. Over the next few days strange things began happening in Barracks 2. Just little things, but weird. Things going missing, and then turning up in odd places, for instance. A pack of playing cards was found glued to the underside of an empty bunk. A letter Olsen had been writing to his girlfriend was found sewn into various pairs of the men's socks. Lebeau's best knife went missing and was finally found, after nearly an hour of increasingly impatient searching, when Baker happened to glance up and spotted it thrust into the ridge beam of the barrack's roof. Kindly climbing up to pull it out, Baker wondered how anyone had got it up there in the first place.

The obvious culprits were Carter and Newkirk. The only problem with that idea was that neither one of them were ever around to enjoy their prank. Still, each man considered, it had to be them. Everyone knew that the former magician loved a good trick, and everyone knew that Carter would always go along with him.

But somehow, no one thought of broaching the subject with the absent pair. It was as if they could hear the thought in the back of their brains, but it never occurred to anyone in their conscious minds to speak to them about it. Kinch especially would be overcome by a feeling that there was something he should be doing something about, something he should be investigating that had to do with Carter and Newkirk, but then his thoughts would simply stop and go no further. In a clear moment he might think that he needed to pay attention to them, but then there was no follow-up thought for action. Beyond this there was a casual feeling of unconcern, only briefly interrupted by sudden moments of overwhelming anxiety when he knew that something was terribly wrong and he couldn't comprehend why he was unable to react to it.

For the others it was almost as if Carter and Newkirk had been erased from their minds. They paid no more attention to the pair's presence than their absence. They took no notice of any differences in speech or manners. If asked, say by visitors from other barracks, such as Wilson who came to unwrap Carter's wrist, they'd answer that the two were working on a project; but they replied by rote, waving off the question while pretending to be engrossed in some chore or other, sparing no actual thought on their strangely behaving colleagues. A fact which none of them found odd. After all, the Colonel always had projects for his men to do.

And then there were the "ghosts". They all knew it was Carter and Newkirk of course, that was the joke, but they'd tease each other with the idea that the "spooks of Stalag 13" were out to get the unwary among them. Foster, already seen as openly believing in the supernatural, took the brunt of it and the good-natured Englishman was starting to get peeved. He may have believed in the idea in general terms, but even he didn't truly believe that his own barracks was haunted. As the men went about their more mundane housekeeping chores such as sweeping the floor and darning their socks, they started to embellish on the idea to pass the time, and, as it always does, the mention of ghosts quickly turned into a story.

Soon the story evolved; the missing objects were being taken by the angry spirits of the last war's defeated foes, seeking revenge upon the Allied air men for being on their home soil. It was just as quickly altered again for the benefit of Sergeant Schultz, who came in one afternoon, and despite previous declarations, managed to make quite a dent in Lebeau's strudel as he listened. When Olsen gleefully told him the story, with energetic additions from the others, the ghosts were still from the first war, but became the vengeful spectres of Germany's enemies, enraged at their having started a second conflict. Poor Schultz, who had fought in the Great War, came the closest to being frightened by these stories. He tried to laugh with the others, sure they were pulling his leg, but Lebeau noticed that he put his fork down and could eat no more of his favourite dessert. Peering at him closely, the barrack's chef saw that the large man had gone a bit wide-eyed.

"Don't tell me you're scared Schultzie!" Lebeau ribbed him.

"No, of course I am not scared. I am the head guard of the toughest prisoner of war camp in all of Germany," Schultz protested, then continued in a quieter voice after looking around nervously, "But you boys should not be talking of such things. Maybe you have poltergeists in your barracks!"

"Poltergeists? What are poltergeists?" asked a voice from behind him, making the tense Schultz jerk with surprise as Hogan entered the barracks.

"Oh, it's you Colonel Hogan! Poltergeists are noisy, mischievous spirits. They get into everything and play all sorts of tricks." Schultz glanced around and then lowered his voice to whisper a warning, "It is very bad to have them around. You should not anger them by making fun."

Hogan grimaced. This "ghost" business was wearing thin. "Worse to have around than Hochstetter and his Gestapo goons?" he asked.

Schultz took his point, but still flashed the American airman a reproving frown. After he left Hogan looked at his men.

"Alright, I think this had better come to an end. I know you're all just fooling around, and I know sometimes it'd be handy to have a fast way of getting the big fella out of here, but guys, we need him sometimes. We need to have him willing to come in here and willing to listen. Besides, once people get a story stuck in their heads and they keep repeating it, sooner or later they come to believe it. Sure, it's a joke now, but soon every single little thing will start to get attributed to the "ghost" and then no one will want to do their work because the damn place is haunted. So, we're all going to cut this nonsense out, right?"

"Yes sir," his chastised men agreed.

"And there are no such things as ghosts."

"And there are no such things as ghosts," all of his men repeated, even the ones who would have liked to have kept an open mind. Everyone knew by their Colonel's tone that only one answer was wanted.

"Fine. Now maybe things can get back to normal…" he broke off.

A pen had slowly started to roll across the table. Stunned eyes followed it as it progressed from one end of the table to the other and then fell off and rolled half way to Colonel Hogan's door.

"Okay, okay, that's nothing. Do you hear me?" Hogan cautioned his men. "It's probably just Carter downstairs blasting something and causing some minor vibrations that came up through the floor and shook the table."

"I think Carter's outside sir."

"Baker, I don't want to hear it. If it wasn't Carter then it was just a heavy truck driving by or something. The point is, I don't want this to be an excuse to start up with all of this ghost business again."

"No sir!" his men agreed as one. That ominous tone, the one that they could all recognize by now, was starting to edge it's way into their CO's voice, meaning that it was definitely not the time to argue.

"Right, I'm glad we've all agreed…"

This time it was his own door opening that interrupted him. They all stared at it as it then closed again.

"Probably a draft," Kinch offered.

"That's right," Hogan said. "And this is exactly what I was talking about before. We've been joking around about this subject for a couple of days and now we're starting to get jumpy for no reason. So, repeat after me: There are no ghosts here."

"There are no ghosts here," his men dutifully repeated.

"There are no such things as ghosts," Hogan stated.

"There are no such things as ghosts."

Hogan's door creaked open again.

"And none of you saw that door opening."

"And none of us saw that door opening."

With a high, piercing squeal, the coffeepot receiver in Hogan's office clicked on and the men all started at the sudden sound of Schultz and Klink talking to each other in Klink's office. The front door of the barracks suddenly swung open with a sharp bang and they jumped again. Hogan dashed into his quarters to shut the receiver off before any wandering guard outside could overhear.

As soon as he walked back into the main room it clicked on again.

He went back and turned it off.

It came on yet again.

"Oh, I give up!" he moaned, and then he glared at each of his men. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all of this, but right now I don't care if we find it or not! I'm warning each and every one of you, if I hear one word about ghosts, ghouls, banshees or poltergeists, you'll be on KP till the end of the next war. And that'll just be to start!" With this threat, he stormed off into his own quarters.

The men all looked at each other and then turned to the tall radio man.

"Kinch?" Lebeau asked.

"Guys, I think we'd just better get back to work and try and keep out of his way!" And saying that, he lead by example and fled down into the tunnel. Wisely, the others were less than a second behind him.


Later that afternoon Kinch and Lebeau were sitting outside the barracks when Kinch noticed Carter and Newkirk talking intently to Schultz across the compound. Or Carter was; Newkirk was hanging back a step. Again, that pesky feeling of anxiety spoke up at the back of his brain.

My God, when was the last time Newkirk said anything? Three days? Four?

Once more he seemed to hit that blank wall. A numbness descended on his mind and for a second he had no thoughts at all.

He shook the fog from his head and considered it a minute. No, that's ludicrous. Someone would have noticed if Peter hadn't spoken in four days! I would have noticed! Still…that jumpy, little itch wouldn't leave.

He frowned and watched the three men, noting a vacant look cross Schultz's face just before the pair left him. Poking a dozing Lebeau, he gestured for the Frenchman to look at them as they strode over to talk to Langenscheidt.

"Do you think there's anything different about those two?"

"Non, just Carter following Newkirk around like always."

Kinch sat up straighter and stared at them.

"What is it Kinch?"

"Something you said Louie…" Kinch strained to figure out what was bothering him about that picture. "That's it! Look at them, look!"

A confused Lebeau looked. "I don't see anything wrong."

"Watch. Who's in the lead? Who's doing all the talking? And I don't mean jabbering, I mean who's in the lead. It's Carter. Carter isn't following Newkirk, Newkirk's following him!"

Lebeau turned back to watch the two men again. He shrugged, "It's unusual, but what of it?"

"No! Don't you get it? There's something…" he paused. "Damnit! Why can't I think?"

"Kinch, are you alright?"

The taller man sighed with exasperation and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Louie, I just know there's something wrong but for the life of me I can't…Ouch!" Something had hit him on the top of his head. It felt like an acorn. "What was that?"

"I don't know; I think it fell over there." Lebeau got up and examined the ground a few feet away. "Here it is!" he cried, bending down to pick it up. Kinch saw him gawk at it. "Kinch! I think it is off the radio!"

"What! Let me see." Lebeau handed it to him. He was right; it was a small knob, definitely off of the radio in the tunnel. "How the hell…?"

"Kinch, you don't think…I mean, you really don't think there's…"

"Louie, don't even think it. I've got to tell Colonel Hogan somebody's fooling around with the radio and that's going to rile him enough. If he hears you blaming it on ghosts he's liable to go through the roof!"

"You don't think someone's really doing it on purpose do you?"

"What other explanation could there be? Really? Unless you're prepared to go to the Colonel and actually swear it's something supernatural."

"Non!" Lebeau shook his head, horrified at the thought.

"Maybe it's another joke."

"But who would do that? If one of the Boches had found that part - "

"I know, and when I find out who is messing around I'm going to wring their necks for being so stupid!" Hating himself for it, he glanced at the approaching Carter and Newkirk.

"Kinch no! They wouldn't do something like that! Both of them know better. Besides mon ami, we've been watching them talk to the guards all the way over there. How could they have done it?"

"I don't know. I'm going to go check the radio to make sure there are no more missing parts, and then I'm going to have to speak with the Colonel. Keep an eye on them will you?"

"Kinch…"

"Please Louie."

Lebeau reluctantly nodded and Kinch went inside.

"What was all that about?" Carter asked as he and Newkirk came up to the barracks.

Lebeau hated the idea of not being candid with his friends, but he felt that Kinch would not want him to say too much. "Another prank," was all he said. Quickly changing the subject, he asked Carter to help him start supper.

"No, I have something more important to do," Carter said sharply and strode past him without looking back. Newkirk followed him into the barracks.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Lebeau objected, "I want some help with supper and it's your turn!"

Carter kept heading towards the tunnel entrance as if he hadn't heard Lebeau. Angry, the smaller man grabbed the demolitions expert by the arm. Carter whipped round and fixed him with such a cold look that Lebeau actually found himself taking a step backwards. Just as quickly, he watched Carter's appearance transform into one of fiercely controlled fury.

Carter stepped up to him. "I believe that I said I had something more important to attend to. Do you have a problem with that Corporal?"

To his surprise, Lebeau discovered that he was unable to speak. Carter wrested his arm from Lebeau's grip and continued on into the tunnel while he could only stand there in shock.

For a moment he had actually been afraid of Carter.

Without a word of protest, and completely forgetting what Kinch had asked him to do, he started supper on his own.


Author's note: Thanks again to everyone who has been posting such great reviews! And just to let everyone else know, I've changed my account to allow anonymous reviews. (I'm an incredibly lazy person myself, and I have great sympathy for those of you who don't want to log on, but I've also turned into a review junkie so I'd love to hear from you!)