1: "Do You Know How to Take Care of A Sick Person?"

Such a question seemed ridiculously silly, but it was a question that Corporal Kielholz wanted to ask. He genuinely wanted to know, as it was something he hadn't had any experience with.

Who better to ask than one of the medics in the infirmary?

Kielholz put on a straight face as he entered the infirmary. He looked around the large room, seeing a combination of Allied and German medics working over patients and talking quietly among themselves. Nervously, he approached American Sergeant Wilson. "Good morning, Sergeant."

"'Morning," Wilson muttered. "You need something, Kielholz?"

"Yes, actually. Do you know how to take care of a sick person?"

An incredulous look came over Wilson's face. "What?"

"I know it sounds silly, but Karl is not feeling well, and I know you all are busy—"

"How bad is he?"

"He was complaining about pressure in his sinuses when we got up this morning. His throat is sore. He has a headache, and he seemed a bit feverish."

"So, sinus infection. I was worried you were going to say he had something that required him to come here to the infirmary."

Kielholz shook his head. "No. I… offered to take care of him and I don't know how."

"What did your mother do for you when you were sick?"

"My siblings and I were always given hot soup and tea with honey. Things we can't get here."

"Go talk to Corporal LeBeau. If you're nice, he'll make soup for Langenscheidt."

"But he hates all of us except for Schultz."

"That's why I said 'if you're nice,' buddy."

As nervously as he did in the infirmary, Kielholz approached Barracks Two, hearing loud talking and laughter inside. He knocked on the door, heard some scrambling, followed by Hogan opening the door. "You need something, Kielholz?"

"I came to ask LeBeau if he could make soup. Karl isn't feeling well," Kielholz replied.

"Do you know how to make soup yourself?" LeBeau called from inside the barracks. There was a greatly annoyed look on his face.

Kielholz flinched upon seeing LeBeau's expression. "Not really."

"Well, I was not captured to become everyone's personal chef in this camp. Come here, I will show you how so you don't ask again."

"Louis, you are everyone's personal chef when Klink has company over," Newkirk said with a cigarette between his teeth, not looking up from the cards in his hands.

"Only because Colonel Hogan asks me to!" LeBeau waved Kielholz over. "You know how to boil water, right? I do not have to show you?"

"No." Kielholz didn't want to admit he was becoming more and more terrified of the little French airman.

"Good." LeBeau looked over at Hogan. "Where is Commandant Klink today?"

"He's in Hammelburg," Hogan replied. "Why?"

"I want to use his kitchen to teach Kielholz. More space."

"We can't use his quarters without him there!" Kielholz said.

"It's not like he'll know. As long as you clean up after yourselves, you'll be fine." Hogan gave him a sly, lopsided grin, then gestured for LeBeau and Kielholz to follow him. He nudged Kielholz ahead when they approached the guard at Klink's door, Private Leistner.

What have I gotten myself into? I am helping Karl, that's what. Kielholz straightened his back as he walked up the steps to Leistner. "I am… taking Colonel Hogan and Corporal LeBeau to clean the commandant's quarters."

"Didn't the prisoners clean Klink's quarters yesterday?" Leistner asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, but you know how Klink is. He wants everything spotless for when he returns from Hammelburg."

Leistner shrugged, then opened the door. "You have a point."


Within the next hour, Kielholz had put together a simple, but delicious-smelling chicken soup, which LeBeau referred to as "passable." After covering it—and taking Klink's oven mitts—Kielholz went to the guard barracks, where Langenscheidt was lying somewhat propped up in his bunk with a book.

"I brought you something," Kielholz said.

Langenscheidt closed his book and tried to sit up. "What is it? It smells pretty good."

"It's chicken soup," Kielholz replied. "LeBeau showed me how to make it."

"Should I be worried about it being poisoned, then?"

"No. I made this batch myself, don't worry. How are you feeling?"

"No better, no worse. I feel like I have lead weights in my head."

"Do you feel like you can eat? Do you want another blanket?" Kielholz yanked his blanket down from the bunk above. "Have mine. Do you want a hot water bottle? A shoulder rub? A—"

"Erich, you don't have to fuss. I will be fine." Langenscheidt gave him a confused look. "Why are you fussing anyway?"

"I have never taken care of a sick person before. That was always my mother's responsibility, and she doted on us."

"Well… I do not want you to mother me. I want you to just be you, and not fuss. It doesn't help me if you are stressed and fussing."

Kielholz nodded a little, giving a heavy sigh. "I will do my best. You can still have my blanket, though."

"Erich, no—" Langenscheidt sighed as well when Kielholz draped the blanket over him, but allowed himself a small smile.


Author's Note: I did state on the HH forum about a week ago that I was going to back out of Sicktember, but motivation did come back and I'm not going to force myself to make every entry super long. It's something to have fun with and exercise writing muscles.