3: Painkillers

"I really don't want to take them, Erich."

Corporal Kielholz glanced over at where Corporal Langenscheidt was sitting on his bunk, holding a bottle of tablets. "You know you have to, though," Kielholz said. "You just had your tonsils out. I don't want to see you in pain."

"They make me feel… fuzzy, and it reminds me too much of after I had my injury in the plane crash." Langenscheidt looked away from the bottle. "I can find another way to manage it. I feel fine now."

"But you probably will not in a few hours. Look—" Kielholz knelt in front of him, "Klink is giving you the rest of the week to rest. You don't have to interact with anyone if you don't want to."

"I would rather recover outside of camp."

"You hated being in the hospital."

"I meant somewhere other than camp or a hospital."

"I will be with you the whole time, I promise. Just… promise me you will take these when you hurt." Kielholz understood completely why Langenscheidt didn't want to take his painkillers—after all, Kielholz had been on them as well, and he knew the fuzzy feeling Langenscheidt was describing. The feeling that his brain was enveloped in a fog, and no matter how hard Kielholz would search for information or memories, they were well-hidden in the fog. Langenscheidt had been dealing with occasional fogginess ever since a crash in training, where he suffered a head injury. He was declared unfit for active service, but was well enough to be sent to a prisoner-of-war camp for guard duty. His forgetfulness and fuzzy confusion had become less and less common, but was still a bother at times, and he didn't want it coming back.

"I will try my best," Langenscheidt replied. "Not sure I can make any promises, though."


Sergeant Kinchloe raised an eyebrow as he listened to Kielholz while they stood outside Barracks Two. "You can't be serious. Do you have any idea how hard it would be to get honey?"

"I know, but Karl needs something to soothe his throat and even though we talked about this, I do not think he is going to take his painkillers," Kielholz replied. "Honey is the best thing I can think of that would help. It has helped me in the past."

Kinchloe rubbed his chin. "We might not be able to get honey, but we do have something right here in camp that might help."

"What?"

"Chamomile tea. There's some in Klink's quarters."

"We already stole cocoa from his quarters. Granted, we only took a couple of teaspoons, but he will certainly notice if some teabags go missing."

A sly, mischievous smile crossed Kinchloe's face. "Give us an hour. I have an idea."

Kielholz watched Kinchloe jog back to Barracks Two. He wasn't sure what the American's idea was, but part of him didn't want to know, lest Colonel Klink found out.

While waiting for Kinchloe, Kielholz went back to the guard barracks to check on Langenscheidt. His friend was asleep, and Kielholz gave a sigh, relieved that Langenscheidt wasn't hurting at the moment. He pulled a chair over to the bunk, and as he sat down, the door flew open. Sergeant Schultz marched up to Kielholz. "Corporal Kielholz! You were supposed to be on patrol two minutes ago! What are you doing?"

Kielholz held a finger to his lips. "Karl is sleeping!"

"Oh." Schultz held his own finger to his lips. "Sorry. Corporal, you were supposed to be on patrol—"

"I know, Sergeant, but—"

"No. Commandant Klink let you watch Corporal Langenscheidt all morning. It is time to get back to work. Let Langenscheidt get some rest."

Kielholz sighed. "Yes, Sergeant." He adjusted his helmet strap and picked up his rifle, which had been leaning against the side of the bunk. He took one last look at Langenscheidt before following Schultz out of the barracks.

As the two headed over to where four other guards were waiting at attention, Kielholz spotted Colonel Hogan and Corporal Newkirk walking up the steps to Klink's quarters. Schultz saw them as well, and began jogging over to them. "Colonel Hogan! Colonel Hogan, what are you doing? You did not receive permission to go into the commandant's office!"

"We're not going in his office, Schultz," Hogan said. "We're going in his kitchen."

"Jolly joke. You are not going in his kitchen! Get back to your barracks."

"Alright, but it will be you going to the Russian Front when Klink sees his kitchen wasn't cleaned."

"The commandant did not tell me he needed his kitchen cleaned."

"He asked the colonel directly this time," Newkirk said.

"I don't believe you. You are trying to make funny business and I will not let it happen."

"Would you like me to watch them?" Kielholz spoke up.

"You were assigned to patrol, Corporal, and that is what you will do."

Hogan's expression changed when he made eye contact with Kielholz, who was trying to hold back a torrent of anger. Miraculously, Kielholz swallowed his anger, and muttered, "Karl is not going to take his painkillers from the hospital. He needs something else, something that isn't a pill that will make him feel foggy. Sergeant Kinchloe suggested chamomile tea, and Klink is the only person with chamomile tea in camp."

Schultz sighed, and looked at Hogan and Newkirk. "I see nothing! Nothing!" He turned to Kielholz, shaking his head before walking away.

Kielholz bit his lip, looking at Hogan with his face red with embarrassment, then the ground. "I am sorry, Colonel, I should have let you handle that."

"Don't worry about it," Hogan replied. He gestured for Newkirk to follow him, and they disappeared into the building.


"You did not have to do this, Erich," Langenscheidt said before taking a sip of the freshly-brewed chamomile tea. He was still in his bunk, propped up by not just his pillow, but Kielholz's as well.

"You stole some of Klink's cocoa for me. I figured it was time to return the favor," Kielholz replied with a grin.

"I would imagine teabags would be easier to notice missing than a couple of teaspoons of cocoa."

"Sergeant Kinchloe had an idea on how to deal with that, though he didn't say what that idea was." Kielholz jumped a little when he heard someone slam a door outside, then looked out a window to see Klink running from his office, shouting, "Who put dirt and grass in my tea?! Hogan!"

Langenscheidt put his cup to his lips, resisting a laugh. "I guess that was the plan."