11: Psychogenic Fever/"I Might Be A Teeny-Tiny Bit Sick, But It's Fine"

Corporal Kielholz's head was heavy as he left the guard barracks a couple of mornings after Langenscheidt's hay fever began to subside. What will it be today? he thought. Regular day, or will I have to take care of Karl again?

He anticipated something going wrong while sitting in the mess hall, even as a much happier and healthier-looking Langenscheidt sat across from him, saying, "Good morning, Erich."

"Good morning," Kielholz replied. "How are you today?"

"Not sneezing all over the place for once."

"No headaches, stomach pains, or hacking coughs?"

"No. I guess I am having a bad year. I cannot recall the last time I was repeatedly ill like this."

"For all we know, a witch cursed you."

Langenscheidt frowned. "Is that possible?"

"I think so, but it takes a very bored and spiteful witch to do something like this."

"Well, I feel alright now. I don't think we have anything to worry about."

"For now."

"If anything, you seem to be a bit off today, Erich. Did you sleep alright?"

"I slept great." Kielholz squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his forehead when a dull ache surfaced. "I am ready for a normal day of doing absolutely nothing, getting berated by Klink, dealing with whatever shenanigans the prisoners get up to, and probably taking care of you again."

"Erich, I really am alright today. You seem… a bit frazzled. You have been spending a lot of time around me and surely you may have caught something I had. Why don't you go to the infirmary and get looked at?"

"No. I'm fine. I'm just tired." Kielholz looked down at his breakfast, and suddenly found he had no appetite.


Langenscheidt adjusted the strap of his helmet while approaching a group of prisoners playing baseball, fearing whatever bad luck was accompanying him would strike again and he would find himself flat on the ground with another head injury from being hit with a ball. Sergeant Kinchloe, wearing a beat-up baseball mitt, was squatting behind Sergeant Olson, who was getting some practice swings in with a wooden bat that badly needed to be replaced with all the cracks and splinters in it.

"Hey, Langenscheidt," Kinchloe said. "You need something?"

"I am not interrupting something, am I?" Langenscheidt asked.

"You're interrupting my swing," Olsen replied. "Just throw the ball, Carter!"

Sergeant Carter nodded before whipping the ball toward him. Langenscheidt dropped to the ground, shielding his head. He heard the hard slap of the ball hitting the mitt, and looked up to see Kinchloe holding the ball.

"Good swing, Olsen, but you missed it by a mile," he said. After tossing the ball back to Carter, Kinchloe gestured for the men to give him a minute, then turned to face Langenscheidt. "What is it?"

"It's about Erich. He's… He was acting strangely at breakfast, and I feel like it's partly my fault," Langenscheidt replied.

"He's been pretty worried about you over the last couple of months."

"I know. He shouldn't be."

"He cares about you a lot. Naturally, he's going to worry."

"I don't want him making himself sick in the process. That is what concerns me. I think he's actually worried himself sick."

"Did you tell him to go to the infirmary?"

"Yes, but he won't go. He said he is just tired."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You are friends with him. Maybe you can convince him."

"You would know better than anyone how stubborn Kielholz is."

"I do, but you are much more logical than I could ever be."

"If you put it that way, here's what you can try doing: tell him that you want him to go to the infirmary because it would help you."

"That… might actually work." Langenscheidt nodded a little. "I'll give it a try. Thank you." He turned and headed off to find Kielholz.

Kielholz's patrol route that day took him to the northwest edge of the camp fence. He was alone and looking distant. Langenscheidt strolled up to him, and gently tapped his shoulder. "Erich?"

"I'm busy," Kielholz said, turning to face Langenscheidt. His cheeks and nose were pinker than they were at breakfast.

"Busy? You… never mind. Um… Erich, please go to the infirmary. You don't look good and… it would make me feel better."

Kielholz let out a heavy sigh. "Look, maybe I am not feeling well, but I am far and away feeling much better than you. I can walk and talk and I don't feel like I'm going to throw up or sneeze on everything. I'll be alright. Besides, something could happen to you at any moment and I have to be there."

Langenscheidt swallowed past a growing sense of frustration. "Alright. Suit yourself, Erich, but let me know if you change your mind."


As sunset approached and began painting the changing trees a deeper shade of golden, Langenscheidt trailed the rest of the guards to the mess hall for supper. Before he reached the door, he heard Sergeant Schultz said, "Langenscheidt, where is Corporal Kielholz?"

"I don't know, Sergeant," Langenscheidt replied. "He is not on patrol?"

"No, and he is not in the infirmary, either."

"I can go check the barracks."

"Go, and make it quick."

Langenscheidt dashed off to the guard barracks, worried about what he might find. He opened the door, finding the barracks were getting darker as the sun continued to set. At first, it looked like no one was inside, but then Langenscheidt saw a shape in Kielholz's bunk.

He turned on one of the overhead lamps. Kielholz covered his face and moaned, "That hurts."

Langenscheidt frowned as he walked over. "Are you alright?"

Kielholz's face was redder than before. His eyes were bloodshot, and his breathing was somewhat labored. "I am fine," he said.

"No, you're not. You look awful." Langenscheidt put his hand on Kielholz's forehead. "You have a fever."

"I'm very cold, though."

"Can you get up? You can sleep in my bunk. It will be easier for you."

It took some effort, but Kielholz was eventually able to climb down and crawl into Langenscheidt's bunk, looking as though he just finished running around the camp several times.

Langenscheidt pulled the blanket from Kielholz's bunk. "Here. You did this for me. I should return the favor."

Kielholz didn't respond. He nestled under the blankets, murmuring, "I need to sleep."

"Go ahead and sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you."

"However, I will not steal Klink's beverages or Burkhalter's pajamas for you."

"Would you put that vapor rub on me?"

"Only if you wanted it, and I know you don't like the smell."

"Right." Kielholz lay still for a moment, then held out his hand. "Just don't go anywhere."

Langenscheidt took his hand and gently squeezed. "I just said I wouldn't."