17: "I Need You to Pull Over!"
Usually, driving the prisoners to a work detail was a delight for Langenscheidt, especially if Kielholz was allowed to accompany him. It gave them a chance to get out of camp, and what made that day a little more special was the fact that the autumn colors were at their most vibrant.
However, the road to the farm and back was littered with sharp dips and bumps. Langenscheidt had been on this particular road before with Schultz and Fleischer, but Kielholz hadn't yet. There was a reason Langenscheidt had a light breakfast that morning, and although he tried to warn Kielholz ahead of time, Kielholz stubbornly refused.
On their way back to Stalag 13, Langenscheidt glanced over to see Kielholz staring off into space, looking a little green. "Are you alright, Erich? You look like me back at your brother's this past summer."
"I'm fine," Kielholz said flatly.
Langenscheidt looked ahead, focusing on driving. In the corner of his eye, he could see Kielholz shifting uncomfortably and holding his stomach. "Are you sure?"
No response, other than a murmured, "Fine."
"If you insist." Langenscheidt had known Kielholz far too long to actually believe his friend was "fine." He's going to throw up in the truck. Klink will make him clean it up, and then he's going to complain about it… but he did bring it on himself.
Kielholz was looking more and more queasy as the drive continued. Eventually, he moaned, "Karl? I need you to pull over."
Part of Langenscheidt wondered if it would be worth it to teach Kielholz a lesson, but he also knew Kielholz would have slammed on the brakes by now to let him do his business. Sighing, Langenscheidt came to a slow stop. In the back of the truck, he heard Newkirk shout, "Why're we stopping?"
"Erich is going to be sick!" Langenscheidt called back.
"Oh, bloody figures!"
Ignoring him, Langenscheidt turned to Kielholz, giving him a frustrated expression. "Alright. Go on. Go throw up in the woods. It's what you deserve for not listening to me this morning."
Kielholz gave him a sad look beneath his nausea, and slunk out of the truck, disappearing into the woods.
A few minutes passed. Langenscheidt looked at his watch. He didn't eat that much for breakfast. What's taking so long? His annoyance swiftly morphed into concern. Perhaps I was a bit too harsh with him. He probably didn't think he was that sensitive to being in a vehicle on a rough road.
He looked at his watch again several minutes later. Alright. He's been gone too long. Something's happened. Langenscheidt got out of the truck, and jogged around to the back.
"What's going on, Langenscheidt?" Colonel Hogan asked.
"Kielholz disappeared," Langenscheidt replied. "I let him go in the woods to throw up and he hasn't returned."
"Maybe he needed to take a leak as well," Newkirk muttered in the back. "Although if he's been gone this long then he's probably also taking a s—"
Carter roughly elbowed him. "Not helpful."
"Can you please help me find him?" Langenscheidt asked. "I can't exactly leave you alone in the truck."
"Alright," Hogan sighed, turning to the others. "Let's go look for Kielholz."
Langenscheidt led the way as the group trekked through the woods, occasionally stopping to cup his hands around his mouth and shout, "Erich!" at the top of his lungs. Each time, he got no response, and it worried him more. Was he kidnapped? He had heard of the Underground plucking unsuspecting German soldiers and officers in the woods and along the less-traveled roads in that area. What would they even do with him? His blood ran cold. Interrogate him? Beat him? Leave him for dead on the side of the road?
"Hey, Langenscheidt!" Carter called. There was a disgusted look on his face. "I found Kielholz's… breakfast."
Langenscheidt jogged over. "I don't think this will tell us much about which direction he went."
"Actually, it will," Kinchloe said. "I found some 'extra' in the grass heading west. Looks like he's heading back toward Stalag 13."
"Well, that's better than what I was afraid of." Not wanting to upset Klink, Langenscheidt led the prisoners back to the truck. He cursed to himself as he continued driving to Stalag 13, hoping and praying that Kielholz stayed on his path to camp.
Kielholz was about to cross the road from the woods to camp as the truck rolled up to the gates. He looked less green than before, and Langenscheidt smiled at him, but when they locked eyes, it was clearly apparent that Kielholz wasn't happy with him at all.
The group entered camp looking as though nothing happened. Kielholz kept quiet until Colonel Klink dismissed them, but as soon as the prisoners headed back to their barracks, he turned to Langenscheidt, who promptly exploded.
"Why did you run off? You had me afraid that you were going to be kidnapped by the Underground! Don't you ever do that to me again!"
Kielholz didn't respond. He looked torn between being embarrassed and being angry. "After everything I've done to help you, you yelled at me when I needed help."
"I'm sorry for yelling at you. I just want to know why you ran away."
"Because I was angry and didn't want to yell at you. I know I made a mistake. Did I yell at you when you deliberately hid the fact that you were sick on our trip to my brother's home over the summer?"
"No. You did point out that I ruined the trip, though."
"I did, and I apologized. Honestly, it was nice to just spend time with you there, even if we weren't doing much of anything."
"True." Langenscheidt looked up at Kielholz. "Do you forgive me, then?"
Kielholz nodded, then a sly grin crossed his face. "Next time, I'll do it deliberately if Fleischer comes with us, and puke on his perfectly shiny boots."
"You really think that's a good idea? He might just snap your neck for that."
"Oh, it's a really, really bad idea, but his reaction will be worth it."
