The new prisoner finally left Colonel Klink's office under heavy guard. He'd survived the plane crash but had run straight into a patrol of Krauts which had landed him in Stalag 13 and after the tedious interrogation by the idiotic Kommandant; Private James Harris was ready to go to sleep after such an exhausting night. During the interrogation, he'd been introduced to the Senior POW Officer who had seemed genuinely nice and he was thankful for that, as his own commanding officer in the RAF had not been at all nice. The guards deposited him in barracks three where he found an empty bunk ready for him amid the other sleeping prisoners that didn't even look up when he walked in. As he crawled gratefully under the covers and stretched out, he looked around curiously at the other prisoners as they slept. They didn't appear too thin or pale as he had imagined them to be. They actually seemed very well fed for prisoners. As Harris closed his eyes to sleep, he thought about his fiancé back in London and hoped the news of his capture hadn't reached her yet.
It seemed like a second that he'd had his eyes closed as Harris was woken into the freezing pre-dawn air to the shouts of the Krauts ordering them outside for roll call. Private Harris struggled out of bed and nearly toppled over as he forced his feet into his boots and staggered out of the door with the rest of the prisoners. The other prisoners were a varied collection of allied soldiers all wearing different uniforms. They jostled him as he found a place near the end of the formation. He looked around at the large collection of prisoners standing outside each block. He recognized Colonel Hogan; the Senior POW Officer standing with the prisoners from barracks two and felt more at ease now that he knew at least one person in camp.
Kommandant Klink came out of his office and stood blearily on his front steps, looking more asleep than the prisoners who waited expectantly as the guards made their counts of everyone.
"Herr Kommandant, all present and accounted for!" stated a very round guard who looked very pleased with this information.
"Very good. Dismissed" came the reply from the sleepy Kommandant who turned quickly and disappeared into his office.
The prisoners moved slowly back to file into their barracks and catch up on whatever sleep they could. Private Harris turned to follow the others when someone snagged his elbow. Turning he found he was being greeted by Colonel Hogan and a small group of allied soldiers.
"Welcome to Stalag 13!" said Colonel Hogan as he grabbed Harris's hand and shook it vigorously. He introduced the other men as Newkirk, Lebeau, Carter and Kinch. They all smiled at him and he smiled back, glad to make some friends in this dismal place. Colonel Hogan and his men invited Harris to spend his day in their barracks and enjoy a nice French meal with them all. Though, still exhausted from his previous adventures, Harris took up their kind offer and spent an agreeable day with his new friends. He told them the details of how his plane was shot down and how he'd been the only survivor and how he was still disturbed at the deaths of the other men on the plane. He told them just about everything; including about his fiancé, Chloe. He pulled out a snapshot of her that he carried in his chest pocket and smiled as they all nodded and commented as they passed the photo around.
Colonel Hogan watched from the end of the table as the young man proudly showed the photo of his girl to all the guys. He felt sad for the man and his misfortune at being stuck in a POW camp.
Later that night after inspection as Colonel Hogan sat at his desk reading, there was a knock on his door.
"Come in" he called and turned to see Newkirk enter the room.
"What can I do for you, Newkirk?" he asked as the Englishman fidgeted in the doorway.
"Well, I've been thinking and talking a lot to Private Harris and I wondered if we could tell him about our operation here and send him off home to London to his girl?" asked Newkirk quietly.
Colonel Hogan smiled and put his hand on Newkirk's shoulder.
"I was thinking along the same lines earlier today. Kinch checked him out and everything seems to be in order. We'll talk to him tomorrow and see what can be arranged, okay?" said Colonel Hogan as Newkirk smiled and nodded gratefully.
"Thanks, Colonel!" said Newkirk as he backed himself out of the door.
The next morning, Newkirk awoke to cold drops of rain coming through the cracks in the roof and soaking his blanket. The drumming rain outside made the barracks seem much colder than before and with a wet blanket, there wasn't much hope of getting any more sleep; so Newkirk unwillingly got up and got dressed and poked at the fire to try and put some warmth into the room.
"You're up early" mumbled Lebeau as he climbed out of his bed to make coffee.
"Can't sleep if it's raining on me!" complained Newkirk as he sat down at the table and tucked his hands up both sleeves to try and find warmth.
"Oh you poor thing!" teased Kinch as he climbed out of his bed and sat down next to Newkirk who scowled at him. "Here, use your blanket to keep warm," said Kinch as he reached up to grab Newkirk's blanket from his bunk.
"Yuck!" yelped Kinch as he dropped the wet blanket and wiped his hand off on his jacket. "What'd you do? Wet the bed?" he said to Newkirk who jumped up and retrieved the blanket and hung it to dry on the end of his bed.
"It rained on me, you idiot!" shot Newkirk as he smacked Kinch on the back of his head and took his seat at the table. Lebeau handed everybody mugs of coffee and then sat down with his own cup as Colonel Hogan came out to join them. Hogan watched, amused as Kinch and Carter teased Newkirk about his wet blanket and then clearing his throat to get their attention he told them about arranging to send Private Harris back home.
"Colonel, not to put a damper on things, but if it's raining we'll have trouble with the tunnels. We always do when it rains," said Kinch.
"That's fine. A few days delay won't be a big deal. We'll just introduce Harris to the operation and give him new hope and then ship him out when the rain lets up" said Hogan as he sipped his coffee.
Suddenly the door banged open to reveal Sergeant Schultz who looked soaked and cold. The wind gusted cold rain into the barracks as the prisoners cowered and protested until the large man shut the door.
"Roll call! Come on. Out, out, out!" barked Schultz as he tried to stand too close to the stove.
Grumbling and moaning about the weather, the prisoners donned coats and hats and trudged outside into the driving rain. They stood in formation with heads bent against the cold wind and stamped their feet to stop the cold from penetrating them too much. Newkirk caught Harris's eye and smiled encouragingly at the young man as they waited for the Kommandant.
Private Harris smiled faintly back at Newkirk and shivered suddenly which made his head jolt with pain. He gasped and rubbed his head, and felt suddenly woozy and unsteady. Newkirk looked worriedly at the young man and started to step forward but Hogan held him back.
Schultz reported his count to the waiting Kommandant and the men were dismissed. Colonel Hogan and his men ran to Harris's side as the young man started to fall forward with his hand on his head. Hogan and Newkirk caught him and between them they carried him into their barracks and put him on a bunk.
"I'm sorry, Sir" whispered Private Harris as he continued to rub his head and wince, "I woke up this morning feeling terrible. I don't know what's wrong with me!"
"We'll get the medic so just lie still and rest. Do you need anything? Are you hungry?" asked Colonel Hogan as he draped another blanket over the British Soldier.
"I'm just tired. I would like to sleep if that's okay, Sir?" replied Harris as he rubbed his head again.
"Okay, everybody outside!" said Colonel Hogan as he herded the others outside so Harris could sleep.
While the other men hung about under various shelters in the rain, the camp medic disappeared into the barracks to examine Private Harris. He re-appeared almost instantly and beckoned Colonel Hogan over to him to talk in the doorway.
Newkirk, Lebeau, Kinch and Carter watched them talk from under the overhang of the neighboring barracks. They couldn't hear what was being said, but knew it must be bad news as Hogan had covered his mouth and was looking at his feet as the medic talked.
Finally the medic went on his way and Colonel Hogan walked over to the others and ducked under the overhang to stay dry.
"Well, Sir! What is it? How is he?" demanded Newkirk anxiously. He had become very fond of Private Harris as the man reminded him of his younger brother in England.
"It's a bit strange. I'm not sure what to think!" replied the Colonel, "The medic says Harris has no heart beat and is cold to the touch. Initially, he said he couldn't examine a dead man. He said that Private Harris' body has been dead for two days which is when his plane went down!"
"What do you mean 'dead'?" asked Kinch and Lebeau at the same time.
"How could a dead man have been captured and come to camp and spoken to us all?" asked Carter, frowning.
Newkirk didn't say a word. His face paled and he listened to the others as if he was in a dream. He'd spoken to Harris all yesterday and had shared happy conversation of the city he missed so much. He felt he knew the man very well, even though it had only been a very short time. Newkirk gasped and realized he'd been holding his breath. Feeling suddenly dizzy, he leaned forward with his head bent down and his hands on his knees as he tried to get his breath back.
"Newkirk!" said Colonel Hogan, "Are you okay?" He reached out to steady the Englishman and the others came to help.
Newkirk nodded and tried to ease the dizzy feeling as Carter and Kinch put their arms around him and bent down to look at him.
"Colonel, he's going to faint!" said Lebeau as he peered into Newkirk's white face. Newkirk considered protesting about that statement and then he felt himself falling forward. His eyes fluttered and he gave up and welcomed the blackness that came rushing up to meet him.