a/n: a missing scene or two from "Praise the Fuhrer and Pass the Ammunition".


Counting Tiles


He was summoned to the office, with the Colonel, after roll call;

To assume there'd be no comeback on his act was just naive;

As the birthday glow diminished with each ambulance and siren,

And the toll of dead and wounded left the enemy to grieve.

~0~

He'd declared as diabolical, the scheme to plant live weapons

And to sabotage a war game, leaving carnage in its wake.

In peacetime, such a mission would be deemed as quite inhuman,

But was justified in wartime; there were countless lives at stake.

~0~

Yes, he'd watered down his talents, dulled his sharpened wits, as ordered;

It wouldn't do to flaunt his comprehensive expertise,

And sheer folly to perform in such a way that raised suspicion

Of the myriad of ways he could have fooled the foe with ease.

~0~

A swiftly stifled smirk, as he remembered Klink's annoyance

When he'd "failed" to make a mess of eggs and egg shells disappear.

He had judged his guest's reaction; bored contempt became amusement,

And those vital precious minutes let the Colonel's team get clear.

~0~

Ram rod straight; at full attention, he stood silent in the office;

His features now composed; expression downcast and contrite,

As he listened to his Colonel and the Kommandant debating

On a punishment proportionate to ego bruised that night.

~0~

A lecture on behaviour, droning on and on forever,

Concluded with the chance to count the cooler tiles again.

Four weeks became a fortnight with the Colonel's plea for mercy,

But this was where it stopped; all further protests made in vain.

~0~

A shrug of resignation, then an escort to the cooler,

And a gleam of understanding as he caught the Colonel's eye.

An instinctive icy shiver, as the cell door closed behind him;

Those grey tiles...he knew the number; wall to wall and ceiling high.

~0~

A blanket on the bench, he wrapped the threadbare wool around him;

A stash, produced like magic; matches, cards and cigarettes.

His "home from home", a poor reward for expert interference...

A line of thought dismissed; he mustn't grumble; no regrets.

~0~

Besides...he grinned and yelled towards a nearby cell, containing

A recent "escapee", retrieved by Schultz, outside the gate.

He'd missed his cheerful bunk mate, since his latest " misadventure":

With Carter in the neighbourhood, recounting tiles could wait.

~0~


a/n: Carter was missing for this episode...not many places he might be...