Chapter 5 - Or Else What?
"Silence about a thing just magnifies it." - Tennessee Williams, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
Newkirk grudgingly took the slate and immediately wrote, Or else what?
Wilson didn't miss a beat. "Or else I'll haul your butt over to the infirmary and bandage your mouth shut!"
Newkirk blinked in surprise; Wilson had never spoken to him in such an abrasive manner. He frowned and cocked his head to the side as he processed the medic's outburst.
Wilson sighed as his anger melted away as swiftly as it arose and he moved to sit on the stool beside the bunk. He reached out to put his hand on Newkirk's shoulder. "Listen Peter, I'm sorry. Try to look at it from my standpoint. It's just as frustrating for me as it is for you. I don't want to have to be the one to tell the Colonel that you're getting worse instead of better. Help me out here, will ya?"
All right Joe. I'll try.
"That's all I'm asking. Now, how're you feeling?"
Like hell.
"Understandable. Give me some details. How's your throat?"
Still hurts bad.
"Open up, let me take a look." Wilson pulled his flashlight out of his pocket and turned it on as he checked Newkirk's throat. "Yep, still raw. Feels like you still have a bit of fever as well. What else is bothering you?"
Headache. Can't concentrate. Nervous. Can't sleep.
Wilson nodded knowingly. "Uh huh. It's about time those symptoms kicked in."
Newkirk looked at him blankly.
"You haven't had a cigarette in nearly a day and a half. You've just begun the withdrawal process."
The Englishman slapped his hand against his forehead in frustration. Oh Cor! Did 'e say just begun?
Wilson started to say something else but was interrupted when the Colonel opened the door and herded an obviously unwilling LeBeau into the room before him.
"Sorry for barging in guys, I need to talk to Carter."
Carter looked at his CO and said, "Sir?"
"I'm afraid your days as a waiter are over. Kinch and I have finally completed the planning for this upcoming mission and I need you down in the tunnel to prepare the explosives."
Carter at least had the grace not to look too terribly relieved as he glanced over at Newkirk. "Sorry buddy, you heard the Colonel." He looked back at Colonel Hogan. "So who…oh…," he trailed off embarrassedly as he suddenly realized what the Colonel had in mind.
Hogan gave LeBeau a gentle shove towards the bunk. "Remember our conversation Louis?"
"Oui mon Colonel," LeBeau muttered unhappily. He moved to stand beside the bunk and stared down at Newkirk for a moment. He sighed, "I am sorry Pierre. Shall we begin again?"
Newkirk hesitated before he caught the stern glare the Colonel sent his way and he bobbed his head slightly as he bent over the slate. I'm sorry too Louis, bygones and all that. Just don't push it mate, okay?
Wilson raised his eyebrows at the Englishman's last phrase but said nothing as LeBeau nodded in full understanding.
"André said you were hungry, n'est-ce pas?"
Newkirk rolled his eyes in his usual deprecating fashion and chalked YES – VERY! My stomach thinks my throat's been cut!
LeBeau chuckled, amused in spite of himself. "Very well. I will find something for your poor stomach."
Wilson stood up and took LeBeau by the arm as they both headed towards the door. "I need to discuss a few things with you Louis."
Colonel Hogan nodded approvingly to his English corporal as he too, headed out of the room with Carter in tow.
"I'll see you later Peter!" called Carter.
Newkirk grunted a reply and closed his eyes, trying to settle the dizziness he felt due to his lack of deep, restful sleep. Where's the little Frenchman gotten off to? he groused to himself. He realized he should be ashamed of his treatment of LeBeau. After all, he was the only one of his circle of close friends who knew most of the truth about his recurring nightmare and he had kept it to himself all this time.
Yes, he decided he really owed LeBeau a more sincere apology than the one the Colonel shamed out of him. He found himself drifting off and forced his eyes open just in time to see his French friend enter the room bearing a tray of toast and tea. LeBeau set the tray atop the Colonel's desk in order to sweeten the mug of hot tea with a generous dollop of honey. "I am sorry I do not have more than this Pierre. I will make it up to you with dinner."
He turned to hand Newkirk two aspirin and a cup of water. "Joe asked me to give these to you."
Newkirk nodded gratefully and downed the pills along with all of the water.
LeBeau then picked the tray up and moved to set it in Newkirk's lap. Newkirk made sure LeBeau saw the slate first, Ta little mate.
"You are welcome mon ami," smiled LeBeau. "Eat. I will be back in a few minutes."
Newkirk nodded and began to eat. He couldn't understand this sudden onset of continuous hunger and was increasingly puzzled by the periodic bouts of nausea. Was that part of being without his ciggies as well? Blimey, what a spot of bother this was turning out to be!
As the Colonel and Carter made their way down the ladder into the tunnel, they noticed something was definitely different below ground. Things got worse as they made their way to the radio room.
"It sure looks smoky down here Colonel! Are the lamps running out of oil?"
The Colonel sniffed the air before he replied, "Smells more like cigarette smoke to me Andrew."
Kinch was manning the radio, making the final arrangements with the Underground for the destruction of the Diebach ammo dump. Baker stood by, taking notes; he looked up as the two men approached.
Kinch signed off and Colonel Hogan stepped forward. "Everything on schedule Kinch?"
Kinch nodded, "Yes sir. All set!"
"Good. Now, what's up with all this smoke down here?"
Kinch glanced at Baker, who seemed to have suddenly found something extremely interesting on the floor.
"Well sir, the guys got tired of standing in the rain and they've been coming down to the emergency tunnel to smoke."
"I see," said the Colonel. He massaged his chin with his right hand as he spoke. "Well, we need to regulate this better because first, we've got to keep a safe distance between the smokers and Andrew's explosives, and second, we need to be able to breathe!"
"Yes sir," answered Kinch. "Richard and I will take care of it. We'll set up a rotating schedule."
"Thanks Colonel!" said Carter. "I sure don't need to worry about blowing any of the fellas up!"
"Andrew, you just worry about getting us the fireworks we need to get rid of that ammo depot and let me worry about the rest."
"Yes sir," nodded Carter as he headed for his lab.
Newkirk had just polished off his tea and toast when LeBeau came back in the room. This time he carried a bowl of hot water and a kettle. Newkirk looked at him questioningly.
"I have something to help your throat Pierre. Here, give me that tray." LeBeau set the bowl on the stool and the kettle on the floor beside the bunk before he took the tray.
What is it Louis? wrote Newkirk.
"Do not concern yourself mon ami! It is only a warm compress that will make your throat feel better. Trust me."
Don't have much choice do I?
"No, you do not!" said LeBeau. He reached into the bowl, wrung out a cloth and nestled it securely around Newkirk's throat. It exuded a deeply herbal aroma which Newkirk found maddeningly familiar.
LeBeau recognized his friend's wary expression and said, "Yes, it is grand-mère's balm! It helped you before, remember?"
Newkirk wrote, Yes I remember. He decided to change the subject. When is the mission?
LeBeau replaced the rapidly cooling cloth with a fresh warm one and he answered as he tossed the first cloth back into the bowl. "I believe it is scheduled for tomorrow night."
What's the target?
"An ammunition depot near Diebach."
Who's going?
LeBeau had turned away for a moment to refresh the bowl with hot water from the kettle and Newkirk reached out to grab his sleeve. "What Pierre?"
Who's going?
LeBeau shrugged, "So many questions! Colonel Hogan, André and Kinch are going. You and I, of course, shall stay here."
Newkirk heaved a frustrated sigh before he dejectedly chalked three words.
Don't like this.
"What mon ami? Being ill?"
Another sigh, then Never mind.
"I know what is bothering you Pierre. You do not like the fact that you will not be with them. You will not be able to protect them, oui?"
Annoyed at himself for being so transparent, Newkirk suddenly turned his face towards the wall. LeBeau reached to grasp his shoulder. "Thank you for worrying about us, mon ami. That is the sign of a good friend. Now lie down and try to get some rest. I will wake you when dinner is ready."
To the Frenchman's great surprise, Newkirk did just as he asked. Newkirk laid his slate aside and settled into the bunk, eyes already half-closed. He certainly wasn't going to admit to LeBeau that the herbal aroma of the compress had lulled him to sleep.
Fully aware of the situation, LeBeau laughed to himself and refreshed the warm compress once more before he quietly exited the room.
