Chapter Twenty-Six: The Frenchman Returns
Major Duerr and Sergeant Berg stepped out of the car in the SS camp compound. It was early evening, and the prisoners were returning back from work. Duerr was disgusted with their terrible appearance. If his prisoners had been this bad, he would have never sent them to work. Still, he ignored them for the most part and headed towards the administrative buildings. He was met halfway there by Sturmbannführer Jöchmann, who was flanked by two guards.
"What can I do for you Major," he asked indignantly.
"You know very well what I want you to do," replied Duerr evenly. "Give me my prisoner."
"Authorization," asked Jöchmann.
Berg shoved a piece of paper under Jöchmann's nose. The Sturmbannführer scowled at the sergeant as he took the paper. "Watch it Sergeant. I am a superior officer."
"Jawohl," said Berg, but not pleasantly.
"Now, that paper is signed by General Weiss," said Duerr. "I hope that is good enough authorization for you."
"It is," replied Jöchmann casually. "My men will show you where you will find the Frenchman. It was a pleasure doing business with you."
"The feeling is not mutual," growled Duerr. He turned and followed the SS guards to the hut in the middle of the compound. Duerr's heart rose to his throat at the sight. He could not believe the way these men were being treated! The guards opened the front of the gate. Duerr looked in, and could see Louis sitting beside the door. There were two other men inside as well. Duerr nodded to Berg. The sergeant stepped forward and knelt beside the hut.
"Corporal," he asked. "Corporal LeBeau?"
There was no reply. None of the prisoners inside reacted.
"Corporal?" Berg slightly shook Louis by his arm.
Louis's head snapped up, and for a split second he was wide awake. Then, he was overcome with a wave of nausea and dizziness. He let his head fall back into his hands.
"Nein, nein," said Berg. "You must come out now." He shook Louis more.
Louis raised his head slowly, and looked at Berg. He squinted into the light, despite how dim it was. It was still darker inside the hut.
"Que voulez?"
"You must come out now," repeated Berg.
"Pierre?"
"Nein. You must come out now."
"It is no use," said a guard in German. "He is delusional. Just leave him."
"Be quiet," ordered Duerr. "Berg, just pull him out. Get him on his feet."
Berg nodded, and pulled Louis from the hut. Luis resisted at first, but realized that he was finally being taken out. He tried to stand up, but swayed. Berg held him upright.
"When did he eat last," asked Duerr.
The guards shrugged. "We never fed him," answered one.
Duerr just walked back to his car. He looked back when he saw the hut being closed. He wondered what would become of the men left inside. Deciding that it was best not to dwell on that, he got into the car. Berg guided Louis to the car, and then pushed him into the backseat. Louis just lay out across it, still in a daze. Berg got back in on the passenger seat. Duerr quickly left the camp.
About five minutes into the drive, there was a retching sound from the back of the car. Berg and Duerr turned around to see Louis onto the car floor. Duerr quickly pulled over. Berg climbed out and dragged Louis out of the car, so that he could finish in the ditch. When the Frenchman was finished, he was more alert. He looked around him.
"Where am I," he asked Berg.
"On your vay back to Stalag XXXA," answered Berg.
Louis sighed, looking exhausted. "What will 'appen to me?"
"The cooler for a week," answered Duerr from the car.
Louis looked to him oddly. "The cooler?"
"Yes," answered Duerr. "Usually, it would be three weeks. But you have already been punished enough. After you are released from the cooler, your privileges will still be revoked for another week."
"As long as I am not stuffed in a box," said Louis.
"Never," promised Duerr.
Louis nodded. "Fine. Then I will willingly go back to the camp with you."
"Gut," said Berg. "Because I not vant to shoot you."
Louis just shook his head and they got back in the car. He looked at the vomit. "Sorry."
"You can clean it when we get back to camp," said Duerr.
"Oui Commandant," answered Louis obediently.
They were silent for the next few miles, and then Louis broke the silence again.
"What about Corporal Newkirk," he asked.
"He is still abroad," answered Duerr. He looked in the rearview mirror in time to see Louis smile. "But be assured, that will not be for long. I received word just an hour ago that they have picked up his trail heading north. It appears that he has got over the hills and into the next valley. I am sure he will be captured soon."
"Maybe," said Louis defiantly. He was hopeful that Peter had a good enough fight in him to resist capture.
"French," said Berg disapprovingly.
"German," spat Louis. But there was mischief in his voice.
"Please," said Duerr distractedly. "I want no bickering."
"Oui, Commandant."
"Jawohl, Herr Major."
Duerr shook his head.
"But you will never catch the English," whispered Louis quickly.
***** ***** *****
Marcel paced his barracks. His barracks-mates watched him go back and forth; they had been watching this continuous action for hours. He had done it yesterday, and ever since they had returned from work today, he had been doing it.
"Please," said one man. "Stop walking. Your steps are driving holes through my skull."
Marcel glowered at his comrade, but stopped pacing. "I'm just worried."
"We know," said several men simultaneously.
Marcel sighed and sat down his bunk. "I wonder when Louis will come back."
"The Major left again," said someone. "Maybe it was to go get Louis."
"Sure," said Marcel. "Oh, that fool. He should have never taken this chance. If I could somehow have gotten out of the camp, I would have left for good.
There were murmurs of agreement.
"But it was still brave, what they did," said someone. "And the Boche still don't know where the Englishman is."
"Hmph," said another soldier. "He probably really did leave. I don't fault him for it all, though."
Marcel shot him a glance. "I don't either. Funny, I think that if I were outside this situation, I would call any man who abandoned the mission a coward. But, I know better now."
"Still, we don't even know if he really is escaping," pointed out someone. "Maybe he is just still out there, gathering information."
"Yeah," said Marcel. They were silent for a moment.
"Must be nice, being free."
***** ***** *****
On the other side of the fence, the barracks closest to the compound were crammed with men, most hanging out of the windows, despite the frigid air. Since returning from work, the British prisoners realized Duerr was gone. They knew he must have gone to pick up someone. So, many prisoners had decided to be in the front row to see who came home. Everyone assumed it was Louis, because they knew he had been recaptured.
Stephen sat by a window, with his chin rested on the sill. All the windows were wide open. It was cold, but they remained warm from their clothes and because they were all packed together. Stephen was flanked by Everley and Dean. They were silent, each submerged in his own thoughts. At the next window, Lawrence and O'Neill were talking quietly. They were not being secretive but the mood of the camp was still, and it felt like a violation to talk normally.
"You think he knows where Corporal Newkirk is," asked O'Neill.
"I don't think so," said Lawrence. "Maybe they have an idea of where he went, but I don't think they really know for sure yet. Leastways, that is how he made it sound."
"What if he was bluffing," questioned O'Neill suspiciously.
Lawrence thought for a moment. "I don't think he would be. He would want to gloat to us that he knew."
"True," replied O'Neill. They were quiet for another few moments. "You think he'd really come back?"
Lawrence smirked. "Who knows? If he found something good enough, he might just scram it all and say cheerio and make a run for it. Nothing wrong with that. We did put him in quite a position. Still, if anything, he's loyal."
"Loyal," repeated O'Neill, confused. "To himself maybe."
"Oi," said Everley, who had overheard. "Ain't nothin' wrong wif that."
"In wartime there is," argued O'Neill. "He should work for his countrymen."
"He will," stated Stephen knowingly. "And if it were reversed and Louis were the one out there, and Peter recaptured, Louis would come back too. Because even if they're not loyal to their country, or anyone else, they are loyal to one another. And they both believe that the other would come back. Since they believe that, they'd never abandon the other. Therefore, Peter will come back. He'll come back and look for Louis. If the situation were reversed, Louis would come back looking for Peter. And even then, if the other one really did escape, the other would be glad. Because they'd want the other to be happy. Because they're friends." He paused. "Now that we have that settled, let's leave it at that."
There was a shocked silence for a moment. Then, Everley snorted and shook his head. "Parents. They really surprise you sometimes."
Everyone laughed, and even Stephen could not suppress a smile.
"Well, okay," said Lawrence. "Now we know, they're coming back."
Suddenly there was a shout from another barracks: "Look, here comes the Major!"
There was rush to the windows facing the compound. Everyone strained for a glance into the compound. They watched the Major drive into camp, and then through the gate leading to the administrative buildings. He parked there, and when he got out, went straight to his office. Berg also got out, and opened up the back door. He yanked Louis out, and began to escort him to the cooler.
The British prisoners cheered and called encouraging comments across the compound to Louis. But they were outdone easily by the French who began to sing.
***** ***** *****
The French prisoners were now hanging out their own windows and doors and singing their anthem emphatically. Louis, although deadbeat tired, could not help but smile. Berg had placed himself between Louis and the fence, so Louis could not entirely see the compound. But there was nothing to hide the patriotic sounds reverberating off every building. Berg looked highly annoyed, which made Louis even happier.
The song could still be easily heard inside the cooler. The building was small but extremely sturdy. It was cement outside, and the cells were lined with metal. Berg unlocked the first cell, and put Louis inside. The cell was small, but Louis considered it spacious compared to that awful hut. There was light because of a small window in the door. Louis was grateful for that. There was no furnishing in the cell. Just for walls and a ground. It was cold, but endurable. Also, it was clean and just smelled of rust. Louis sat down and leaned against the wall tiredly. The last of Le Marseillaise died away with a cheer, and everything went quiet. But it was a peaceful quiet. Louis was not disturbed by anything, and he could finally clear his mind. He thought that finally he would have a restful sleep.
Tap tap tap.
Louis barely heard the noise; he was so close to falling asleep.
Tap tap tap.
Again, the Frenchman remained still.
Tap tap tap.
Louis's eyes flew open. What was that!? He heard it again, and he realized it was coming from the opposite wall. He went over and put his ear against it. Another three taps echoed through. Hesitantly, Louis answered with his own three taps. There was an enthusiastic response in Morse code. Louis concentrated to understand.
L-U-K-E-F-A-I-R-N-T-H
Luke! Louis had no idea why the younger man was in the cooler, but he quickly responded by giving his own identity. Luke seemed really excited because he tapped so fast, Louis barely caught on. After they exchanged greetings, Luke attacked Louis with questions about where he had been what had happened, what was going on in camp, and so on. Louis was more than happy to reply, and definitely okay with putting sleep off a little while longer.