Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is so short. I've been pressed for time, lately. Anyway, it is exactly what they title says, so it's a lighter chapter anyway. Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter Thirty: An Interlude
January 1, 1941
Duerr had not planned on letting the prisoners sleep in on New Year's Day. Of course, he had not realized that they would actually stay up till midnight and have a small celebration when the New Year came around. It had been perfectly quiet in the camp, and then around ten till, the barracks came to life. The prisoners had opened their windows and doors. The guards had been worried at first, but when they saw that the prisoners were doing nothing but sitting around, they let them be. Still, no one had been allowed out of their barracks so late at night. When all of this had happened, Berg had woken Duerr up to let him know. So, Duerr and the Kommandant had watched from the office window.
The prisoners must have synchronized their watches because they got more talkative on the dot as the last minute came. And when it came to be midnight, the all cheered as one. They beat on the doors and walls to make as much noise as possible. "Happy New Year!" and "Bonne Année!" bounced around camp, and eventually above the din of cheers, "Glückliches Neujahr!"could be heard. Smiles were contagious. So, in light of the mood, and because Duerr's own guards had been up late, he let things slide on New Year's Day. Everyone got to sleep in.
But there were no special dinners this time, so everyone was back on the normal meal plan: watery soup with unrecognizable chunks floating in the tinted liquid. Though nothing exemplary, food was food. Even a week after the amazing Christmas Day meal, it already felt like a millennia ago. Like a dream.
As Duerr had promised, it was back to work the following day. The same work details were drawn up, as well as stricter regulations for guards. If a prisoner was outside camp, they had to be with a guard. So, this time, when Peter and Luke were sent back out to clean the pigpen, Berg was standing outside the fence, watching them alertly. The guard in charge of the French compound was sent to personally watch Louis. The guard sat by the cleaning cupboard the entire day, watching Louis's every move. Needless to say, Duerr was not taking any chances.
Still, this hardly bothered anyone. Peter and Louis had completed their mission, so the next step could go on. Serious work on the tunnels was underway again. With the work details back up, Duerr reopened the rec hall. Recreation period lasted only an hour, though. The officers did not push it. They understood that one hour would have to be it. A maximum effort was put into it, though. The tunnel was being expanded daily. The guards were still alert, but the work continued uninterrupted. Slowly, the men began to build up their confidence.
But not enough confidence. After the tragic pneumonia epidemic, and the winter even colder now in January, the officers decided that something needed to be done to give another boost to the men's morale. Something they could all work on and enjoy, besides the escape. They wanted something that was closer to look forward to and guaranteed to be a success. They took Peter's suggestion from two months earlier, and proposed to Duerr that they have a talent show for the men to put on. Duerr conceded, and when the word was put out about the show that would take place on the night of January 30th, everyone got excited.
"Let's do something together," Louis told Peter the day after the show was announced. They were in the rec hall, underneath the stage, tailoring civilian clothes from blankets and other cloth that had been gathered.
"Okay," said Peter. "Like wot? Sing, a skit…"
"A skit," said Louis. "A comedy skit. Something to make people laugh."
"Alright," said Peter. "Sounds good. Any ideas?"
"No," said Louis. "Not right now. But we 'ave nearly a month. That should be enough time to come up with something."
"And," said Peter. "We're stuck down 'ere every day, so that should be enough to work on it together."
There was a thump from above, and they heard Luke's voice. "Time to go chaps. Roll call in ten minutes." Peter and Louis alerted the diggers, and they left.
Everyday, they did exactly as they planned. Underneath the stage, while they sewed, they bounced ideas off one another about a comedy sketch they should do. They came up with two ideas they loved, but they only had time for one. So, they picked each one apart and schemed some more. After they decided which one they should do, they practiced lines the entire hour and would change it up as they went along, just to play around. Whatever happened, they only wanted to make their comrades laugh. As long as everyone enjoyed themselves, it was a success.
Finally, the night came. There were a string of acts: singing, magic tricks, little skits, acrobats. It became obvious how much the prisoners were capable of outside being a soldier. A little bit of everyone's past came out as well. Or rather, a little bit of everyone's playful side came out. Duerr let the prisoners have a record player for the evening as well, and supplied some records too. They had only a few from the Red Cross. From these, people danced or sung along. Everley and Dean actually made a skit from one of the records and it was by far one of the most successful acts of the night.
With the musical composition, Ride of the Valkyries,Everley and Dean presented a comical version of Germany's history. With Germans actually present at the show, including Duerr and the Kommandant—which was a surprise—the men made sure that there were moments of righteousness for the Germans. But there were also parts, which were just hilarious because of the two men's acting. These made everyone laugh. Even Duerr and the Kommandant were stifling some chuckles. The ridiculousness of the performance was, by far, the reason for its success. However, the objective had been accomplished: laughter.
Only two acts later, Peter and Louis took the stage. Since they had not any real time to act it out in practice, they knew there was going to be some improvising. Regardless, they were looking forward to it.
Louis was on stage, alone at first. He was dressed in uniform meant to portray him as a police officer. The table he sat at was obviously his desk as he sat down pretending to fill out some papers. Then, Peter entered as a civilian.
Louis looked up. "Hello sir. How can I help you?" The audience smiled when they heard his very forced British accent. Peter stifled laughter. The accent wasn't bad, but they had not planned that.
Peter smiled. "I'm just going to go visit with someone. The cell number is 24, I believe."
"Didn't know you were ever out of prison, mate," called someone from the audience playfully. Peter gave the audience a sly smile before going on. The audience had been teasing everyone when they first went up, so Peter was not intimidated. He knew no one was trying to be mean.
"Okay," said Louis, in character. He pulled out a ledger. "For security purposes, I will need your name."
"Yes," said Peter. "It is Derrick—" he took out a lighter and dropped it on the table. It made a clattering sound as it hit. He then looked at Louis as if all was in order. A few men in the audience chuckled.
"Excuse me," asked Louis, obviously confused. "Can I hear that again?"
"Sorry," said Peter. He picked up the cigarette lighter. "My name is Derrick—" he dropped the lighter on the table again, let it clatter, and looked back up at Louis. More people laughed this time.
Louis stood up. "That's your name?"
"Yes."
"Well," said Louis. He picked up the cigarette lighter. "You have a very unusual name Mr.—" he dropped the lighter. There were some uncontrollable giggles now.
Peter sighed, looking annoyed. "If I had a pound every time someone told me that…"
"I'm sure you would be a rich man," finished Louis, looking rather annoyed. He picked up the lighter. "Well, how do you spell—" he dropped it again.
Peter rolled his eyes. "Just how it sounds, officer."
The audience laughed again.
Louis picked up the lighter, his face twisted in annoyance. "I'm not so sure how to spell—" the lighter hit the table again. The audience chuckled again.
"Oh, for God's sake, man," said Peter. "Here you are, a distinguished law officer, and you can't even spell?"
"You can't go through that door without your name in this book," retorted Louis sternly.
"Fine," said Peter. "Well, you know how to spell Derrick, right?"
"Of course," said Louis. "I just don't know how to spell—" the lighter clattered on the table again.
"Yes, yes, alright," said Peter. He took a breath. "It's N. I. P. P. L. Hyphen. E."
The room exploded with laughter, especially at the serious expressions on each man's face. Louis looked completely astounded, and Peter looked like situation normal.
"Nipple," repeated Louis.
"I beg your pardon," said Peter. He glanced around. "What are you talking about?"
"That's your last name—nipple?"
"No," said Peter. "It's not spelled like nipple."
"Oh, really," said Louis. "Let me read it out to you."
"Ok."
"N. I. P P. L. E."
"No, its hyphen…E," retorted Peter quickly and with annoyance.
Louis sighed. "Fine. I need your address and then you can go."
"Good," said Peter. "It's twenty-two—" he did a quick tap dance with his feet and slapped Louis on the cheek. "—Frederick Road."
The room erupted with laughter. Louis was once again giving Peter a dumbfounded look.
"What the hell was that?"
"What?"
"Do you know the consequence for assaulting an officer?"
"I'm sure it's quite terrible. But I have no idea what you're talking about. How does that have anything to do with me giving you my address?"
"Well, I dunno," said Louis sarcastically. "Let me repeat it just to make sure I got it right. Your address is twenty-two—" he repeated the quick tap dance and then punched Peter in the face "—Frederick Road?"
Peter stumbled back as the audience cracked up. He looked at them with an angry expression while rubbing his jaw.
"Now, hold on. What are you playing at? That was not my address. I said: twenty-two—" the tap dance and slap "—Frederick Road."
Louis hardly flinched. "Fine, fine." He quickly wrote something down in the ledger. Then, he studied it. "You know, from some angles it looks like: twenty-two—" he pulled out a plank of wood and struck Peter across the face. Peter fell back dramatically and lay sprawled out on the ground. Louis looked over the desk and down at him. "Yes, yes. I like that version much better." He then sat back down at his desk and went back to work.
The audience laughed and then applauded when Peter and Louis stood up and bowed and then walked off. When they were offstage, they shook hands.
"Good show, mate," said Peter.
"You too, chum," answered Louis in his best British accent.
Peter patted his cheek. "Let me handle the accents from now on, mon ami."
They both laughed and went back down into the audience to enjoy the rest of the show.
At the end, Lawrence came out to announce the winners. The officers were the judges. Everyone cheered for Torben Arcenau who won third for his Charlie Chaplin routines. Peter and Louis won second with Everley and Dean winning overall. All they received was some spare chocolate, but the sport of it all was fun. No one really cared about the winnings. It was just a fun night.
The following day, Peter decided not to wait for a letter, but started to write home. These past couple of months had definitely given him something to write home about now. He was sure Mavis would want to hear about it all. Of course, he could not tell her everything, but if she heard that he wasn't completely bored out of his skull, that would somewhat appease her worried sentiments.
The next day, Marcel was talking to Louis on their way to work in Bielski.
"You two were great," he said, talking about their skit. "It's odd, how well you two work together. You're nearly complete opposites."
Louis smiled. "Sort of makes the best kinds of friendships, I think. You get surprises every now and then. Makes life interesting."
Marcel shook his head. "I'm just glad we have people like you around to cheer us up every now and then."
Louis sighed. "If we had shows every night, I wouldn't mind staying here so much. But, seeing as that isn't going to happen, I hope we get this escape tunnel done quick.
So, some you might have recognized Peter and Louis's skit, because I am definitely not creative enough to make up my own. If you do, I'd like to hear it in the review. I just don't want to give it away. I will say, though, that it was from British comedy. So any Americans might not place it.