Epilogue
October 5, 1942
The new prisoner wandered around the prison awkwardly. Low clouds hovered, threatening to rain. He thought it might always be like that here. He stopped by the barracks when a veteran prisoner approached him.
"So," said the veteran prisoner. "You are new, eh?"
"Yes," answered the new prisoner. "I only got here yesterday evening."
"Where were you captured," asked the veteran.
"Africa," answered the new man.
"Ah, yes," replied the veteran. "That is where a lot of men are coming from lately."
"How is it here," asked the new man.
"Okay, I guess," answered the veteran. "We get good rations, recreation time, but we are still prisoners. The guards rarely touch us unless we're a real troublemaker, but we are officers. Usually, the guards just ignore us."
"Any work details," asked the new man.
"Every now and then," answered the veteran. "Out in the country, we help farmers or repair roads. But these English are proud. They don't like help from us."
"I've seen it before," said the new man.
"Well," said the veteran. "I nearly forgot my manners." He held out his hand. "Major Hans Pietzer, Wehrmacht."
The new man shook the veteran's hand. "I am Major Lance Duerr, Wehrmacht."
The young guard nearby looked up, his suspicion confirmed. He had heard the voice, but hadn't quite believed it at first. The guard walked around the corner, and the old prisoner looked up. The new man followed his gaze and froze when he saw the guard.
"Hello," said the guard. "It's been awhile."
"Yes, it has private," replied the new man.
"Corporal, now, actually," replied the guard, gesturing to the stripes on his uniform.
"Well," said the new man with amusement. "I am sorry for the mistake Corporal Fairnth."
Luke smiled. "No worries, Major. Good day." He walked off to finish his rounds.