+1
The first to be hit was Carter. "Uh, Colonel?"
Hogan continued to work, but motioned him over. "Hmm?"
Carter fidgeted with his sleeve. "I don't think I can come tonight to the mission."
That stopped Hogan, who turned to face Carter. "What?" He asked incredulously. "Carter, you're needed tonight! We have three bombs in specific …"
Interrupting, Carter said, "Yes sir, but I think if I stand much longer, I'll throw up."
Hogan blinked.
"Can I sit?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah. Why would you throw up?"
Carter sighed, then stopped as his face turned green. Hogan leaned away, but Carter motioned that it wouldn't happen; yet. "I think I got what Newkirk had a week ago."
Hogan groaned. "The flu?"
Carter slowly and carefully nodded.
The Colonel yelled for Newkirk. When the Englishman appeared, Hogan motioned to Carter. "Get him comfortable, will you? He's got what you had."
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
LeBeau lurched to the coffee-pot. He slowly reached up to pour himself a cup. Hogan noticed the fatigued movements and stopped him. "LeBeau, I don't think you should drink any."
The Frenchman blearily stared at him. "But Colonel, I am so tired today. I think that..."
"You need to sleep," Hogan interjected. "I think you're coming down with the flu also."
Vehemently, LeBeau shook his head. He stopped when the motion propelled him to the ground.
LeBeau weakly shook his fist at Newkirk, who was observing with amusement. "You did this to me!"
Newkirk hopped down from his bunk. "Well, as I remember it, you were the one who yelled in my face to get better. Or maybe that was just an ant; I can't tell what was real or a fever 'allucination." He teased as he helped LeBeau climb into the top bunk.
XXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Hogan had tried to hide it, really. He couldn't afford to get sick, as everyone else was. He was needed to run the camp. But, Murphy always got his way, so sick Hogan had become. But he was going to hide it until Newkirk noticed. The Corporal had become the unofficial caretaker of Barracks 2 in light of the illness; mostly because he was the only one still standing. And Unofficial Medic Newkirk had damn sharp eyes on him.
Klink had quarantined the barracks. That was good - they didn't want the flu to spread - but that meant Wilson wasn't able to see them. Which meant they couldn't tell what was serious. Which meant that everyone had to be watched closely. That's all a very long way of saying that there were few healthy men to spare, and Hogan couldn't admit he was sick.
Hogan coughed into his sleeve. He was doing it all the time now. The cough led to another and another and ...
Newkirk looked at Hogan, whose body was wracked with coughing spasms. He laid a hand on the CO's arm. "Sir, you 'ave to go to bed now. I don't want to make you, but you usually deny illness. And we all see it."
The Colonel tottered, then collapsed in Newkirk's arms. He blinked. "That was much easier than expected. You all right sir?"
No answer.
"Blimey. I think 'e knocked 'imself out!"
XXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
The last fall was the mighty Kinch. Befitting a warrior with a strong immune system, the crash was spectacular. All the symptoms presented themselves almost at the same time; Kinch had been dealing to Newkirk in one of the rare moments Olsen wasn't awake to moan, then had suddenly and very nearly exploded into a bloody mess of mucus.
Coughing, sneezing, shivering, vomiting over the cards. Stumbling, tripping with the concerned Brit to his bed. Sleeping, snoring, choking, shaking during the night.
It was nearly 3 hours before Kinch had gotten settled. Then off to the others. Newkirk emptied buckets. He fed water. He changed sheets. He bargained with guards. He covered with blankets. He did everything within his power to make the others comfortable.
At sometime in the blur, it had become morning. Newkirk knocked on the barracks door.
"Shhh!"
Newkirk furrowed his brow. "Shultz?" He whispered.
"Ja."
"Why do I 'ave to be quiet?"
The voice leaned in, conspiratorially. "The men here are sick. You must not bother them. And you cannot come in. It is Verboten! A quarantine."
Newkirk sighed rubbed his forehead. "Shultz?"
"Ja."
"I'm already inside the barracks. I live here."
"… Oh. Sorry, Newkirk."
He shook his head, but then remembered Shultz couldn't see it through the door. "It's fine, Shultz. I just wanted the time."
Shuffling sounds. "It is fünf Uhr morgens. Five."
"Thanks, Shultzie."
He'd been up and about for what, two days? Yeah, that sounded right. He was pretty knackered. Maybe if he sat down and took a quick nap … He patted Carter's sweaty head as he passed. Sweat was good. That meant he was getting better. It'd be bad if his mate got worse. His tired head was slowly lowering ...
XXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Hogan woke up slowly. He felt like a brigade of Shultzes had built a human pyramid on his head and chest and started dancing. He also had to go to the bathroom. He stumbled out of bed and his office only to stop by the table. Newkirk was slumped over on it; he looked like he had sat down for a breather, but then one of Hogan's Shultz dancers had brained him with a bowling ball.
Wow. If he couldn't come up with a better metaphor than that, he must really be sick.
He turned his thoughts back to Newkirk. The blue chest softly rose and fell, and a brown head shifted on numb arms that pillowed under him. Newkirk honestly looked quite pitiful and adorable simultaneously. Hogan stared in a daze. His thoughts were having a hard time catching up.
Hogan looked at the blanket across his own shoulders. Or tried to, anyway. It took a bit more effort than he would like to lay the blanket over Newkirk's prone body.
"He's been there for the last few hours." LeBeau spoke up. He reminded Hogan of a monster with his bloodshot eyes. "I would have done what you did, but …" he sat and showed the Colonel his quavering hands.
"'s allright," Hogan slurred. He nearly fell over, but caught himself. Well, he actually didn't catch himself, so he fell on top of Newkirk, who jerked awake.
"What in the bloody … Colonel! What're you doin' out of bed, sir?"
"You were cold, so I was covern' you with a blanket."
Newkirk slid the rough cotton off. Gently, he rewrapped it around his CO. "Let's get you back to bed."
xXxXxXxXxXxXx
The flu was completely flushed from the Barracks by the end of the week. Everyone was extremely grateful it was gone, not least of all a certain Corporal. But the others had something else they were thankful for: the dedicated service of Newkirk. If nothing else, this made up for the times when he was a reckless obscene idiot. Though, it wouldn't stop them from yelling when he did something stupid.
And all the boys said "Amen".
A/N Fun fact: The flu vaccine was invented in 1938 and the soldiers of WWII were some of the first to ever get it (one of the creators also developed the first polio vaccine). But I don't think flu shots were something POWs could look forward to.
I thought all the fluff was so cute :D
So, here we are at the end! How'd you guys like it? Let me know. I had a great ride with ya'll, and I hope you did too :)
