Time for a new chapter... and a huge thank you to all of the readers and reviewers. Special thanks to those who are reviewing as guests! Your reviews are greatly appreciated. To signed reviews, I hope I responded to each of you because I truly appreciate everyone taking time to let me know their feelings.
Yes, things are tough on our favorite Englishman. No, Hogan is not going to arrive to save the day yet... perhaps... not at all... *insert dramatic music here* Yeah, well, Hogan will make it back before the very end of the fic.
Enough author's note, now fic.
Chapter 5
Kinch was on hand to help Newkirk up and to roll call. LeBeau helped to steady him while they waited in formation. The Frenchman tried not to be obvious about it and by the time they were all dismissed, Newkirk was better able to move around the compound. Everyone was relieved that Hendrich didn't put in an appearance this morning. While suspicious, Newkirk put on the same act as the previous day, joking with the other prisoners and trying to amuse a few of the guards. LeBeau shadowed him the entire time.
Carter had hovered behind Newkirk until Kinch took him aside. Then he took off on an errand while Kinch gave Newkirk a nod.
Newkirk breathed a sigh of relief that lasted just until Carter returned with Medic Wilson. Then he looked around for the suddenly absent Kinch. "Busybodies..." Suddenly annoyed, he went along with Wilson to the small infirmary under protest. Carter fell in beside him and he glared at him. "What did I ruddy well tell you last night?"
"What? But I thought that was just last night and..." Carter gave him a hurt expression.
"Thinking ain't your strong suite, Carter. Now go on, go find somewhere else to be." Newkirk growled unhappily. LeBeau started to speak up beside him and the Brit turned on him as well. "Leave off!" LeBeau gave him a reproachful look before jerking his chin at Carter to follow him.
Newkirk glared at the two as they began to walk away, feeling hurt that his little French mate would take up with Carter. He knew he was being unfair to them both but stubbornly decided it wasn't fair that he was taking all the abuse from the Krauts. Part of him, deep down inside, feared he wouldn't be able to help them when and if Hendrich decided to target them.
Wilson touched his arm slightly to get his attention. "Come on, you can be grouchy to your friends later. Let's get your ribs wrapped up again." He indicated the infirmary.
They both paused again as Hendrich's staff car drove through the compound and stopped at the guest quarters. Wilson watched for a few seconds before speaking quietly. "Are they leaving?"
"No idea." Newkirk gazed expressionlessly at the scenario. "I hope so, as far as I'm concerned, 'e's worn out 'is bloody welcome 'ere."
"That's for certain." Wilson's look of sympathy vanished before Newkirk could turn around. "Come on, let's go wrap the ribs. I shouldn't have to say it twice. It's for your own good."
"Why is it that all the stuff what you want to do for me own good always 'urts and is uncomfortable? Why can't you do something for my own good that feels nice?" Newkirk's attention was still partially on the departing Hendrich, but he followed Wilson along to the dingy little building that held the prisoner's infirmary.
Newkirk left the infirmary still grumbling about Wilson's long list of 'things Newkirk shouldn't do'. It wasn't as if he hadn't been bruised up before and dealt with it without any medical attention at all. His ribs felt better with the tight wrap, although he'd convinced the medic to use cloth bandages. Wilson had argued right up until he'd found the damage from the tape removal. For a moment, he had wondered if he'd have to stop Wilson from going out after Hendrich himself. Their medic was never so fierce as when someone threatened to un-do his work.
He rubbed at his still sore jaw and started across to the barracks. Kinch would fill him in on whatever needed doing for the day. Without Kinch about, he'd have been completely lost with this farce of a role. As if he could manage being the prisoner representative. He could barely keep himself out of trouble. According to LeBeau, he was incapable of it. His lip quirked upwards slightly. According to Wilson, he was practically suicidally stupid at taking care of himself.
His eyes flickered up in time to see LeBeau and Carter emerging from the barracks. LeBeau spotted him at about the same time and the pleased grin told Newkirk that his earlier fit of temper had been forgiven by his friend already. He smiled in response and started that way when he saw LeBeau stop grinning and point in warning.
He turned just in time to mostly duck the cuff to his head from Otto. "Oi! Watch it!" He put his arms up to block and Otto grabbed one and yanked him around.
"Come, Englander, Major-General Hendrich has need of you." Otto didn't seem to even notice Newkirk's struggles as he half-dragged him towards Hendrich's staff car.
Becoming more panicked the closer they got to the car, Newkirk hazarded putting his heel into the back of Otto's knee to knock him down. Unfortunately Otto merely stumbled and kept his tight grip on the prisoner. Within a few seconds, Newkirk found himself facedown in the dirt instead. Otto cursed angrily in German as he fastened the Brit's hands behind him with cuffs.
There was an eruption of shouts of protest from prisoners in the compound. More of the POWs came running to see what was happening and a few guards began yelling.
"No! NO!" shouted Newkirk from the dirt. He could see Hendrich's second bodyguard stepping between them and the approaching POWs with a rifle. "NO! Stop!" He struggled to get up to try to do something to stop both the POWs from attacking the Germans and Hendrich's men from murdering prisoners. Otto kept him on the ground easily.
LeBeau was right there screaming at the guards in French. His gestures told them exactly what he was protesting about and that he wanted his friend released, even if they didn't speak a word of French. Langenscheidt arrived at a run to push POWs back away from them. "Halt! Nein!" The poor German corporal was torn between blocking the POWs from mobbing Otto to force Newkirk's release and blocking Jager from shooting the shouting prisoners. Luckily for Langenscheidt, other stalag guards arrived quickly to back him up in both roles. Jager looked annoyed at being moved backwards away from the prisoners who were now turning to the stalag guards. The crowd was growing and the prisoners were shouting and pointing, demanding Newkirk's release.
"Stop! Louis! Stop! He'll shoot you!" Newkirk was dragged up to his knees but he continued to try to yell to his friends. "LeBeau! Stop!" He dredged up his poor French and tried again. "Arreter crier! Vous... uhh, vous tour tous!" [*stop screaming, you turn all]
Either his words got through or his French was bad enough to stop LeBeau in his tracks as he pushed against Langenscheidt. "Non! Newkirk! We won't let them take you!"
"Louis! Stop it and take Carter away!" Newkirk twisted and saw Hendrich approaching with a snarl on his face. "Quick LeBeau!"
LeBeau looked to see the German officer striding up angrily and pulling out his Luger. "Vous reviendrez, Newkirk..." He smiled grimly. "Your French is still terrible!" He grabbed Carter and dragged him back into the press of men who were still crowding the stalag guards. The parting insult made Newkirk feel better. Things would work out now. Things would work out because life couldn't end with the last words between them being insults. It just wasn't done. He smiled just a little.
Hendrich stepped up and surveyed the almost-mob scene and twisted to glare at Newkirk still on his knees in Otto's grip. "You cause too much trouble, Corporal." He aimed the Luger at Newkirk's face and the crowd slowly went silent. "The next POW who tries to stop me, I'll put a bullet in your precious friend's head." He looked smug as he bent slightly to speak to Newkirk. "Now, get up and get in the car."
"No. You can't take a Lufewaffe POW out of the stalag without permission. You can't remove a POW without reason. It's against the rules and the Geneva Convention." Newkirk set his jaw and took the punch to his cheek. He spat bloody spit into the dirt and looked back up defiantly. "You also can't beat a POW without reason."
Hendrich looked furious. "Otto is going to release you and you're going to walk to the car and get in. If you do anything other than what I just told you, Otto will go retrieve your friend Sergeant Carter instead and I'll take him and leave you here." He stepped back and nodded to Otto who turned loose and waited.
Newkirk knelt in the dirt staring at the crowd of prisoners. He had the feeling that if he called out to them for help, they would mob right over the stalag guards to try to take down Hendrich and both his guards. He glared up at Hendrich and bluffed with all he had in him. "You go after anyone else in that mob and they'll riot. You don't want to risk being taken down by the prisoners." He was struggling to keep his panic off his face.
Hendrich's anger turned suddenly to a smile. "I'd welcome a prisoner riot. Otto and I haven't shot anyone in weeks." He turned to Otto. "How many do you think you could kill before they overran us?"
Otto's voice was deathly serious. "As many as I have bullets." He turned his dark gaze to the kneeling prisoner. "These pigs have no spine, they will break when a few of them die. They are soft."
Hendrich's smile widened slightly. "I think a riot and a dozen or more dead prisoners would do wonders towards getting Klink shipped off to the Russian Front. A fitting reward for that little kommandant. Thinking he could defy my wishes, indeed."
Those words made Newkirk's resolve crumble even more than the threat to Carter. The operation could do without any one of the men involved. But if they lost Klink, they would have to deal with a real kommandant, someone that even Hogan couldn't manipulate. Looking at the tense crowd, Newkirk realized that he knew most of them by name and was reminded that even if it was in name only, he was the Man of Confidence for all of them right now. If they did riot, plenty of them would die and be wounded, especially considering the number of armed camp guards that had arrived to impose order on them all. He twisted his wrists in the cuffs behind his back and struggled to his feet. Once standing, he looked at the POWs again and spotted Kinch pushing his way to the front of the crowd. Kinch stopped and looked back at him, waiting.
After a few heartbeats that felt like they took hours, Newkirk shook his head at Kinch and turned to walk to the staff car with his head down. Otto followed behind him closely. Jager shadowed Hendrich a few steps behind. When he got into the staff car, he felt sick. He could hear additional shouting and thought that he identified Klink's ineffective protests as Hendrich and his two guards got in. As they passed through the gate, Newkirk lifted his head enough to look back at the stalag he'd lived in for the past years of captivity.
"Wise choice, Corporal." Hendrich's smug tone would have curdled milk. "Shooting a dozen of your fellow POWs would have caused quite a stir, I expect. This way is much better." He leaned closer to pat Newkirk's head. "I suggest you remain cooperative. Otto can always return to pick up your friends if I want him to."
"Yes, herr Major-General." choked out Newkirk. His anger was struggling against sheer terror. He didn't like feeling helpless. He rarely felt helpless. If he couldn't actually get himself loose, he normally knew that even if he took a little bit of a beating, he'd be returned to his barracks where his mates would take care of him. He had the luxury of snarking off and angering his captors however he dared. The guards at the stalag had grown accustomed to the wise cracks and taunts from the infamous 'Englander' that had been at the camp longer than almost any of the guards.
There were the rare exceptions. Also, there was the Gestapo, especially the insane Hochstetter. No matter how nonchalant Colonel Hogan was handling the Gestapo major, Newkirk always went a little cold inside every time the major showed his face. He'd gotten to be an excellent actor when it came to behaving calm and collected around dangerous Germans but inside he was always scared of Hochstetter. One day, he was convinced the madman would simply pull out a weapon and shoot them all... and with Newkirk's luck, it would be for something that they really hadn't done.
And his fear of Hochstetter was a candle compared to the wildfire of terror he was feeling right now. The little bit of his mind that wasn't racing in little circles looking for a way out was wishing somehow that someone would show up to rescue him. A small part of him wondered if it wouldn't be better to just attempt an escape to get shot and not have to go through anything else. But the rest of his stubborn Cockney nature scoffed at that. He'd figure some way out, or maybe the Underground would help him.
He let his eyes flick over to Hendrich quickly and then back down the the car floorboards. How bad could it get? The memory of the humiliation of the night before rose up unbidden and he swallowed carefully and stopped thinking about it.
Kinch stood in the midst of the barracks waiting out the initial storm of reaction. "All right, ENOUGH!" he shouted over the din of voices. "I know! But there was nothing we could do without endangering half the guys in the camp." There was muttering but the men all quieted. "I'm going to go to Klink and raise a fuss as much as I can. Baker..." The quiet black POW stepped forward through the crowd. "Get downstairs and call any of the Underground you can safely contact. Give them descriptions and see if any of them can tell us where Hendrich is or where he's going. If we're all very lucky, maybe they can even free Newkirk." The muttering turned at least slightly positive. "Carter, make us some grenades and smoke bombs. I don't know if we'll be able to use them but at least we will have them on hand. LeBeau and Olson, talk to the guards and find out if any of them have an idea where Hendrich might have been headed." Kinch raised his hands above everyone and shook his head as a fuss began again. "Look, we can't go storming out of the camp and find him!"
One of the younger men from another barracks spoke up angrily. "Why not!? If Colonel Hogan was here, he wouldn't have ever let the bastard take Newkirk to begin with!"
Before Kinch could speak, Carter pushed through to stand nose-to-nose with the young prisoner. "Hey! It's not Kinch's fault! If Colonel Hogan was here, everything would be different but he's NOT here! If you're going to wish for stupid things, wish the whole stupid war was over and Hitler was dead and we all were home!" The outrageous speech from Carter made everyone shut up. The crowd shuffled their feet and looked around uncomfortably. "We can't make it not happen so let's see what we can do to get Newkirk back, okay?"
"Carter's right." Olson put an arm over Carter's shoulders. "Good to see that you can actually get angry there, Sergeant." While Carter flushed in embarrassment, Olson nodded to the surrounding men. "Okay, I say everyone can make sure to show the Krauts how upset we are. Don't get into trouble, don't touch any Krauts, but we can sure make it clear that we want our Newkirk back and we aren't going to be happy until we do. Maybe Klink will feel the pressure. What do you say, Kinch?"
Kinch nodded tiredly. "Don't get anyone in trouble. It's not like I could ask anyone to act happy about all this anyway." He wiped his face. "Colonel Hogan is never going to leave me in charge again."
Carter grimaced in sympathy. "Sure he will. Who else does he have?"
End Chapter
Ahhh, I told you Hendrich would be leaving... *you know who you are!*
I realize that part of Newkirk's French made no sense. That's why I deliberately left in the translation, so anyone who speaks French won't get caught up on the "That makes no sense!". He doesn't speak very good French. German, yes. French, no. Especially in the middle of a riot scene while being threatened by a crazed Nazi. LeBeau cringes in sympathy for all the French speakers.
More soon. I am doing well with the updating once a week, and unless a disaster strikes, I plan on continuing the once a week postings. Well, unless the pitchforks and torches come out.
Thank you for reading!