Thank you all for the reviews and feedback. It is very much appreciated. I will be responding to each of the signed reviews over the weekend and I do apologize for not getting to that before now. It's been a crazy week! We also have a hurricane(tropical storm right now) headed for us by the beginning of next week, but I don't anticipate anything untoward from it.

Major thanks to TinySprite as ever, the bestest beta and writing friend a person could ever wish for. Thanks also to Bits And Pieces for keeping me encouraged and to all my writer friends for support.

Chapter 12

It could not have been more than another hour before the door opened to admit General Burkhalter's aide. Newkirk looked up at him hazily, struggling to bring himself to an alert state to deal with him. "'ello."

"Hello Corporal." Friedrich's English was good. It held a great deal of German accent but it was good enough to capture a stray bit of Newkirk's attention as he wondered where he'd learned it. "Here. Dress."

For a few seconds, Newkirk simply looked at the bundle of cloth being offered to him. Then he reached to take it, half expecting a blow to fall as he did so. It took him far too long to get dressed in the cleaned uniform. It was still damp along the seams, but he couldn't have cared less. As he slid his blouse back on, he winced at the pull to his broken rib.

"Here." Friedrich had retreated to the far side of the room while he dressed but returned suddenly. Newkirk dodged away, going to his knees on the floor and blocking the expected blows with his upraised arms. "Nein, nein... easy..." He lowered his voice to a soothing tone. "Look... are you hungry?"

Lowering his hands, Newkirk watched the aide's face as he held out his hands towards the POW cringing on the floor. "Y-y-yes... " He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, herr undter-officer."

Friedrich smiled slightly and shook his head. "Nein, not unteroffizier." He pointed carefully to his insignia. "I am stabsfeldwebel..." He waited while looking expectantly. "Try to say it, stabsfeldwebel."

"Stabs-weeble." whispered Newkirk. This was Burkhalter's aide, and he was looking much more friendly than Herman. The voice of doubt inside his head hissed at him that Jager had seemed very friendly to him too. "Stabs-de-weebler." His mantra of appearing stupid and helpless repeated itself.

Friedrich sighed softly. "Try Friedrich." He pointed to himself. "You may call me Friedrich, ja?"

"Friedrich." Newkirk hazarded straightening himself to a more upright position although he stayed kneeling on the floor. He pointed to himself. "Newkirk." His voice lowered again. "Kamarad. I'm English, I'm a prisoner."

"Ja. I know." Friedrich tried holding out his hand again, offering a single thick slice of dark brown bread. Just the sight of it made Newkirk's mouth water. His nostrils flared as he inhaled automatically, hoping to get to smell it. Tearing his eyes away from the bread, he looked at Friedrich's face carefully. "Here, Corporal Newkirk. Take it. It is bread, very good." When Newkirk made no move to reach out, he looked puzzled. "You are hungry, ja? It is very good bread." He put it up to his nose and smelled it himself and made a pleased face. "See? Here." He held it out again.

Hunger warred inside Newkirk. He shifted himself slightly and then seemed to deflate a little bit. "What do you want?"

It confused Friedrich. "Want? I want to give you something to eat."

"What do I 'ave to do?" Although he hadn't eaten solid food since his last meal at Stalag 13, Newkirk had been offered food once or twice. He'd learned quickly that it was offered only to try to bribe him into acts he'd rather starve than perform. He'd ended up beaten and forced anyway. Now his hopes that the general's aide might not be as bad fell. But he was so very hungry.

Friedrich's expression slowly changed to a pitying one. "Nein, you do nothing. Just have the bread." He searched for the word he wanted. "Free? You take the bread and eat it." He nodded, holding out the food. "General Burkhalter said to feed you. See?"

Newkirk's stomach clenched and demanded it and he gave up and took the bread. It was soft and smelled wonderful. They got brown bread at the stalag, often as their entire meal. But the tough chunks of bread in camp were nothing like this. Even the much better bread they smuggled into camp was usually at least stale. This was light and fluffy and richly flavored and to his frustration, his battered face wouldn't allow him to eat it quickly. He was reduced to tearing bits of it loose and chewing carefully. The slow consumption kept his stomach from rebelling however and even though it was not a large piece, his long empty belly declared itself full when he was done.

Friedrich had moved to sit in a chair and watched him lick his fingers in case there were stray crumbs. "I would bring you more to eat but it would make you ill, ja?" He could see the Englishman was at the frayed edges of his endurance. "General Burkhalter will be busy for some time. You may rest until he returns." Again there was a wary look and a long assessment before the statement was accepted.

Despite his attempts to stay alert, Newkirk eventually propped himself against a wall and let his eyes drop nearly closed. Telling himself that he would only rest a bit, his body betrayed him and he dropped into an uneasy sleep.

He awoke to Herman shaking him like a rag doll. Flailing his way free, he scrambled away on hands and knees. A heavy boot knocked him flat and held him facedown on the carpet. "Kamarad! Bitte!"

Burkhalter's voice sounded displeased. "Let him up. I cannot question a prisoner who is too terrified to speak." He waited while Newkirk righted himself, hands in the air and eye wide. "Stand up Corporal Newkirk."

Stiff and sore, it took him a visible effort to get to his feet, keeping both hands up the whole time, just in case Herman decided he looked dangerous. "Yes, herr general." He bobbed his head subserviently and resolved to act as cowed as possible. His Cockney nature bristled and he ruthlessly stuffed it away.

"Put your hands down. You already surrendered." Burkhalter waited for him to lower his hands. "Now I want you to tell me the truth. Some of the other officers have declared that you were a willing participant. Did you ask to do this?" He had a formidable frown.

Newkirk stared at him and then spoke quietly. "Permission to speak freely, herr general?"

General Burkhalter rocked back on his heels. "Granted."

Taking a breath in, Newkirk tried to rein back his outrage in order to answer. "What kind of idiotic twit can ask 'did you ask to be beaten, humiliated, starved and abused for days, then raped to death by a bunch of deviant Nazis?" Odd, he hadn't even felt the reins slipping out of his control. His mouth probably just got him shot. After surviving everything Hendrich had done... he sighed. "Sir."

Burkhalter was staring at him with narrowed eyes. Herman was fingering his sidearm with a tiny smile of anticipation. Finally the general spoke calmly. "Your permission to speak freely is revoked." He pressed his lips in a thin line. "Forever. Am I understood, corporal?"

"Yes, herr general." Newkirk tried to go back to looking cowed.

Burkhalter paced away and back. "It is only the fact that you saved my life that keeps me from dropping you into the nearest labor camp." He paced again. "It would be much more convenient for me, you understand. No worrysome prisoner in my way and no embarrassing declarations of German abuse of a POW to the Red Cross." He began to turn away.

Newkirk heard the general reasoning away his life. He'd heard plenty about labor camps. The British POW wouldn't last more than a couple months at best if he went in right now. "It'd be idiotic for me to contact the Red Cross! Why would I want to make you look good!?" he blurted.

Turning back slowly, Burkhalter's frown deepened. "Would you care to explain, corporal? And this time, at least attempt to keep a respectful tone."

"Yes, herr general." Swallowing nervously, Newkirk chose his words with care. "The way I see it, the way the Red Cross would see it, that is... that a German Major-General was abusing prisoners in deviant ways, murdering them when he was... was finished." Burkhalter's expression darkened and Newkirk rushed on. "But but... as soon as it was reported to you, herr general, being the moral and ethical officer that you are, you immediately acted to stop him. I'm certain you would testify that you would have rescued all of 'is victims, 'ad you been aware of his inclinations. You even 'anded out the most severe punishment, seeing it carried out on the spot." Newkirk gave him the most admiring gaze he could muster out of his bruised and damaged face. "Why, you'd end up with a commendation out of it and me own government would probably blacklist me for being the victim!" He frowned. "You won't report it yourself, will you, herr general? I mean..." He was suddenly worried because his quickly constructed scenario actually sounded too plausible.

"I will consider it." Burkhalter stood and stared blankly for a moment while he thought about it. "Very well." He hand waved in a dismissive manner. "I shall return you to the Luft Stalag and Colonel Klink." His eyes crinkled a little at the corners. "And I give you permission to speak freely to him whenever you like."

"Thankee herr general." Newkirk looked up briefly and then gave a rueful little smile. "Kommandant Klink is very strict on us though. I wouldn't want to bring punishments down on me mates."

"Hmmph." Burkhalter seemed unamused but accepted the strange way the prisoners seemed to respect and fear Colonel Klink. After all, he'd seen too much evidence to think otherwise. "Well, shall I have my guards chain you up or will you give your word not to attempt to escape?" He paused. "You are not an officer, but I shall extend the offer of a promise... considering that you were honorable enough to save my life."

Newkirk hadn't had any thought of escaping and hoped the flash of surprise on his face was assumed to be due to the offer of his word being considered as good as an officer's. He snorted mentally, having little use for officers on the best of days... Colonel Hogan withstanding. "Thankee, General Burkhalter. I 'onestly don't believe I'd make it far even if you released me on the street." He smiled crookedly. "I do 'ereby give my word to not attempt escape." Suddenly he lost the smile. "While in your custody, of course... this doesn't apply to attempted escapes once I'm back in the stalag."

"Of course. Someone has to keep Klink busy." Burkhalter accepted his statement. "I will expect for you to behave with respect while in my custody and accept appropriate security measures when required. It will be a few days before we arrive back at Stalag 13."

"Yes, herr general," agreed Newkirk.

"Good. Then that is settled." Burkhalter turned and walked to the table in the room, motioning to Dietrich to bring his briefcase of papers over. "Dietrich, you will be responsible for making sure my prisoner is secure and cared for." His eyes shifted to the quiet prisoner. "Unless of course I have to shoot him."

Newkirk put on an alarmed look and shifted uneasily, even though he suspected the general was just trying to get a rise out of him. Better to make a show of how the barb hit home than to make a Kraut escalate to something more.

Dietrich left and the general settled and began to search through his papers. "We will leave early tomorrow. I have meetings and inspections to attend to. Stalag 13's inspection is in three days." His eyes flicked up to Newkirk. "I suggest you sit down somewhere out of the way and stay quiet."

"Yes, herr general." Newkirk found his comfortable corner and sat on the floor. The only chair not occupied by the general was next to the door and he wasn't going to act suspicious in any way. He might be bored but after the last time, he was satisfied to just rest in a corner quietly. No reason to make Burkhalter go back on his offer nor to give Herman a reason to smack him more.

When Friedrich reappeared in the room, he had a tray for Burkhalter who stopped his paperwork to make pleased noises at the food. Newkirk ignored his belly rumbling. He'd gotten bread earlier. He put his head down on his knee facing the wall. That was why he jerked in surprise when Friedrich touched him.

"Englander Newkirk." The aide held out a cup. "It is soup." His face became concerned. "You do not have to do anything for it."

"Thank you, Friedrich." said Newkirk carefully. He took the cup carefully, watching for any trick. His hands shook a bit and he held the cup with both of them to keep from spilling any of it. It was just chicken broth with a few bits of vegetables and it was ambrosia to him. He tried to drink it slowly. He made sure to get the last drops before he noticed Friedrich watching him. "Thank you. It was 'wonder-bar'."

"Ah, gut! But it is 'wunderbar'. Try it again." Friedrich waited while Newkirk repeated it again. "Better." He took the cup back. "There is water on the table, there." He pointed at a pitcher of water. The aide went back to wait on Burkhalter's table and the general had him take a seat to join him. The two chatted about unimportant subjects and arranged Burkhalter's upcoming schedule to his liking. Newkirk was pretending to ignore it as the conversation was in German.

He was half asleep when the Germans getting up brought his attention around again. He blinked up at Friedrich when he walked over to look down at him thoughtfully. Just before Newkirk began to get truly nervous, Friedrich took a deep breath. "You will behave, ja? You will sleep."

Newkirk nodded at him and scrunched himself up smaller. "Yes... ja, I promised not to escape." He blinked slowly. "I just want to rest."

"Ja, there will be a guard." Friedrich looked at Herman who was leaving to trade places with Dietrich in another room. "They will be standing guard in shifts for the general." He suddenly left the room, disappearing into the attached bedroom Burkhalter had appropriated. Newkirk leaned out to watch for his return. After another moment, the aide did return, smiling slightly for some reason when he saw Newkirk. "Ja, gut. You stay here." He dropped a blanket onto the prisoner's lap. "Bitte, Englander, do not make the guard punish you."

"No herr Friedrich." Newkirk put on his most meek and timid act as he wrapped the welcome blanket around himself and watched Dietrich enter the room and settle in the chair next to the door. Friedrich left, probably to go share the other room with Herman. The lights were turned off and soon the only light source was the crevice of light from under the door to the corridor.

When everything was quiet, Newkirk finally decided to get comfortable on the floor in his corner. He'd slept in far worse places through his life. The hotel room rug was even cleaner than his own bunk normally was, the blanket was certainly thicker. He shifted himself around to lie curled up on his side.

The slight noise of him moving about made Dietrich nervous. "Englander!" hissed the guard. "Nein. Be still."

"Ja... Englander..." Newkirk yawned as he answered quietly. "Sleeping." He heard a soft grunt of annoyance before the guard decided to settle back into his post next to the door. The Englishman lay on the floor and watched the very dim light under the door. It felt ridiculously good to just lie there and only feel nervous about the possibility of a German deciding to boot him or decide he was too much trouble and shoot him. That almost felt restful when he compared it to the nights previous with Hendrich and Otto. His fingers closed tighter on the blanket and drew it closer about him.

He told himself that the shivers were from the chill in the air and not from fear.

End Chapter

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