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Chapter 13
Newkirk dozed through most of the night. Herman had relieved Dietrich in the wee hours of the morning and had promptly checked that Newkirk was in his assigned place by walking over and putting a boot into his side. The soft yelp of pain seemed to satisfy him and by the time Newkirk could get himself upright to look about in confusion, Herman was settling into the chair by the door.
"Bloody wanker." Shifting himself back to the floor, Newkirk rubbed his sore ribcage and made sure that his injured rib was to the floor as best protected as he could manage. It wasn't long before he was dozing again.
When Friedrich arrived, he brought Burkhalter's breakfast. The general was a grumpy riser and snapped at his aide until well after he'd consumed coffee and a sizable amount of food. Their prisoner sat quietly in his corner, wrapped in the blanket, completely asleep again. He woke up with a slap to his head by Herman. Mumbling insults under his breath, Newkirk shrugged out of the blanket and then instantly forgave the guard when he handed over a chunk of still warm bread. He even felt a slight fondness for the bastard when he found a slight smear of marmalade on it.
"Danke herr Unteroffizier." pronounced Newkirk carefully. He savored every little bite, despite the sore jaw and bruises. When he was licking his fingers, Friedrich gave him a cup with the last coffee from the bottom of the pot. Even with it being the dregs after all the Germans had had their own coffee, it was leaps and bounds better than anything he'd had in camp since the last time that Klink had had guests walk out in the middle of a luncheon.
In the time it took Newkirk to drink the lukewarm coffee, Dietrich and Friedrich had all of Burkhalter's gear packed and carried down to the car. They were leaving the hotel before most of the hotel's occupants were even awake. Newkirk revised his opinion of the fat little general upwards a bit. He'd been underestimating Burkhalter when it came to ability and efficiency. Of course... he watched Friedrich cheerily handing Burkhalter's briefcase to him... a lot of the efficiency was due to his aide.
If Hogan ever needed to cripple Burkhalter for a few days, Newkirk would bet the easiest way would be to remove Friedrich. Herman stepped towards him and Newkirk got to his feet quickly before the guard could 'encourage' him.
Friedrich snapped at Herman and the guard grumped a little but allowed the POW to fall into line behind the aide without any additional thumps or kicks.
There were curious stares as the German general and his entourage and prisoner loaded into the staff car that Dietrich had brought around. For a moment, Herman eyed the front passenger seat and Newkirk. A quick question brought a scathing retort from Burkhalter about the inappropriate nature of placing an enemy soldier next to the driver of the car. Herman seemed perfectly happy to take the front passenger seat with Dietrich driving, leaving the General and his aide to the back seat with a uneasy Newkirk sharing the space. The staff car had plenty of space in the back seat, even with Burkhalter's case of paperwork. The last staffcar ride Newkirk had taken had been exceptionally unpleasant with exceptionally unpleasant company.
This morning he twisted his hands together nervously and tried not to look directly at either of the Germans. When Burkhalter spoke to him, he startled and slid further away before he could stop himself.
"So Corporal Newkirk..." Burkhalter paused while Newkirk calmed himself. "Why don't you tell us about England?"
Suddenly wary, Newkirk looked out of the car window and shrugged. "Not much to tell."
"I'm not asking for state secrets or battle strategy, Corporal." Burkhalter seemed amused.
"Well that's good. Considering I've been a bleeding prisoner for the last three years, I think me information would be out of date, if I were so inclined to be giving up intel to the enemy, so to speak, herr general." Newkirk kept his tone light and hoped Burkhalter wouldn't take his refusal to answer amiss.
"Of course. Instead, tell us about interesting things. What do you have for breakfast in England?" Friedrich was relaxed, watching the prisoner think over the question.
"Oh... well..." Newkirk settled back into the car seat. Maybe the car rides wouldn't be quite so bad.
The car ride indeed was not unbearable. Burkhalter attempted to ask leading questions a few times, but Newkirk felt as if it was more out of idle curiosity and habit rather than a true interrogation. The roads were full of potholes that made sure no one could truly nap during the drive. Even so, Newkirk caught himself dozing a few times during lulls in the conversation.
When they arrived, he climbed out of the vehicle with an effort, stepping out of Burkhalter's way but immediately scooting back over next to the car door when a pair of German soldiers passing by eyed him. He missed Burkhalter's quiet orders to Herman while he was peering around the area.
"Englander!" Herman snapped at him. Newkirk turned to find the guard holding a set of chains. "Now."
Newkirk sighed at General Burkhalter as Herman securely fastened the shackles on his bruised wrists. He'd really had enough of wearing restraints. Herman gave him a warning look and jerked the chain. "Ow... bastard." said Newkirk mildly.
General Burkhalter's slight grunt of annoyance made Herman back off and Newkirk shut his mouth. The rotund general rocked back and forth on his heels as he gazed dispassionately at his prisoner. "You understand, Corporal, appearances must be kept. It would not do for me to be seen in the company of a RAF airman unless it was completely clear that he were a prisoner."
Newkirk nodded as he twisted his wrists in the metal cuffs. "Of course, herr general. I'd prefer to keep that clear meself." He smiled grimly, indicating his own face with one bound hand. "Of course, most folks would assume such, considering me own state of disrepair, so to speak." When Herman made a small move, he hastily added, "No offense to the general, of course." He eyed Herman warily.
Burkhalter's chuckle made them both relax slightly. "Then we are all satisfied. Hendrich did do me a small service. I would have needed to beat you myself if you looked too healthy." Loftily ignoring Newkirk's wary glare, Burkhalter turned to his patient aide. "Friedrich, lead the way. And do try to be sure that my lunch is presentable today. These meetings are tedious and poor food puts me in a foul mood." The aide reassured him of the meal quality as they moved inside the hotel.
Newkirk gave a little sigh of relief when Herman stayed behind to take the staff car away. The thin stoic Dietrich might not act friendly like Friedrich, but he also didn't kick Newkirk when he felt the general wasn't watching either. Newkirk made certain to stay close by his guard when they walked through the hotel to the front desk. Stoic guards were preferable to unfriendly civilians or random German soldiers. He spotted a pair of SS officers leaving and stepped even closer to Dietrich who gave him an irritated mumble. Newkirk didn't care if he was annoying. If it kept him safe from the SS, he'd climb into Burkhalter's own pocket.
While he was keeping an eye on the SS, Friedrich had arranged Burkhalter's rooms. Soon enough, Newkirk was in another hotel suite looking about automatically for escape routes he wouldn't use, items of value he wouldn't steal and had located the room safe, which although his fingers itched at the thought, he would not open.
His examination of the room had made Dietrich narrow his eyes suspiciously. Before he could do more than glower, Friedrich had come through, nearly running over Newkirk in his haste. "Put yourself out of the way, Englander. You are a pest underfoot." Friedrich had a little half smirk for the POW as he spoke and Newkirk took the hint and found an empty corner near the window and stood in it. Herman arrived with the rest of Burkhalter's things, including the oh-so-tempting briefcase. The thief in him wanted to open the joke of a lock and pilfer the contents. But the POW in him wanted to stay alive and on his way back to Stalag 13. Newkirk preferred itchy fingers to being dead in a ditch.
An hour later, Burkhalter was seated with two Major-Generals and one unhappy looking SS major. Newkirk had long since scrunched himself down to sit in the corner hoping that if he sat very still, no one, especially not the SS man, would notice one lone RAF prisoner seated on the floor. So far even the bodyguards hadn't paid any attention to him. Newkirk had continued his act of not speaking German and Burkhalter seemed to buy it. It helped that the general had a low opinion of Newkirk's intelligence as well. Instead of being insulted, the Brit was pleased. Stupid non-German-speaking POWs were no threat to Burkhalter. Considering that the most recent threat to the general had been stood up against a wall and shot, Newkirk would be just as stupid as needed.
His luck wasn't good enough to hold for long. The SS major's guard stepped over to the room's single window to look out in a bored manner. As he turned back to the rest of the room, his eyes stopped on Newkirk down in his corner. The way he jumped away while shouting in alarm would have made the Englishman laugh – if it were not for the gun that appeared and pointed at him.
end Chapter
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