First, thank you all for the feedback and reviews! Sorry for the abrupt posting last week but I had a four hour drive and had just barely remembered to post a new update before leaving.
As always thank you to TinySprite and Bits and Pieces and all my author friends for all the assistance and feedback and encouragement. Thank you to all you readers too!
For this chapter, all dialogue in italics will be spoken German.
Chapter 14
Within seconds, the room was in an uproar. The startled guard was pointing and shouting while everyone else erupted. Burkhalter's voice finally rose above the rest. "Silence!"
As everyone quieted, Newkirk looked up and raised his chained hands cautiously. "Kamarad?"
"Quiet." Burkhalter switched to German. "The Englander is my prisoner. He is of no consequence."
Newkirk kept his eyes wide and continued his act of ignorance. It was made more difficult as the protests continued.
"Herr general, this is an incredible security breach! An enemy soldier in the same room while we discuss the war?" The first Major-General stood and gazed down at the prisoner. "Why, he has already heard enough to be a risk! My guard will take care of this." A motion brought one of the German privates from the door. "Take him outside and shoot him."
Struggling to keep panic from his face, Newkirk got to his feet when the private gestured to him. Trying to look agreeable to whatever the guard wanted, Newkirk showed his cuffed wrists to the guard. "Am I supposed to go with you?" His open and innocent expression invoked the very image of a lamb being led to slaughter. He just hoped that reality didn't play out in the same manner.
Burkhalter stopped the fuss by slamming a hand onto the table. "Halt! Sit back down, Corporal Newkirk!"
He sat quickly. "Yes, herr general. I was just trying to do as I'm told." He blinked in confusion at everyone. On the inside he was hoping they would all buy his act of ignorance.
General Burkhalter snorted. "I am your captor and you will do as I say." He switched back to German. "The prisoner does not speak German beyond a few of the most common phrases. He understands nothing." His eyes flicked over to the POW. "I'd have him shot myself if that were not true." When Newkirk didn't show even the slightest response, he relaxed again. "Let us return to business."
Although the other officers showed doubt and annoyance in their expressions, none dared to speak up. The SS guard stood very near Newkirk watching him. Newkirk eyed him back for a few minutes before shifting himself up against the wall and putting his head on his drawn-up knees to doze. On the inside he listened intently to every word at the table. There was no way for him to make notes so he would simply have to remember all of the important bits as best he could. Letting his body relax into a semblance of sleep, he noted how many German troops were moving into which sector and where armored divisions were being sent. He was so intent on repeating the facts to set them in his memory that it took a sharp nudge from a jackboot to bring him aware.
Dietrich motioned him to his feet. "Come, Englander. Now." A quick glance showed the general deeply in discussion with the others about wines and liquors. "Raus!"
Getting to his feet, Newkirk followed the thin guard out of the room and downstairs. Dietrich said, "You will help me bring dinner up to General Burkhalter and his guests. Do you understand?" Because he'd spoken in German, Newkirk's only response was a blank stare. "Of course you don't. You must be a very stupid Englander if you still can't speak German. The general told me you've been a prisoner for years. German is not that hard to learn." He looked at Newkirk. "Are you really that stupid, Englander?"
Newkirk smiled suddenly and pointed to himself. "Jawohl! Englander!"
Dietrich rolled his eyes. "I hope not all Englanders are so stupid. When we take over England, you'll all be hopeless as servants to the Third Reich." Shaking his head, he gave Newkirk a light shove to the left. "Kitchen is this way."
Just to be a little annoying, Newkirk repeated himself. "Englander. Newkirk." The more stupid that Dietrich believed him to be, the more Newkirk could get away with. Highly intelligent prisoners attempted to scout out buildings for sabotage and/or escape attempts. Stupid prisoners 'got lost' and had to be located and led back to where they belonged. Intelligent prisoners ended up shot as spies. Stupid ones were chided and cuffed in the head. Newkirk preferred a good slap to a bullet every time. So he smiled blankly, mispronounced everything and took a few tries to guess what was wanted from him. Dietrich wasn't a bad sort, overall. He only called the POW a dummkoph and smacked him once when he spotted Newkirk trying to steal a roll from a tray. He even gave the prisoner back the roll after Newkirk gave him a stammered apology and a fearful expression.
Carrying a covered tray, Newkirk felt rather pleased so far. He could manage Dietrich and Friedrich. Burkhalter was harder to dance around but so far he hadn't slipped up. Herman... well, Newkirk thought to himself, Herman didn't hit even half as hard as Hendrich had.
Having waited on Klink's table for dinner engagements came in handy once again. Dietrich assisted him as plates and utensils were placed in their correct places. Once wine was poured, Burkhalter gave Dietrich a significant look and the guard took Newkirk by the back of his jacket and put him back into his corner. Although he wanted to make a pithy comment about being manhandled, Newkirk chose to sit down quietly with a nervous glance to Burkhalter. The general was already fully involved in his meal and paid no mind to his prisoner.
The mealtime conversation was mostly food-related with a few choice comments on various German officials who were not currently in favor. Newkirk ignored it and only eyed the table a few times to see if he'd gain any sympathy food. His stellar 'starving prisoner act' was roundly ignored by everyone except for Friedrich. The aide got a ghost of a smile at the attempts but seeing as he wasn't eating himself, he was in no position to offer anything. Newkirk gave up after a few minutes and settled his head on his knees again to rest. Inside his head, he was trying to put the information he'd heard earlier into a concise form that he could remember.
After mulling it around, Newkirk put as many of the facts as possible into as few lines as needed and tried memorizing those as if for a performance. If he could keep an entire show's worth of banter in his head and use it while juggling magic tricks and prat falls, he should be able to keep all of his gleaned facts and tactical information straight as well. He didn't dare try writing any sort of notes.
He was so zoned out that he missed Herman's first order to get up. Herman's boot to his hip got his attention quickly.
His yelp made Burkhalter give them both a look of annoyance. Newkirk shut his mouth on the protest he was about to make and Herman took half a step back. The general's attention went back to his guests who seemed to be gathering their things to leave. A few still sent glares towards the POW in the corner. Newkirk got to his feet slowly, trying to act as if the shackles on his wrists were hampering him. In truth he didn't know why Herman was getting him up and part of him worried that someone had changed Burkhalter's mind about the potential of Newkirk being a spy.
Following Herman's gruff directions, Newkirk was taken down to the kitchen again and shoved into a corner. Herman pointed at the floor and glared and Newkirk sat. At this rate, he'd learn to roll over in no time. But he reminded himself that the corner of the kitchen was greatly preferable to a wall outside in the courtyard with a rifle pointed at him. After a few minutes, Friedrich joined them and the kitchen help began to set out food. Apparently it was meal time for the guards. Newkirk supposed that Dietrich would eat afterward. When the prisoner would eat was not apparent.
After making a large plate for himself, Herman took it out of the kitchen to eat in the bar. His comments made it clear that he was pleased to leave the troublesome prisoner to Friedrich. That didn't stop him from aiming a kick to one of Newkirk's ankles on his way out.
Glaring as he rubbed his ankle, Newkirk stayed in the corner and watched the cook's assistant doing menial prep work.
"Englander. Here." Friedrich was holding out a sizable chunk of brown bread. "Here, take it. It is good." He extended his hand further until Newkirk reached to take it.
Just shy of touching the bread, Newkirk hesitated, his eyes intent on Friedrich's face for any sign of a trick. Taking the bread quickly, he pulled back into the corner and waited to see if the German would do anything. When Friedrich went back to his own hearty meal, Newkirk spoke quietly. "Thank you." The Brit began to pull bits off the chunk of bread to eat. His jaw was still sore and he couldn't gulp down the bread with his usual haste.
The cook watched his careful chewing and went to the cabinet and filled a small cup. He started towards Newkirk and then stopped to look at Friedrich. "Is he dangerous?"
Friedrich chuckled at the thought and waved a hand. "Nein, he is harmless."
Stepping closer, the cook held out the cup. "Here, you can put your bread into some milk. It will be easier to eat."
Newkirk looked to his guard, feigning ignorance of the German words. Friedrich sighed and replied to the cook. "He doesn't speak anything but English. He isn't very bright." Turning to Newkirk, he switched to English. "This nice man is giving you some milk to soak your bread in. Take the cup and say 'thank you'. Say 'danke'." He nodded and motioned encouragingly.
Newkirk took the cup and made a grand show of correctly pronouncing his thanks. He wouldn't have been surprised had one of the them patted his head for being good but both of them turned to idle talk of the war.
He spent the next half hour drowning bread in his milk and eating carefully. The little cup of milk tasted rich and was as filling as a feast after days of no food. The cook began to refill his cup but Friedrich stopped him.
"You'll make him ill. He wasn't fed for several days." When the cook made a noise of dismay, Friedrich reassured him. "He will get proper care from General Burkhalter."
Newkirk let himself doze sitting in his corner as Friedrich lingered over his meal. Herman returned and started towards the prisoner but left when the aide ordered him back upstairs to relieve Dietrich.
The thinner guard appeared quickly and claimed a meal, seating himself next to the aide to eat. After a moment, Dietrich glanced at the corner. "Did someone feed the Englander?"
"Ja, ja." answered Friedrich absently. He noticed Newkirk's attention perking up at the mention of 'Englander'. "Nein, you will make yourself ill. The next meal, you can have more."
The cook was more sympathetic. "He looks hungry."
"He will go back to the Luft stalag. No reason to over-feed him now." Friedrich dropped himself out of Newkirk's 'favorite Kraut' category in favor of the cook.
"Are you saying that the Third Reich starves the prisoners of war?" The cook definitely rose to 'top Kraut'."
"Of course not. They are fed adequately." said Friedrich.
Dietrich seemed to take the cook's side simply to be perverse and annoy Friedrich. "Jawohl. He certainly looks as if he's gotten 'adequately fed' recently." He smiled and held up his hands in surrender as the aide bristled. "Don't blame me, I'm not the one starving the general's prisoner."
Friedrich gave them all a sour look. "Fine. Feed him and make him ill. When he is vomiting on the carpet, I will be certain the general knows who is to blame." His eyes flashed angrily but when Newkirk looked worried over the angry words, he relented. "Give him something bland."
The cook made up a bowl of beef soup and Newkirk happily accepted it with a repeated 'Danke!' to everyone. The broth was indeed almost too rich but it tasted so good that he didn't care. "This is marvelous soup. Me own mum couldn't make better in 'er day." He beamed a crooked smile out of his bruised face.
Friedrich grunted but translated to the other two Germans. "He says the soup is very good like his mother's soup."
The cook smiled and went back to his work but Dietrich frowned. "It's odd. I never thought about them having mothers."
"Of course they have mothers. And fathers and brothers and sisters. They don't hatch from nothing." said Friedrich with some exasperation.
"Ja. They climb up from the depths of Hell itself." The new voice was full with annoyance and belonged to a very worn looking SS lieutenant. He strode into the kitchen and both of Burkhalter's men jumped to attention. He waved them off. "Nein, I'm too tired for nonsense." He looked down at Newkirk who was frozen in his corner. "Why is there an Englishman in the kitchen?"
Friedrich stepped forward. "He is General Burkhalter's prisoner. We were feeding him." The aide seemed only a little nervous.
"Hmmph." The SS officer didn't seem impressed but turned to the cook. "Prepare a tray for four prisoners and take it to the cellar. I have some Underground agents in custody." He returned his gaze to Newkirk. "Don't expect them to come rescue you, they're under constant guard."
Dietrich spoke up hesitantly. "He does not understand you. He doesn't speak German."
"Hmmph." The officer stepped closer to Newkirk who drew slightly away. "You can put him in the cellar with my prisoners. I shall take care of him for you. We are going to Berlin in the morning to SS Headquarters to take the others for questioning."
Newkirk stopped breathing. He stared up at the cold eyes of the SS officer and knew he'd never live to make it to Berlin. This man hated him, most likely because he was RAF.
"Nein..." Friedrich was choosing his words carefully. "General Burkhalter is inspecting the stalag in a few days and will return him then. He is a Luftwaffe prisoner." He gave a tight smile. "Danke for your offer."
"Hmmph." A wave of one hand dismissed the entire situation. "Feed my prisoners. I leave early in the morning." The SS officer looked at Friedrich. "I shall pay my respects to the general at the evening meal." When he left the room the tension in the room dropped dramatically.
Friedrich took a breath and looked at the still wide-eyed Newkirk. "Eat your soup, Englander. What is wrong?"
"Is the SS officer going to shoot me?" Newkirk let the panic show in his face. He didn't think that a lieutenant would buck a general over one lone POW, but then, if he did, the fact that General Burkhalter would be upset afterward was little comfort. He'd be dead.
"So, you know of the SS?" Dietrich looked sly, as if he'd caught Newkirk in something.
Newkirk gave him a disdainful look. "Every POW knows the SS. Not one of the blokes in camp doesn't know the SS and they're bad news when they show up."
Friedrich spoke up. "Nein. You are a Luftwaffe prisoner. General Burkhalter will not allow the SS to take Luftwaffe property." Friedrich didn't notice the prisoner bristling.
"I am not property." Newkirk glared hard. "I might be a bloody prisoner but I'm no one's property."
"Eat your soup." Friedrich turned his back and began to speak quietly with Dietrich about the schedule of shifts the two guards were to take. Newkirk stared at his back for a moment and then finished off the soup. No matter how mad he might get, the soup was still tasty.
End Chapter
Thank you for reading. Anyone thinking that something in this chapter is going to be important?