"Hey, this story about no prisoners ever escaping from here - is that true, or was that long streak of misery putting us on?"
An hour into the poker game, and the new prisoners were starting to relax in the social atmosphere of Barracks 2. Hogan had retired to his office, guessing that the visitors would talk more freely to other enlisted men than in the presence of an officer.
Mills hadn't taken up the invitation. In fact, when Newkirk and Kinch had arrived at Barracks 18, laden with the necessities of prison life they had gathered for the new arrivals, he'd hardly even seemed aware of their presence. While the others had been full of questions about Stalag 13, he had kept to himself. It was only Newkirk's cheerful persistence which had gotten him to accept the offer of a couple of worn but respectable uniform coveralls to supplement his existing outfit, which apparently consisted of little more than the clothes on his back.
But three of his barracks mates - Cooper, Adams and MacNeill - had turned up at Barracks 2 the next day, eager for a chance of a friendly game. They seemed all right, and once they'd gotten over the initial awkwardness of not knowing anyone, they were quite forthcoming about their units, and how they'd come to be shot down. MacNeill was the loudest, a big man with a big voice and a lot of opinions. But Cooper and Adams were outgoing enough.
It was Adams who threw the question into the hubbub of conversation. He was a nice kid, with so little guile that Newkirk not only knew when he had a good hand, but could even have named the cards. It had taken him less than ten minutes to disclose his squadron, his home town and the names of his best girl, his two brothers and the family dog.
The long-term prisoners exchanged looks. "I hate to admit it," said Kinch, "but Klink was right. Not that we haven't been trying, but so far no luck."
"So let me get this straight." MacNeill leaned back in his chair, stretching. "You got a crummy prison camp with a boiled egg on stilts for a Kommandant, and nobody's ever made it out?"
"Oh, we get out," replied Carter, "but we always end up back here. It's kind of embarrassing, when you think about it."
"We'll pull it off, one day," said Newkirk.
"You got something going?" Adams' eyes fixed on him with a gleam of interest, but Newkirk, having thrown out the bait, had no intention of letting the fish bite too soon.
"Never mind about that," he said. "Carter, it's your bid."
Carter frowned over his hand for a moment, then pushed several of his matchsticks into the center of the table. "Boy, I'll be glad when we finally make it," he remarked. "A guy could go crazy, stuck in here with the same old routine, and the same old faces...not that I'm complaining about you fellers," he added hastily, with a glance around the table. "I mean, at least I'm not bunking in with an axe murderer, or some guy who picks his teeth, or anything like that. You guys are real easy to get along with."
"I guess that makes a difference, huh? The kind of guy who's sleeping in the next bunk, I mean." MacNeill's eyes rested on Kinch for a moment. "I'll raise you two," he added.
"Yeah, well, the other fellers that came in with us, they seem okay," said Adams.
Newkirk chuckled softly. "So far, anyway. Three weeks, and you'll be about ready to kill the one that talks with his mouth full, or the one that snores all night, or the absolute bastard with the chronic sniffle."
"Yeah, it's the little things that drive you insane at first," said Kinch. "After a while you get used to them."
"What about the not so little things?" asked Cooper.
"Them, too," said Newkirk. "How many cards, Cooper?"
"Two." Cooper studied his hand. He seemed to have forgotten his question, but Carter took it up.
"I guess there's not much you can't put up with, if you have to. I mean, what are you gonna do, move house? I don't think so."
"You got a problem with someone already, Cooper?" said Kinch.
Cooper shrugged. "Just saying. There's some guys got real bad habits."
"You mean like eating peas with their knife?" put in LeBeau, from the stove where he was busy with a stew. Adams had been eying the pot covertly for the last ten minutes.
"No, I mean like getting into stuff that's supposed to be hands off," replied Cooper.
"Stealing? Goes on all the time, right, Newkirk?" Carter grinned at his English buddy. "Someone swipes your stuff, you just wait for a chance to swipe it back."
Cooper gave a little smile, but didn't answer. A look passed between Kinch and Newkirk. But before either of them could pursue the matter, an interruption occurred.
"Achtung! What is going on in here? You know that visiting between the barracks is against the rules, and gambling is strictly verboten." Schultz, overflowing with irritable officiousness, threw the door open and lumbered in.
MacNeill gaped at him, Cooper started to his feet, and Adams dropped his cards, but the Barracks 2 men didn't even blink. "We're not gambling, Schultz," said Newkirk. "It's just a friendly game to help our new chums start feeling at home."
"No, Newkirk, it is still against regulation," grumbled Schultz. "Kommandant Klink has been very clear. He doesn't want the new prisoners getting into bad company and learning bad habits."
"Oh, come on, Schultz. You're usually the first one looking to join in," observed Kinch, regarding the guard with grave displeasure. "How come nobody cares if you get into bad company?"
Schultz primmed up his mouth. "Because for me, it's too late."
"I'll say it is," said Carter, snickering. "If there's any bad company round here..."
"What's all the noise?" asked Hogan, emerging from his office. "Can't a guy get some sleep round here?"
"It's just Schultz, busting up our game, Colonel," said Kinch.
"Schultz? Busting up a card game? Since when?"
"I am sorry, but those are my orders. You men, back to your own barracks." Schultz gestured toward the outsiders.
Hogan rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Okay, fellers, some other time."
It was obvious they weren't happy. But they did as they were told, Cooper with an indifferent shrug, MacNeill with a glare, and Adams with a reluctant, wistful glance towards the saucepan on the stove. Schultz, apologetic but determined, followed them out.
"That young lad wants feeding up," observed Newkirk, as he gathered up the cards. "Pity we couldn't have invited him to stay for dinner."
"Yeah, I reckon we'd have gotten his whole life story," said Kinch. "He sure didn't hold back, Colonel. MacNeill had plenty to say, too. Cooper, not so much, but enough so we can verify his story. It's just a pity he left so soon. He was just about to dish up some dirt on one of the others when Schultz shoved his oar in."
"Anything interesting?" said Hogan, his eyes narrowing a little.
"He thinks one of them's dodgy in some way," replied Newkirk. "But he didn't get round to saying who, or what it is about them he doesn't like."
"He was dancing around it," added Kinch. "Didn't want to say it right out. From what he said, it sounded like he thinks they've got a thief in there. But he wasn't exactly clear about it."
"If that's all it is, Jeffries should be okay to sort it out. But I'd like to be sure." Hogan pursed his lips. "It's probably a couple of weeks since some of them had a change of clothes. Now they've got something else to wear, they'll be pretty anxious to wash the stuff they arrived in. I'll go over and tell Jeffries that they can use the prisoners' laundry tomorrow after roll call, same time as we're doing ours."
"What if Schultz decides to throw his weight around some more?" asked Kinch.
"Then everyone better take cover," replied Newkirk, with a low chuckle.
"We'll just have to make sure Schultz is otherwise engaged," said Hogan. "LeBeau..."
"Oui, I know. I'll make the strudel tonight," sighed the chef.
"Newkirk, you talk to Cooper, and find out what the hell he was hinting at," Hogan went on. "There's Mills, as well. I still want to know what the deal is there. Carter, you're the most harmless-looking. See what you can get out of him."
"Okay," said Carter, his brow wrinkling as if he wasn't sure whether harmlessness was a desirable attribute, especially in wartime. "The usual questions?"
"Yeah. Keep it light. If he gets touchy, back off. But if he seems likely to talk, then you show willing to listen."
"You think there's something iffy about him, Colonel?" asked Newkirk.
"I just want to check him out," replied Hogan. "I don't think he's working for the Krauts, he's got the wrong attitude. Informants usually go to a lot of effort to seem like just one of the guys. There's something else going on with Mills. Okay, it could be just his way of handling the situation, and he'll snap out of it once he settles in. But I'd rather be certain. I don't want to wake up one morning to find out I was wrong."
He didn't say any more, but his men knew what he was thinking. Some men coped reasonably well with the physical and mental stresses involved in capture and imprisonment. Others found the experience hard to deal with. A very small number became so desperate, they would do anything to get out, one way or another.
If Mills fell into that category, there was likely to be rough weather ahead.