"Hey, Sarge, can I talk to you?"
It was getting late and Kinch had come over to the shower block for a quick wash-down before curfew. He usually got over at least once a day, even in winter. Although use of the showers was restricted to certain hours, the taps over the long trough at one end of the building were always operating, and Kinch was just one of a number who preferred a cold wash to no wash at all.
As it happened, he had thought himself alone, until he heard the timid voice addressing him from the doorway. He wiped his face with one hand, and looked over his shoulder.
"What's up, Adams?" he asked, reaching for the threadbare towel hanging on a nail above the trough.
"Uh...nothing. Forget it, it doesn't matter."
"Obviously it does," replied Kinch, "otherwise you wouldn't be here." He finished scrubbing the towel over his chest and arms, and pulled his undershirt over his head. Then he glanced at Adams. "Something's bugging you. You want to talk to someone, but not anyone in your barracks. And you want it to be in confidence, which is why you came in here when I was alone. Am I right?"
Adams wavered. "I don't want to squeal on anyone. It's just I'm scared something's gonna happen, something bad. I don't know what to do, Sarge."
"Okay, take it easy," said Kinch. "Let's see if we can work this out." He paused, frowning slightly as he regarded the young soldier. "Something bad, you said. How bad?" Then, seeing the indecision in Adams' face, he went on. "I know there's a lot of bad feeling among the guys in your barracks. Is it something to do with that?"
"There was some trouble last night," said Adams, in a low voice. "I don't want to say who it was, but I thought for sure they were going to give him a real whaling. Thing is, I just froze up, Sarge. I couldn't move a muscle. I just sat there, waiting for Mills get beaten up...oh, crap...I mean..."
"It's alright, Adams, I already guessed who you meant. It doesn't take a genius to work out who's the most likely man in Barracks 18 to find himself on the wrong end of a hiding. But it didn't happen."
Adams shook his head. "They backed off when Lieutenant Jeffries showed up. But I don't think that's the end of it. A couple of 'em have been getting together and talking. I couldn't get close enough to hear what they said, but they kept looking at Mills. I bet anything you like, they'll go for him again, first chance they get, and I don't think Jeffries is likely to butt in the next time. He was real mad at Mills."
Kinch couldn't disagree with him there. "Any chance you could get some of the others to stand up to them? Even if they don't care what happens to Mills, you could point out that if anything happens, and the Krauts find out about it, the whole barracks ends up getting punished."
"Cooper might play along. He was the only one who spoke up last night. But, gee, Sarge, I don't know," said Adams uneasily. "He didn't seem so worried about Mills, more about getting in trouble with the guards. And I don't know as they'll listen to me. Far as they're concerned, I'm just a big dumb kid from the sticks, who doesn't know anything."
"Well, they got that wrong," said Kinch. But he didn't press the point, knowing how likely it was that the troublemakers would turn on any man who stood up to them on Mills' behalf. It would help nobody if Adams got himself roughed up. "Tell me something. You're really okay with Mills?"
Adams went red. "Well, I don't exactly like it, it seems wrong for a guy to be like that. But my pa always says, no matter what people say about a man, you should always give him a chance before you write him off. And it's pretty tough, ganging up on a feller who's only here because he was doing his bit for the war, just like the rest of us."
Kinch nodded. "That's about how I see it."
"I guess it looked a bit fishy, though," Adams went on. "Seeing as he was all set to sneak out of the barracks, I mean."
"Who?"
"Mills. That's what started it off last night. He wouldn't say where he was going. The other guys said some stuff about him maybe meeting up with some of the guards." Adams had blushed again, leaving Kinch in no doubt of what had actually been implied. The kid was almost as easily embarrassed as Carter. "But I've been thinking, and I don't see any sense in it, not in the middle of the night when he's likely to get caught leaving the barracks. They got all day for that sort of stuff."
"Yeah." Kinch pursed his lips in thought. "Okay, Adams. I'll take it to Colonel Hogan, and see if he can fix something up. In the meantime, keep your eyes open, and if you think there's going to be trouble, let us know. It's getting late, so you'd better get back to your barracks." Then, recognizing uncertainty in the young man's eyes, he added. "Don't worry. You did the right thing, telling me."
"Thanks, Sarge." Adams slipped away, and Kinch, his head in a spin over this new complication, headed back to bring Hogan up to date.
His barracks mates were engaged in the usual activities which served to pass the time until lights out: card games, letter-writing, reading. Hogan had joined the crush around the table, listening while Newkirk held forth about one of his more outlandish romantic escapades. Any guard who looked in would see nothing to indicate that a few hours from now, some of these men would be miles from camp, sabotaging a bridge.
Kinch hung the damp towel over the end of his bunk to dry. Turning round, he caught Hogan's eye, and jerked his head slightly towards the colonel's quarters.
"... well, suffice to say, from then on her contortionist act had a whole new twist in it," Newkirk finished up, earning a shout of laughter from his audience.
"Okay, Newkirk, that's enough for one evening," said Hogan, with a grin. "Any more, and nobody's going to get any sleep tonight." He stood up, nodded to Kinch, and went into his office. Kinch followed.
"What's up, Kinch?" asked Hogan as soon as the door was closed.
Without any preamble, Kinch repeated the information he'd gotten from Adams. Hogan listened, his eyebrows drawing in as he got the picture. For a minute or so after Kinch had finished, he sat in silence, pondering.
"What are we going to do, Colonel?" said Kinch at last. "I don't like this business of Mills trying to leave the barracks at night. It seems kind of suspicious to me."
"Me, too," murmured Hogan. "But I think Adams is on the right track. In any case, Mills hasn't been here long enough to get that well acquainted with the guards. My guess is, he was planning to go over the wire. He seems desperate enough to risk it. And if it was that, then he may try again."
"But we're not going to let him, right?"
"Right," said Hogan decisively. "The rule stands, no escapes. Anyway, he wouldn't stand a chance, not without clothes or documents." He paused for a moment, his brow furrowed and his arms folded across his chest. "We can't do anything until that bridge is taken care of. It's a priority assignment, and I'm not about to jeopardize it by starting trouble in camp while we've got three men outside. First thing tomorrow, I'll have another little chat with Lieutenant Jeffries, and remind him that his responsibilities extend to all the men in his barracks."
"You think that'll be enough, Colonel?" asked Kinch.
"I doubt it, but it might buy us some time to get to the bottom of this whole mess." Hogan nodded towards the door. "Don't say anything to the others. I don't want them distracted while they're out on a mission."
"Right, Colonel."
The sabotage team left on schedule, shortly after lights out. They had been doing this for long enough for it to feel like business as usual. Even Carter was unusually matter-of-fact about it, considering it involved explosives.
"He still thinks he made a mess of things with Mills, Colonel," remarked Kinch, as he and Hogan returned to the barracks after seeing off the expedition. "But I'm not so sure it was his fault."
Hogan paused at the foot of the ladder. "It wasn't. No matter who tried to talk to Mills, it wasn't going to work out. Something's really got him spooked." He ascended to the barracks, and waited at the top for Kinch to join him. "You'd better get some sleep," he said, speaking quietly to avoid disturbing the rest of the men. "The boys won't be back till..."
He broke off abruptly. After a couple of seconds he whispered, "Close the tunnel." Then he strode over and opened the door. For a moment, he stared at the young man who stood outside, shivering.
"Sorry, sir," Adams stammered. "It's just, Sergeant Kinchloe said if there was trouble..."
"Now?" said Hogan sharply. "Okay, I'm coming. Kinch..."
"Right with you, Colonel," said Kinch. "Watch out for the searchlight."
Keeping well in the shadows, Hogan made his way swiftly between the buildings, with Adams and Kinch just behind him.
The skeletons of the two unfinished huts gleamed in the moonlight. Barracks 18 appeared to be quiet, but as the three men neared it, a gleam of light escaped between the ill-fitting shutters on one of the windows, and the sound of raised voices reached them. Hogan glanced in both directions to make sure no guards were in sight, then ran to the door.
The spectacle that greeted him, illuminated only by a couple of wildly unsteady flashlights, looked bad enough. At first sight it seemed as if most of the inmates of the barracks were involved in a free fight.
"What the hell is going on here?" Hogan demanded in a low furious voice.
The men at the back of the crowd drew aside. Apparently they were just spectators. The active participants, however, weren't about to welcome the interruption. One of them, his fists still clenched, turned on the intruder with a snarl of fury: "Mind your own goddamned business, pal."
"This is my business, Sergeant," replied Hogan, just as one of the flashlight beams steadied, shining directly on him. MacNeill froze, his eyes widening, then stepped back, squaring his jaw, an angry scowl on his face.
Hogan looked past him to the center of the disturbance. MacNeill and a couple of others Hogan couldn't put names to had clearly come together as a team, with a common purpose and a common enemy. Their target had taken a defensive position in the corner between the outside wall and one of the bunks, but without support he couldn't have held it for long.
It was too dark to tell whether he'd taken any damage, but he was breathing hard, and looked to be unsteady on his feet.
For a few seconds, Hogan surveyed the scene. "Well?" he said at last. "I asked a question, I expect an answer."
"Just a little disagreement, sir," murmured Cooper, from somewhere in the background. "I guess it probably got a bit out of hand."
"Yeah, I can see that. Some of you seem to have forgotten who we're actually at war with."
"He's been asking for it," growled MacNeill. "He's..."
"I don't want to hear it," snapped Hogan. "This isn't some bar-room in Poughkeepsie, it's a prison camp, and like it or not, you're still in the army. You have a problem, you sort it out without getting into an all-in brawl. Is that clear?" He waited for a moment, but none of the men dared argue. "Good. Where's Jeffries?"
"In his quarters, sir," said Cooper
Without another word, Hogan stalked across to the door of the little cubicle, while Kinch moved to stand between Mills and the rest of the men. "You'd better let it drop," he said. "The guards would just love to see you fighting among yourselves, but that doesn't mean they won't break it up with a few bullets, and they're not that particular about who they shoot. Lights out was an hour ago, I suggest you all hit the sack."
From the malevolent glare MacNeill sent towards Mills, it wasn't over. But with the rest of the men already dispersing, and Kinch holding his ground with unshaken resolution, he seemed unwilling to press his luck. Adams had slipped in unobserved, and was already in his own bunk, looking like he'd never left it. Mills remained where he was, as though preparing himself for a renewal of the attack.
He was probably right, Kinch thought. Unless Hogan could knock some sense into Jeffries, and get him to take charge of the situation, it was a safe bet hostilities would resume the minute Barracks 18 was left to itself.