Chapter 21:
About another 48 hours had gone by, and Kinch had still not heard anything back from Berkman with any news on Walters. Hogan's men began to wonder whether Berkman could not find anymore information on Walters or he was just blowing it off like a lot of people in London did with their requests at times. Knowing the old general to be the way that he was, they assumed it was the first one.
While they continued to worry over London, Walters had his mind occupied on other issues. He would watch Klink constantly. At least three times a day the lieutenant would sit outside on the bench of barracks two and just gawk at the old German. The lieutenant wanted to know every detail possible on Klink and what would make the easiest time to try and kill him. His schedule, his behavior, how many times there were other people around watching him to make sure no one tried and caused harm to him. What he had picked up so far was that the morning proved to be the most easiest time to make his move. Klink usually was wandering around outside watching the other prisoners to make sure they were all behaving themselves.
Walters could not help himself but chuckle watching Klink. The man was a complete idiot to him. He chickened out over the smallest things and was not even competition when Hochstetter came around. He had heard Klink talk a few times about his superior officer, Burkhalter, quite a few times in the time he had been at Stalag 13 so far. He wondered what the man was like. Was he as bad as Klink? Was he like Hochstetter? Worse than Hochstetter? Was the man just as stupid as Klink was? It made him curious in knowing. Some of the Germans he had met so far were either as stupid and weak as Klink was, or tough and annoying like Hochstetter. Most of them were the stupid Germans. He wondered just how Burkhalter acted and worked. He would wait and see what this man did once he made an appearance at Stalag 13.
In the meanwhile, Walters would just keep with his plan in killing Klink and taking over the entire camp. If Burkhalter proved to be just as easy, maybe he would consider in taking up his position in power. Certainly, he would have more control than Klink had. He would not be just in control of Stalag 13, but all stalags in Germany. Walters gave an eerie grin and cackled softly to himself. Oh indeed, would he enjoy gaining control over Stalag 13 and starting his reign of terror over the entire camp. That, to him, was certainly worth waiting for.
Inside barracks two, Kinch was down in the tunnels monitoring the radio, LeBeau was cooking lunch, and Newkirk and Carter sat at the table playing a game of gin with one another. The four of them had nothing better to do, and they could not start planning their demise of Walters's terror until they heard back from London with or without any new information on the lieutenant.
"Andrew, please make a bloody move already," Newkirk begged, with irritation. He had been sitting there at the table for the past seven minutes waiting for his friend to end his turn and continue the game. Instead, Carter looked intently at his hand and with careful thinking, was deciding which card would prove worthy to him.
"In a minute, Newkirk. I'm thinking," Carter said, glancing up at his best friend quick.
The Englishman rolled his eyes.
"Bloody hell, Andrew, the war won't last that long."
Carter sighed and finally threw a card in.
"There, happy?" Carter remarked.
"Very," Newkirk answered. He looked down at his hand and analyzed his cards carefully. He needed to make sure that his move would guarantee his win against Carter. He was in the middle of thinking, when he smelled something terrible. Newkirk put his hand down on the table and started coughing and plugging his nose.
"Blimey! Louis, what are yah ruddy making?! Smells like something bleedin' died!"
"That's your lunch," LeBeau answered, annoyed. He was offended that his cooking was being compared to the rotting corpse of an animal. "Pont l'Eveque sprinkled over tarte flambée." The little Frenchman was proud of his French cuisine masterpiece. (1)
"I think I'll go hungry. Me appetite's gone already just smelling the ruddy thing." Newkirk remarked, still plugging his nose.
Carter, thinking it smelled bad, too, was less affected by it. The worst he did was cringe.
"Louis, is it supposed to smell like that?" The young sergeant worried.
"Oui. That means the cheese is just right, André," LeBeau said, smiling at his friend.
"Well, as long as it's supposed to smell like that, I guess I won't mind trying it."
"Andrew, it was nice knowing ya, mate," Newkirk said, sounding funny. Plugging his nose had an effect on how his voice sounded.
Kinch came out from the tunnels holding a piece of paper and closed the entrance. He took one quick whaff of the air and almost fainted. "Whoa!"
"Same reaction I had meself, mate," Newkirk said, still plugging his nose.
"Louis, what are you making? Are you sure whatever you're using didn't expire?" Kinch asked, waving at his nose to air the smell away from him.
"Louis's making pond elk and tart flomboy," Carter said.
LeBeau shook his head and rolled his eyes.
"Pont l'Eveque sprinkled over tarte flambée, André," LeBeau corrected.
"Oh," Carter replied, nodding.
"Sure has a...strong smell to it, LeBeau," Kinch said, cringing.
"You people have no respect for fine French cuisine," LeBeau accused. He turned back to his food and admired it as he inhaled the smells.
"What's that you got, Kinch?" Newkirk asked.
"General Berkman sent back what he could find out on Walters. This was all he could dig up on him." Kinch handed the Englishman the note to read.
Forgetting about the smell from LeBeau's cooking, Newkirk took the paper and read over it carefully.
"Kinch, this is Walters's criminal history. What the bloody hell do we do with this?!" Newkirk exclaimed.
The radioman crossed his arms.
"Read it," was all Kinch said.
Newkirk raised an eyebrow and did as Kinch said. He looked over the information and stopped coming to something that caught his eye. He looked over it more carefully and gasped.
"Blimey...are you sure, Kinch?"
"I asked General Berkman to repeat himself three times. I did not mishear him." Kinch answered.
"What is it?" Carter asked.
"Well, this is certainly something, isn't it?" Newkirk replied, ignoring the young sergeant.
"What is?" Carter wanted to know what was going on.
"Certainly takes a spin on things," Kinch said.
"What does?!" Carter cried.
"Gov'nor, if only you could see this," Newkirk muttered.
"What are you guys talking about?!" Carter demanded. The young sergeant was done with being ignored.
"Sorry, Carter. Didn't mean to ignore you there," Kinch said. He took the paper from Newkirk and let Carter take a look at it.
The younger sergeant read through the note, and his eyes gaped at what he came across along the information.
"Holy cats!" The younger sergeant cried. "Is this right?"
Kinch nodded.
"I'm afraid so, Carter." Kinch answered.
"What's going on?" LeBeau asked, wiping his hands on his apron.
"Look at that information General Berkman sent back to us," Newkirk said, still trying to process the information himself.
The little Frenchman took the sheet of paper and read over it. He threw it away from him as soon as he came across one part like it burned him to touch it. His eyes shot out of his head and the color in his face drained.
"Sacré chats!" LeBeau shrieked. "Tell me it isn't true, Kinch!"
"I wish I could, Louis, but I can't," Kinch said.
"He's...Walters is...he's a...he's," Carter was cut off by the radioman.
"Walters has pyromania...four accounts of setting abandoned warehouses on fire and another account for threatening a co. worker with lighting them on fire. General Berkman was able to track down this information after getting permission from the psychiatric hospital Walters was admitted to in the mid 30s'. It was under 'Confidential Information' I assume due to patient privacy." (2)
"You mean to tell me I share a barracks with un pyromane?!" LeBeau cried. (3)
"Kinch, he's gotta go...now," Newkirk ordered.
"He'll kill us, Kinch!" Carter exclaimed.
"Alright, our plan goes into action tomorrow morning right after roll call. The longer Walters is here, the more of a threat he imposes to us and the operation," Kinch said.
"Oh, Colonel! Where are you when we need you?" Carter whimpered.
"I sure wish mon Colonel were here. He always knew what to say to calm us down," LeBeau said, his voice filled with fear.
"Come on, guys. We're not giving ourselves enough credit here. Sure, we miss Colonel Hogan. We want him here, he had brilliant ideas, he was always the one we went to for advice, but we can do that stuff, too. We're not powerless without him," Kinch said, trying to remain positive.
"Well, then why do I feel so powerless?" LeBeau grumbled, crossing his arms.
Kinch sighed and looked at all of them with sympathy. He shared the same pain that they did.
"Because we miss him and that we feel like we'll lose him if we try and move on without him." The radioman answered softly.
"Boy, do I really miss him," Carter croaked.
"Kinch, it ain't the same without him." Newkirk spoke.
"Oui. I agree," LeBeau sadly said.
"I know. I miss him, too, guys...more on some days than others." Kinch answered.
"I say we all go through with this plan and do the best darn job we can possible. For the Gov'nor." Newkirk spoke, with determination.
"Now that's the attitude I wanna hear, Newkirk," Kinch said, smiling.
"Oui, I'm in!" LeBeau added.
"Count me in, boy!" Carter spoke, with energy.
"Newkirk, I want you to take every cigarette, match, and lighter you have and keep it under lock and key in a hidden area. We don't need to risk a chance at Walters getting a hold of them and setting this place into flames," Kinch said, turning to the Englishman with a serious look.
"Got it, mate."
"Walters, you're gonna crash and burn, and it won't be from a match and flame."
They all smiled with a sparkle of mischief in their eyes.
(1) A very smelly French cheese sprinkled on top of flamed tarts. I'm not sure if it's an actual meal in French, but looked it up online and seemed to fit.
(2) Refer back to chapter three, I believe, and see Walters's threat to Kinch, LeBeau, and Newkirk before the lieutenant barged in on the conversation between Hogan and Carter.
(3) Un pyromane - a pyromaniac.