A/N Written for the SSSWC 2024. Used lines in bold. Still 2024-06-30 in Hawaii. Unbetaed. This is the second one. There may be later another one as 'inspired by'.
Life's a Journey - Fork in the Road
Being outside the camp in bright daylight and away from a work detail was a privilege. One that usually came with a condition. This time LeBeau was supposed to show Baker the evacuation sites and meeting points, while he harvested fresh food to improve their meals. Taking Baker with him had become necessary after their Kinch replacement had chosen a meeting place in the rain that hadn't any shelter, showing that he didn't really know the landscape behind the map.
LeBeau followed the order to the letter, going from wild strawberries to dandelions, taking spruce needles and checking on the blueberries. But Colonel Hogan hadn't said in which language he should do his introduction course, and so he'd chosen French.
It wasn't fair to the American sergeant and LeBeau knew it. But Kinch would've understood him - both literally and figuratively.
Baker followed him along silently. At least until they reached a wheat field. It almost seemed too much for their hungry stomachs. "Can I ask you a question?"
"No," LeBeau said. "We can't take the wheat. It would attract unnecessary attention."
They went to the edge of the field and LeBeau touched the grain, enjoying the feeling of the whet ears against his palm. Closing his eyes, he dreamed of fresh loaf, a baguette, eating it in Paris. He could almost taste the -
"Why are you so angry?"
LeBeau's eyes snapped open. He glared at his companion. "No questions." It wasn't that they couldn't talk. Only their own guards should be around, and the field belonged to the farmer they currently worked for. Between Colonel Hogan and Schultz they wouldn't be in trouble even if caught. LeBeau simply didn't want to talk.
"What's your problem with me? Is it because I'm the new guy? Or because I'm black?"
"Shh!" LeBeau put a finger to his lips.
"No!" Baker lowered his voice but wasn't quiet. "You explain everything in a language I don't understand and -"
"Quiet!" LeBeau hissed, grabbing Baker's arm and pulling him down. Maybe he should've been less sure about their company and more worried about a good working relationship with the American sergeant.
Finally, Baker got the message, and they crouched down.
LeBeau showed four fingers and then pointed to the barn across the field. These men were not in uniform and LeBeau doubted that they even possessed one.
"Underground?" Baker whispered. "They seem nervous."
"No. Black market. They're always like that – high-strung." And that was bad. It opened the possibility of violence. But more importantly, if they stole anything right now, the prisoners would be blamed. "We need Colonel Hogan. And Schultz."
Baker raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you know the fastest route."
Growling, LeBeau glared at him. He'd made his point. If LeBeau had explained everything in English he would've known the shortest way himself. "We shouldn't separate," he said instead.
"Shouldn't we keep an eye on them?" Baker asked, staring at men near the barn.
LeBeau went through his options - separating and risking getting face to face with these men. They weren't bound by the Geneva Convention and in a fight one to four the odds were pretty clear. Frowning, LeBeau tried to come up with a solution.
"How far away is the veterinarian?"
Looking around, LeBeau realized that Oscar Schnitzer was pretty near. He scowled. "So, you do know where we are."
Baker offered him a half-smile. "I can read a map and I have enough time to think about the landscape behind the barbed wire. I just needed to put these two together."
LeBeau's anger deflated.
"What do you say? We go to the veterinarian, and he calls Colonel Hogan? This way, right?" Baker pointed in the right direction, grinning. "There aren't so many buildings on my map."
Apparently, Baker really knew his maps. But LeBeau shook his head. "No, we first need to do something else."
"What?"
:~:~:~:
Locking the thieves into the barn was ridiculous easy, but still LeBeau was painfully aware of the risks. He pushed them forward, trying to get to Schnitzer as fast as possible.
"Why are we running?" Baker asked.
"We need to be fast."
Baker stopped, forcing LeBeau to either abandon him, something he would never do, or explain it in words. "If they get out or caught by the farmer without knowing they're thieves, we will get blamed."
"They're black market."
"Who will the Germans believe? A German, no matter if a criminal or not, or us?"
Baker's expression show his understanding. Without a word he pointed in the direction of Schnitzer. "We really should get going."
A German needed to catch the thieves, not a POW.
:~:~:~:
"Can I ask you now a question?" Baker said, again stopping LeBeau by stepping in his path and presenting him the dandelions he plucked along the way.
LeBeau pursed his lips. "No."
Schnitzer had understood their plight right away, calling the police, telling them he'd caught thieves on a nearby farm, locking them in the barn. Then Schnitzer had sent them away, assuming the police would come and talk to him. To avoid the German police, more dangerous than any guard from Stalag XIII, they had to take a longer route back to the work detail.
LeBeau stepped to his left, intending to continue. They were needed back before they were missed.
But Baker mirrored his step. "What's your problem with me? My skin color? That I don't speak French? That I'm American?" Baker spread his hands. "Why are you so angry?"
"I'm not angry," LeBeau denied and grabbed the dandelions, yanking them out of Baker's hand.
Baker raised an eyebrow.
LeBeau looked away, knowing that he proved the sergeant's point. Absently, he checked that he still had his scarf. He couldn't afford to lose it. In winter, it was the thin fabric between life and death. Was he angry? He had a job to do. He wasn't angry.
"Is it because Colonel Hogan ordered you to take me with you on your harvest tour? Do you prefer to go alone?" Baker didn't let it go.
"You're not him," LeBeau blurted. That was the only reason he needed to show Baker around and why they now also had to watch out for the German police.
Baker stared at him, looking lost. "Who am I not?"
"Kinch. He should be here."
"He's needed in London."
"He's needed here more," LeBeau insisted, taking a step forward, provoking a confrontation. Baker hadn't pulled rank yet. Something LeBeau should grant him, but it was a risk he was willing to take.
For a moment Baker said nothing. "I miss him, too, you know. The only thing that keeps us going is the beautiful human beings that we meet along the way. And Kinch was special. But it's not my fault, London ordered him back."
"I know that," LeBeau hissed. It was dangerous to argue while they were out in broad daylight. But Baker had started it. He should end it, which he did as he stepped out of LeBeau's path.
:~:~:~:
Despite their best intention, they came across another wheat field, signaling that they weren't out of danger yet. Without conversing they both slowed down. Carefully, they checked their surrounding before they made their away around the field, always prepared to make a run if the farmer or the police showed up.
As they'd reached the presumed safety of the treeline, they stopped to take a break.
"Why are you here?" Baker asked.
Not understanding, LeBeau stared at the sergeant. Maybe it was his revenge for LeBeau's explanation in French.
"You're French," Baker explained, apparently seeing LeBeau's confusion. "Your country isn't at war with Germany anymore."
"Vichy isn't my country," LeBeau spat. "Vichy it's like these grains. You look and think - we're blessed. So much food. It's going to be a good year. But then you go nearer and there you see it - it's all rotten. It looks good on the outside. Nice. Peaceful. But it's rotting inside. They collaborate with the Germans, they give them whoever they want. It's worse than being at war. You think it's peace but it's not. A German soldier dies, and they take revenge, killing a whole village. People say it's peace, no more war. But it's just a different kind of war."
"But you could be free."
"There's no freedom in Vichy France. None that counts. If you can't speak your mind not because somebody disagrees with you but because you'll get killed for the wrong opinion, then it's not freedom. I can take disagreements. I haven't killed Newkirk yet. I can even live with being the only Frenchman in camp..." LeBeau trailed off. Maybe he couldn't live well with it, but he could deal with the fact.
"But you weren't alone. There was Kinch. He spoke French." Baker took a wheat ear and rubbed it between his fingers, inspecting the damage to the grain.
LeBeau nodded. Peter was his friend, the guy who had seen him at his worst. But Kinch was his lifeline. "He understood that there are different kinds of freedoms. Kinch knew why I stayed here and fought."
"Does it mean I can't understand it?"
"Didn't say that."
"But you acted like that. Never explaining any of this, just speaking French." Baker readjusted his cap.
LeBeau pressed his lips together. He had said it. Again and again. Kinch was needed here. But still they all followed the order and sent him to London. They could replace his radio skills, they found a replacement for his strength and authority. But they couldn't replace the man.
"I get it," Baker said. "Telling people the same thing again and again is tiresome. But necessary. So your problem with me is that I'm not Kinch, right."
"D'accord."
"Good."
LeBeau waited but Baker didn't say anything else. He just picked up the pace again.
He really wasn't Kinch.
:~:~:~:
For once, luck was on their side, and they averted any run-ins with Germans. LeBeau could've cried in relief as he spotted Schultz and the work detail. Colonel Hogan stood next to the truck and drank from a water bottle. The other men were busy digging the field. Newkirk's blue uniform was easily recognizable even from the distance. They weren't missed yet and now there was no need to rush back to work.
"So," Baker said, leaning against a tree, "this is like your private war? Fighting until you get the freedom you want?"
LeBeau jutted out his chin. "Fighting until France is free again."
"Why here? Why don't you go to Vichy and try to fight there."
LeBeau scowled. "Here, my work will make a difference."
Baker eyed him. "I'm either underground or facing a barbed wire. I'm a stone-throw away from getting executed or shot, or both. Even only a little peace and freedom doesn't seem so bad."
"I prefer to call it like it is. My country is still occupied, from the Germans and the collaborators. It doesn't matter where I'm, I risk being shot, for going outside, for staying inside, for being at the right or wrong place. It doesn't matter."
Baker considered LeBeau's words. "Isn't this fighting for the maximum, not stopping until you get everything you want?"
"What's wrong with that?" He held up his bag full of fresh vegetables and herbs. "It's what got us the good things."
"Yeah, but where does it lead? This all or nothing. If you never pause and reflex how do you know with what you can or cannot live?"
LeBeau clenched his fists. "Some people fight with words, some with guns, I fight with food. And this is needed here." He turned around. Working in a work detail suddenly seemed the better option. He didn't care whether Baker followed or not.
:~:~:~:
LeBeau heaved his harvest up to the truck bed, stretching to compensate for his lack of height.
"Here, let me help." For Baker, it was an easy feat. Apparently, he didn't hold a grudge.
Hogan came around the corner. "Everything good?"
"Oui. We'll have better food than the Germans."
"That's great." Hogan glanced at Baker. "No run-ins with the German police? Schultz worried about where we parked as the farmer we're helping out hurried away, muttering about the police and thieves."
"It wasn't us." Baker explained what happened and how they made sure the prisoners wouldn't be blamed. "We came back as soon as possible but decided to take the scenic route just in case. Nice area, kind of reminds me of home. Beautiful nature. If it weren't for the people."
Hogan shrugged. "I'm not here for the nature."
LeBeau had never thought about it this way. But the nature in Germany was nice, not as beautiful as France, nothing could compare to his home, but it also wasn't a desert, uninhabitable.
"Are you barmy, you like it here?" Newkirk joined them, resting his hands on a shovel. His finger were dirty and his face red from the exertion.
"I thought in all of Europe it rained as much as in London."
LeBeau grinned at Newkirk's reaction.
"But I also learned that it's a long way from here to Paris," Baker continued as if he hadn't heard Newkirk's splutter. "Almost as long as from Vichy to Paris." He looked at LeBeau.
Hogan and Newkirk shared a confused glance while LeBeau gave Baker a nod.
Baker wasn't Kinch, but that wasn't a bad thing. He was different. Maybe just the kind of different they needed.
The End
A/N Thank you for reading.