"Who's next?" Colonel Hogan asked his second-in-command, Sergeant James Kinchloe. It was his fourth day in Luftstalag 13 and he was systematically meeting each of the talented men he hoped might have a place on his team.

"Let's see. That was Murphy, Nash, Nealon, Neumann." He consulted his clipboard. "Oh. Next up is Corporal Newkirk, Sir."

Hogan heard the tone in Kinch's voice. "Newkirk. What barracks is he in?"

"Oh, he's right here in Barracks 2, Sir," Kinch said. "The guy with the cards. The one who's always in the middle of a crowd. He's a good friend of mine, Sir,' he added.

"Well, that's a recommendation, Kinch," Hogan said with a generous smile. "But you seem a little hesitant about him. Which one is he, again?"

"RAF Corporal. A Londoner. Cockney from the East End. Medium height, kind of skinny. He has some, um, unusual talents, Sir. I think you'll find him valuable." Kinch shifted uncomfortably and looked down.

Hogan studied his aide. "What is it you're not telling me?"

Kinch met Hogan's gaze. "He really is a good guy, Sir. You're just going to need to be patient with him. He's kind of quiet at first, and it takes time for him to open up. He has a pretty bad…"

"All right, all right," Hogan said, cutting Kinch off. "Just bring him in." He wasn't encouraged. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with quirky personalities or sensitive types. He needed solid men who could take commands and who actually wanted to be part of his team without a lot of persuasion.

Hogan was a little surprised when the young Corporal waltzed into the room, cocky as could be, looking like he owned the place. He nodded in greeting to Kinch, then looked coolly at the American Colonel and snapped off a crisp salute. Confident, Hogan thought, and he has good RAF training. He's respectful of protocol.

"Corporal Newkirk? I'm Colonel Hogan. Pleased to meet you. Have a seat." He stuck out a hand, which Newkirk shook, and waved him to a stool across the table from him.

Against his better judgment, Peter Newkirk was both charmed and disarmed by the American. It helped that Kinch, who had fallen in with Newkirk when he arrived in camp six weeks earlier, spoke highly of Hogan. Newkirk was surprised because no officer had ever shaken his hand in greeting before. In fact, it had only happened once, at a ceremony when he got his stripes, and that felt like a formality. This was actually warm, and it felt like Hogan wasn't automatically looking down on him.

"Tell me about yourself, Corporal," Hogan said.

"Mmmme?" Newkirk replied, eyes wide. He could handle questions, but that was awfully open-ended.

Hogan looked around. "I don't see any other Corporals around here, Newkirk, do you?"

"Nnnnnnno, Sir," Newkirk answered. "Ahm. Well. Ahm, w-w-what do you w-w-want to know?"

"Don't be nervous, Corporal," Hogan said.

"I'm nnnnnot, Sir," Peter said.

"Really?" Hogan scoffed. "Because you sound very nervous."

Kinch broke in. "Colonel, I think you should know…"

Hogan put a hand up. "Let the Corporal speak for himself, Kinch," he said softly. "Am I making you nervous, Newkirk?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Well, nnnnnow you are," Peter allowed. "But it wasn't that, not at first. It's j-j-j-j-j," he said. He scrunched up his eyes. "J-j-j-j-j."

Hogan looked surprised. "Are you OK, Corporal? Something wrong?" He wasn't mistaken. Newkirk's face was tight and he seemed to be fighting for breath.

Kinch leaned in. "Remember what I said about being patient, Sir? You need to give him time to answer," he said. Hogan gave him a withering look then turned his attention back to Newkirk.

The young airman was still stuck on that sound and was starting to look worn out, but somehow he persisted, blinking his eyes as he struggled with the words. "It's j-j-j-j-j," he said. "J-j-j-just, just just that I st-st-stammer. SSSSir," he said, punctuating the sentence with a squint and a sudden look of triumph.

Hogan looked suprised again. "Ah. Sorry to put you on the spot, Corporal. I didn't know." He shot a look at Kinch that said "Why the heck didn't you tell me?" Kinch's look in response said, "I tried."

"Well, Corporal, we can make this conversation a little easier if you want to just nod yes or no," Hogan said.

Newkirk looked a little disappointed, but he agreed. "I don't mind t-t-talking but all right, Sir."

"You're from London – the East End, is that right?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk nodded. "Stepney, Sir," he said proudly.

"How old are you? 25?" Newkirk shook his head. "Up or down?" Hogan asked. Peter pointed a thumb down.

"24?" No. "23?" Still no. "22?" Big smile and nod. Yes, he was 22.

"Single or married, Corporal?" Newkirk looked stunned, then held up one finger. "Single. Good, good," Hogan said. "Parents living?"

Newkirk's look darkened. He held up one finger again.

"Mother?" Hogan asked.

A vulnerable look on Newkirk's face made clear that was a no as he shook his head sadly.

"Ah, I'm sorry about that. Your father's living though," Hogan said. "It's good to have someone. Is he in London?"

Peter shrugged and looked away defiantly. It was clear he didn't care where his father was and while his indifference surprised the Colonel, the fewer personal attachments the better for dangerous missions. But he made a note to get to the bottom of that comment.

"OK. Maybe Kinch will chime in now and help us out. I hear you have some 'interesting' talents. Now you're not in trouble, Corporal. We may need your special skills. Can you tell me what they are?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm a t-tailor," Newkirk said. He gestured to the Colonel to stand up. He came around the table to where Hogan was seated and made a show of inspecting the state of his shirt and brushed off the lapels. "Your uniform blouse is a bit f-f-f-frayed, Sir, but I mmmmight be able to im, im, improve it. But your t-t-t-trousers…" he said, tsk-tsking. "Well, they got a b-b-bit torn, didn't they? And they're too lllllloose."

"The rations aren't much to write home about, Newkirk," Hogan said with a smile.

"J-j-j-just so, Sir. Well, I can patch them so you'll b-barely nnnnnotice and snug them up for a proper ffffit," he said, tugging at the waistband.

"Great, great, we've got a tailor. I'll see you about these trousers later. And I'll be in touch when we have a need for a man of your skills, Newkirk," he said. "You're dismissed." He needed to talk to Kinch about his definition of "valuable." While a tailor would come in handy, he was in search of more unusual skills at this point. Between this Cockney and the little French chef, he was starting to wonder whether he and Kinch were on the same page about filling out this team.

"That'd be g-g-grand, Sir," Newkirk said, looking relieved. "Oh, Colonel?" he asked as he stood to go.

"Yes, Newkirk?"

"Do you know the time, Sir?"

Hogan checked his watch and came up empty. "What the heck? I had it a minute ago," he said.

Newkirk stood by, innocently waiting for an answer, while Kinch smirked behind Hogan's back.

"Perhaps you left it with your wallet, Sir," Newkirk put in.

"No. My wallet's right …. Hey!" It was not in his back pocket.

Hogan was patting himself down frantically when Newkirk produced the missing items from up his sleeve. "Sssorry, Sir. J-j-j-just a little demonstration," he said apologetically. "It was easier than trying to explain me self."

Hogan crossed his arms and looked over the young Corporal with new interest. Hmm. If he could pick his pocket and steal a watch right off his wrist without tipping off a wily Colonel, he might be pretty useful around unsuspecting enemies.

Hogan beamed and shook Newkirk's hand again. "Very interesting, Newkirk. I think I might have some work for you sooner rather than later, if you're willing to take a fly on me," Hogan said.

Newkirk smiled and gave Hogan's hand a firm shake. He pulled away and snapped off another salute. When he spun around and walked out of the room, Hogan looked down at what was his hand.

"My dog tags," he said with wonder. "But this isn't mine." He held up a brown leather object.

Kinch peered over at Hogan's hand and shook his head. "That's my wallet, Sir," he said with a sigh. "Peter!"

Newkirk popped his head back into the room and grinned. "Sorry, Kinch," he said. "I've always b-been a b-bit of a show-off." He ducked away just before Kinch's eraser could bean him.

XXX

Newkirk's stutter is not canon on the US TV series-but it is on the German-dubbed version from the late 1990s. His stutter is actually quite severe on that show, and I thought it would be interesting to explore how that would impact him as a member of Hogan's core team.