Chapter 1--Stir Crazy

"You're a dirty rotten cheater, Peter!"

"Yeah, that was pretty low of you."

"We thought you were really hurt, man."

"Not to mention you cheated."

"'Ardly. Parker didn't touch me so I didn't cheat. I tricked you. There's a difference you know."

"It was still low."

Hogan walked from his quarters as the sound of his men coming back into the barracks drifted into his quarters. They had been outside for their regulated recreation time. It was Sunday, their work day off--as far as the Germans knew. Work on the mess hall had been steady and progress was being made. Klink rewarded them with easy Sundays. Shorter roll calls, slightly better food, and longer recreation hours. So far, nothing had disturbed it.

"Okay, okay," said Hogan. "What's all the ruckus about?" He had only just come inside to grab his baseball glove. But it looked like everyone was turning in from the game outside. He was rather disappointed. It had been a good game between a team of Europeans versus an American team.

"Newkirk cheated," pouted Carter.

"I did not cheat," stated Newkirk firmly. "Like I said: I tricked you."

"Well, it was a dirty trick," said Olsen.

"What happened," asked Hogan, once again.

"Newkirk was running to home plate," explained Kinch. "When he supposedly tripped and fell. He acted like his back was hurting. So when he got up slowly and started walking towards the infirmary, no one bothered him. He just said he was going to see Wilson. When he got close to home, he ran over and touched it."

Hogan rolled his eyes and looked at Newkirk. "Who won?"

"Europeans," said Newkirk with a sheepish smile. "By one," he added softly.

The barracks erupted again. Hogan held up his hands for order. "All right, all right, settle down. Now, Newkirk, though it may have been a nice little trick, if you ever pull a stunt like that again with your back, I'll—"

He was interrupted by the barracks door bursting open. Wilson stepped in, looking thoroughly annoyed. He spotted Newkirk sitting on the opposite side of the table, and glared at the Englishman pointedly.

"—get Wilson to come get you," finished Hogan with a sly grin. The worried look on Newkirk's face was priceless.

Wilson covered the ground from the door to the table with two large steps. He put his hands on the table, and leaned over at Newkirk. Newkirk leaned back some.

"Can I do somethin' for you, Mum," he asked.

"If you ever, ever, pull a stunt like that again with your back—" Newkirk looked at Hogan and back to Wilson. "—I will make you work for me for the rest of the war."

"It was just a trick," said Newkirk, exasperated.

"A bad one," argued Wilson quickly. "We thought you were really hurt. And do you know how serious it would be if you re-injured your back?"

"Yea," said Newkirk. "I might die of boredom again in that 'ospital bed."

"Newkirk," said Wilson in a warning tone.

"Okay, okay," muttered Newkirk, annoyed. "I'm gettin' the picture—from everyone. 'Ow'd you find out anyway?"

"Blackwell and Arcenau came running into the infirmary for me, rambling on in two different languages that I couldn't understand," said Wilson. "When I finally calmed them down, they told me in real English that you'd hurt your back at the game. But when I got there all I found were pig-headed, boasting Europeans and sulking Americans saying your name like a curse."

"Sounds familiar," said Hogan.

"Hmph," said Newkirk. He got up. "Well, if that's 'ow you chaps feel, I'll just go on down to the tunnels and work on some uniforms." He went over and opened up the tunnel entrance. "By the way, if you Yanks can pull stuff like the Boston Tea Party, why ain't I allowed to pull a stunt like that when it works?"

Before anyone could make a reply, he jumped down into the tunnel, not bothering with the ladder. Wilson's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Oh brother," he said. He looked at Hogan. "You need to do something about your men."

"Men," asked Hogan. "I thought this was just Newkirk."

"Nope," said Wilson. "Because in case you haven't noticed, most of the European prisoners have gone crazy lately." He shook his head. "I'd better get back to the infirmary. With me gone, no telling what Blackwell will take next. He already took a medical bag for this play they're doing." He left quickly.

"I'm gonna go keep an ear on the radio," said Kinch. He went down into the tunnel.

Hogan looked at LeBeau, who had been working at the stove silently throughout most of the afternoon. "How about it LeBeau? Some kinda holiday comin' along that we don't know about?"

"Non," answered LeBeau with a small smile. "It 'as just been a long war. Winter is finally gone, and we are restless."

"You don't seem so restless," remarked Carter.

"I 'ave learned to suppress that emotion," said LeBeau. "As long as I 'ave my cooking."

"What do you mean a long war," asked Olsen.

"You 'ave been locked away 'ow long now," asked LeBeau.

"Most of us have been prisoners for almost two years now," answered Scotty.

"Can you imagine, then, what you would feel after nearly four years of being a prisoner," asked LeBeau. "It comes and goes. You should know that. Just be patient."

"Well yeah, we know that," said Baker. "But when we go stir crazy, we don't go crazy all at the same time. You guys seem to have it coordinated or something so that it's madness for everyone."

"It is not madness," replied LeBeau. "And it is not coordinated either. It is all a coincidence. Besides, do you 'onestly think we would go through the trouble of coordinating our actions against you guys?"

"Yes," answered the barracks.

LeBeau paused in his stirring for a moment, and then continued with a shrug. "Well, that is your own superstition then, is it not? It is not my problem either. And why are you being so accusing towards me? I am not bothering anyone, am I?"

"No," said Forrest. "But you are one of them."

"Them," said LeBeau. "You act like we are very different. We are not. We are prisoners. And should this war last another two years, you will one day understand more of what we feel."

"Okay," said Hogan. "Don't get too hot. We were just wondering. And besides, two years is good enough of me. I've got a good enough idea about being a prisoner." He patted LeBeau on the shoulder and looked at the other guys. "And lay off of 'em fellas. They do have a point: they've been a prisoner a whole two years longer. They've got the right to go crazy every now and then. Just watch out for you stuff, okay?"

Hogan turned back to his quarters to put up his baseball glove. He thought about the past few weeks. There had been a consistent build up of energy felt since everything had died down after the hectic month before. With Newkirk's release from the infirmary two weeks earlier, it was as if the tight energy had been snapped and exploded into action. Not a day had gone by that was not punctuated with a friendly prank, or someone exclaiming that yet another one of their belongings had gone missing. At first, everyone had thought it was Newkirk spending all the energy he had undoubtedly been impatiently consuming during his time at the infirmary. But when Hogan was confronted by prisoners in other barracks complaining that there were other shenanigans going on, no one could dispute that there was more than one culprit among them.

Finally, the Europeans had come forth confessing—but not returning—that they had the missing items, and were in fact planning a play and needed props. Hogan got the okay from Klink to have this play when the mess hall was completed. The prisoners were a bit more comfortable about the missing items, as long as they were seen in the play and returned afterwards.

The playful energy that was running through the Europeans was sort of contagious and relaxing. Save two routine missions with meeting with escaped prisoners and getting them to London, there had been no other missions. There was a lull, but this one was not boring like other times. They were working during the day on the mess hall, and at night the liveliness of the stir crazy kept everyone busy. Even some of the guards had noticed it, especially when entering barracks. They were wary and often had the prisoners come out instead of them going on now. Hogan personally enjoyed it. Everyone seemed to have moved on from the frantic and scary month before. Everything had nearly ended then, but now, no one could have guessed.

Well, almost everyone had moved on.

Hogan was interrupted from his thoughts when Baker came in saying that Kinch had a priority call from London waiting. Hogan sighed.

London was the one who had not moved on.