Chapter One -

"So what do we think about this new bloke, sir?" Newkirk asked, taking a long drag from his cigarette. The group was hanging around outside of Barracks 2, watching as the newest prisoner, a Sergeant Henry Jacobson, joined in on a game of volleyball.

"He's legit." Hogan replied. "London verified it last night when the krauts first brought him in."

"I'm glad. Those German spies can be a nuisance can't they, sir?" Carter said.

"Yes they can." Hogan grinned.

"And besides, I like Sgt. Jacobson!" Carter added. "Last night, he let me finish his rations! Said he wasn't hungry."

"Yeah, being captured can have that effect on people." Hogan said, empathetically. He remembered when he had first been captured. A thing like that certainly effected a person's emotions.

"You know, London said he'd been MIA for a couple of days before they brought him into Stalag 13. You'd think he'd be at least a bit peckish, hiding in the forest all this time." Newkirk observed.

"I guess not." Carter said with a shrug. "Can I show him around, Colonel?"

"We can give him the grand tour later on. I don't want to overwhelm him with all the details on the first day. Let's give him a chance to get acquainted with people first."

Across the court yard, Hogan spotted what looked like a fight starting between a couple of his men. He excused himself to go break it up before Klink or the guards got involved.

"I'm gonna go join the game." Carter announced after a moment, and he ran off to relieve one of the other players. The new Sergeant took a seat on a nearby bench to catch his breath, and Newkirk, LeBeau and Kinch decided to go over an introduce themselves.

The man sat up straighter when he noticed the three prisoners headed his way.

"Hello there, mate." Newkirk said, sticking out his hand, which the new man shook, somewhat reluctantly. "You're the one they brought in last night, eh? How are you liking the old Stalag so far?"

"It's… a prison camp." He replied, blinking back at him. Newkirk felt a bit stupid.

"Yes." He said. "I know. But it isn't really all that bad. I mean, once you get used to it."

"Newkirk here is just trying to make you feel better, buddy." Kinch said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder to stop him. He gave him a look that said not to give anything away until Hogan said it was the right time.

"I appreciate it." The man said, less tense than he had been when the three men had approached him moments before. "I'm Henry Jacobson. Sergeant, US Air Force."

"Colonel Hogan already told us. You met him yesterday. I'm Kinch. This is LeBeau, and Newkirk. And that's Carter." Kinch pointed to the American Sergeant who was running about on the volleyball court. "We're in Barracks 2."

"I'm in Barracks 3, next door. I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other, then."

"Sure." Kinch said, smiling warmly.

"Mon aime, if there is anything you need, in terms of food, that is, please don't hesitate to ask. I'm here to make your Stalag 13 dining experience a more enjoyable one." LeBeau offered.

"Thanks. Well, hey, now that you mentioned it. I swiped this from the Kommandant's office when he was questioning me yesterday." He pulled out a flask of whiskey. "Maybe you could use it in some of your cooking?"

The others were shocked.

"You mean to say you grabbed that…WHILE the Kommandant was interrogating you?" Newkirk said, taking the alcohol. "How'd you do that?"

The prisoner smirked. "Just a talent of mine. It was just lying on his desk. So I took it. If you guys ever need anything stolen, I'm your man."

"Actually, I'm the resident con man." Newkirk interjected, trying, but failing, to not sound too defensive.

LeBeau jabbed Newkirk with his elbow, not wanting to estrange the new guy.

"Well you don't have to worry, pal, I'm not out to steal your job or anything." He grinned. "No pun intended."

Just then, the prisoners heard the call for lunch.

"I'll talk to you later?" The Sergeant said, and got up and left.

"Seems like a decent guy." Kinch observed.

"See, I told you!" Carter came up from behind them, sweaty from playing volleyball.

"I don't know. Something about him strikes me as odd." Newkirk said, watching their new "friend" head into the mess hall.

"Aw, Newkirk, come on! You don't really feel threatened by this guy, do you?" LeBeau asked, shaking his head.

"Are you kidding?" He thrust the flask into his friend's hands. "An amateur could pull off something like that!"

"He did it without Klink, Schultz, or even Colonel Hogan noticing!" Kinch said. "I'd say that took skill."

"Yeah, whatever. Let's go eat." Newkirk grumbled, pushing his cap forward, practically to his eyes. He wasn't going to admit it, but he did feel slightly threatened. However, he got a bad vibe from this guy, and he wasn't about to drop it just because the others were giving him a hard time.

At lunch, Hogan sat with the new Sergeant, in an attempt to make him feel more welcome and to get to know him a little better.

Newkirk watched from his table, while mindlessly chewing his food.

"Newkirk's jealous." LeBeau said, breaking the silence and grinning devilishly.

"Of Sgt. Jacobson?" Carter asked. "How come?"

"I am not jealous!" Newkirk said defensively. "I don't know why you keep saying that, LeBeau. I've got nothing to be worried about. He'll be outta here in a few days any way, we'll trade him for who ever the underground sends up, and that'll be the end of it."

"Okay, whatever you say." LeBeau said insincerely, looking down at his watery soup.

"I like Sgt. Jacobson. You know, yesterday, at dinner, he -"

"Gave you his rations, yeah we know. You told us that like five minutes ago." Newkirk snapped.

"Relax, Newkirk." Kinch said. "You're right. He'll be out of here soon enough, so there's no point wasting all this energy over him."

As usual, Kinch was right, and they let the topic drop.

Newkirk didn't know why he was feeling so defensive. He knew his mates weren't about to replace him, but he had felt pretty intimidated when Jacobson managed to swipe the flash from the Kommandant's desk. He silently berated himself for being so lame.

He finished his meal, trying to take comfort in the fact that Jacobson would be around for a week tops, and then would be off to London or the States. And then, he would have nothing to worry about.

A/N - Please R/R! : ) Thanks!