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He couldn’t concentrate. Not on gin, not on solitaire, not on Carter’s inane attempts at conversation. All he could think about was the pounding rain and the gloomy night and the fact that his best mate was out there somewhere. Without him.
He was pacing back and forth in the barracks, blowing out smoke and annoying everyone.
“Calm down, Newkirk” Hogan said as kindly as he could manage. “He’s stealthy. He’s done this a million times.” He was starting to feel annoyed by Newkirk’s fidgety refusal to relax.
“Not on a m-miserable night like this, Sir. He’ll be llleaving tracks in the mud and his boots are small and they’ll ffffigure out it’s him and take him in for questioning, and that’s IF he gets back here in the first pl-pl-place.” It was a torrent from a man of few words.
“Worrying is my job, Newkirk. We’ll get the Underground to cover his tracks before the first patrol is out,” Hogan said. “Now sit down. Show me a card trick.”
Newkirk heaved out a sigh but did as he was told. He pulled out his cards and warmed up. He took the entire pack in one hand, and arched and riffled the cards into the opposite hand. He performed a rapid series of shuffles and flourishes, and soon he was deep in concentration, fanning the cards out on the table and flipping them in one graceful movement. He was calmer.
He stretched his fingers out to signal he was about to perform magic. “Gentlemen, may I have your attention please. Watch as I place these cards face down.” He counted them out in four neat stacks, “One, two, three, and ace," and did it again three times. Then he added dramatically, "Now prepare to be be amazed. I shall make the aces fly.”
At that moment, the bunkbed opening rattled. LeBeau emerged into the barracks, dripping and muddy. The cards flew out of Newkirk’s hands as he leapt to his feet and grabbed his blanket.
“Louis! Look at you! Are you all right? Did you get the package? Were you spotted?” He wrapped his friend in the blanket and pushed him onto the bench.
LeBeau looked back at him warmly. “I’m fine, Pierre, why do you ever doubt me?”
“Because it’s dangerous out there!” Newkirk snapped. “And it’s c-c-cold and wet and there are m-men with guns and, and, and …” He let out a breath. “Let’s get your boots off. If we stuff them with that Kraut newspaper we pinched from the Kommandant’s rubbish, they might be dry by mmmorning.”
“You work yourself into such a state, Pierre,” LeBeau said, but it was with pure affection. He wasn’t going to lie, not to himself. It was nice to let someone look after him for a change. He relaxed as Newkirk fussed over his damp clothes, found something warm for him to wear, put the kettle on for tea, and pushed him onto his bunk.
LeBeau didn’t even like tea, but he drank it just the same.