Chapter Text
Klink worked diligently on the requisition forms for all the supplies that Stalag 13 would need for the month. The first thing to consider was the firewood. The winter was proving to be especially cold, so the prisoners would need more wood. They were complaining about the lack of wood, as they usually did in winter. Usually, Klink would order hardwood, oak if he could get it. Maybe he should get pine instead? He could afford much more wood if he bought pine instead of oak. Of course, it would burn a bit faster than oak. Surely the larger quantity would make up for it? Klink tapped his pencil on his nose, undecided. Finally, he decided on pine and wrote that down on the form. He only got half as much extra as he could technically afford, saving the rest for extra blankets. Both together would surely be enough. If not, well, the blankets would last. He could get more wood next month.
Klink got up, walked over to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a small glass of Schnapps. Requisition Day, as he thought of it, always gave him a headache. He carried the glass back to his desk, only taking a sip before regretfully setting it down in favor of his pencil once again.
Next to consider was food. The government had severely cut back the already meagre rations they sent for prisoners, and any extra had to come out of the camp's budget. The cheapest possible replacement was, of course, hardtack. Much of it was surplus from the Great War. However, grey rye was more standard these days, so it was possible that the hardtack would be noticed. The last thing he needed was Hogan noticing anything different about the food. He complained and cajoled enough as it was. Of course, only providing bread alone was unacceptable. The prisoners also expected meat and vegetables.
Klink dropped the pencil and rubbed his eyes. This was ridiculous. How was he supposed to run a camp with no supplies? He took a swig of Schnapps and picked the pencil up again. He could just grit his teeth and get the hardtack. He could buy some extra sauerkraut then, maybe even some potatoes. But meat was a serious problem. With so many roads and bridges destroyed, supplies were harder to ship, even the Red-Cross packages were getting harder to come by. On top of that, most of the meat that was available was going to the army, not to prisoners-of-war. Maybe he should see if one of the local farmers would sell him some minced horse meat. Of course, if Hogan found out, he'd never hear the end of it. However, it was definitely the cheapest option, he wouldn't even have to have it sent a long way. And really, it was much more important for the prisoners to eat something. Whether they enjoyed it was much less important.
Finally decided, Klink wrote down requests for the surplus hardtack and extra vegetables. The meat he would buy himself. Maybe he could even find some gritwurst instead of horse meat. Adding it all up, he noticed he still had a little money left over. Adding a few extra blankets, he finally set his pencil down and leaned back. Hilda could send it off later. With his own rations added into the prisoners' stock, nobody would notice the decrease in foodstuff. Downing the rest of his Schnapps, he ignored the little niggling voice that told him he couldn't keep this up forever; the prisoners were not the only ones who needed to eat, after all.