would be pleased if you would join us for dinner.”
The thought of having real food made his stomach growl. He had no desire to eat with these men, but the chance to learn something more about the camp and his current situation was too valuable an intelligence asset to pass up. There was a chair at the end of the table directly opposite Schulheim, the only empty seat available, and Freeman made his way over to it. One of the other officers snickered at his limp, but Freeman ignored him.
Let them laugh, he thought. Laughter never killed anyone. As long as they’re laughing, they’re unlikely to drag me out back to be executed.
Though, with men like these, that might not be true.
“Gentlemen,” said Schulheim, “this is Major Freeman, of the American Expeditionary Force. Major Freeman, my general staff.”
No one introduced themselves, which was just fine. He didn’t care who any of these officers were, and he’d happily shoot them in the head without hesitation if given the chance. All he cared about was getting something worthwhile out of Schulheim that he could use to bust out of this place.
He carefully lowered himself into his seat, wincing as his leg flared with pain. The wet stickiness he felt inside the leg of his coverall let him know his leg was bleeding again. The “shower” he’d received had no doubt opened the wound.
“Are you injured, Major?”
Freeman looked down the length of the table to find Schulheim watching him closely. For just a moment he thought he saw the man’s nostrils flare, as if he could smell the blood from half the room away.
“A minor wound,” he said. “It’s nothing, really.”
Schulheim seemed unconvinced. “If it pains you, please let me know; I’m sure something can be arranged to take care of it for you.”
Freeman nodded, but didn’t reply.
Schulheim watched him for a moment, then said, “You know, Major, there really is no need for a man of your rank and stature to spend the rest of the war huddled in a freezing shack like Barracks C. A little cooperation would go a long way to making life much easier for you here.”
Freeman had no intention of cooperating, even in the slightest bit, but he thought it might prove interesting to see what the oberst had in mind. At the very least, it might tell him something about what he could expect from his captors.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, a carefully neutral expression on his face.
Schulheim smiled. “What did I have in mind? Well, I’m sure that isn’t too difficult for an intelligent man like you to determine. We could start with the disposition of your troops along the front near Provins and move on from there.”
Freeman nodded. “Of course. And in return?”
“In return,” Schulheim said, “I’m sure we can arrange private quarters, hot water, and even regular meals. You would be treated more like an honored guest than a common POW. Come now, you must admit that’s a tempting proposition, is it not?”
Only for scum like you, Freeman thought.
Carefully controlling his feelings, Freeman said, “You’ve given me a lot to think about. May I sleep on it?”
“Of course,” the oberst said, echoing Freeman’s own comment from moments before, his voice practically dripping with false generosity. “Perhaps it might help your decision making to understand the alternatives as well.”
He clapped his hands and turned expectantly toward the door. A moment passed and then the butler came into the room, pushing a serving cart ahead of him. On it was the largest covered platters Burke had ever seen. The aroma of meat basted in its juices filled the room, and Freeman found his mouth watering.
With the help of an assistant, the butler managed to lift the platter off the cart and to place it on the table in front of the oberst. Several of the officers leaned forward in eager expectation.
The butler lifted the lid from the serving platter, and Freeman stared in horror at what was sitting
The thought of having real food made his stomach growl. He had no desire to eat with these men, but the chance to learn something more about the camp and his current situation was too valuable an intelligence asset to pass up. There was a chair at the end of the table directly opposite Schulheim, the only empty seat available, and Freeman made his way over to it. One of the other officers snickered at his limp, but Freeman ignored him.
Let them laugh, he thought. Laughter never killed anyone. As long as they’re laughing, they’re unlikely to drag me out back to be executed.
Though, with men like these, that might not be true.
“Gentlemen,” said Schulheim, “this is Major Freeman, of the American Expeditionary Force. Major Freeman, my general staff.”
No one introduced themselves, which was just fine. He didn’t care who any of these officers were, and he’d happily shoot them in the head without hesitation if given the chance. All he cared about was getting something worthwhile out of Schulheim that he could use to bust out of this place.
He carefully lowered himself into his seat, wincing as his leg flared with pain. The wet stickiness he felt inside the leg of his coverall let him know his leg was bleeding again. The “shower” he’d received had no doubt opened the wound.
“Are you injured, Major?”
Freeman looked down the length of the table to find Schulheim watching him closely. For just a moment he thought he saw the man’s nostrils flare, as if he could smell the blood from half the room away.
“A minor wound,” he said. “It’s nothing, really.”
Schulheim seemed unconvinced. “If it pains you, please let me know; I’m sure something can be arranged to take care of it for you.”
Freeman nodded, but didn’t reply.
Schulheim watched him for a moment, then said, “You know, Major, there really is no need for a man of your rank and stature to spend the rest of the war huddled in a freezing shack like Barracks C. A little cooperation would go a long way to making life much easier for you here.”
Freeman had no intention of cooperating, even in the slightest bit, but he thought it might prove interesting to see what the oberst had in mind. At the very least, it might tell him something about what he could expect from his captors.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, a carefully neutral expression on his face.
Schulheim smiled. “What did I have in mind? Well, I’m sure that isn’t too difficult for an intelligent man like you to determine. We could start with the disposition of your troops along the front near Provins and move on from there.”
Freeman nodded. “Of course. And in return?”
“In return,” Schulheim said, “I’m sure we can arrange private quarters, hot water, and even regular meals. You would be treated more like an honored guest than a common POW. Come now, you must admit that’s a tempting proposition, is it not?”
Only for scum like you, Freeman thought.
Carefully controlling his feelings, Freeman said, “You’ve given me a lot to think about. May I sleep on it?”
“Of course,” the oberst said, echoing Freeman’s own comment from moments before, his voice practically dripping with false generosity. “Perhaps it might help your decision making to understand the alternatives as well.”
He clapped his hands and turned expectantly toward the door. A moment passed and then the butler came into the room, pushing a serving cart ahead of him. On it was the largest covered platters Burke had ever seen. The aroma of meat basted in its juices filled the room, and Freeman found his mouth watering.
With the help of an assistant, the butler managed to lift the platter off the cart and to place it on the table in front of the oberst. Several of the officers leaned forward in eager expectation.
The butler lifted the lid from the serving platter, and Freeman stared in horror at what was sitting
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