Half Sick of Shadows » Band of Brothers [2]

33: What Can Ail Thee

"O what can ail thee, knight at arms, / Alone and palely loitering?" - John Keats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci

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After everything has calmed down, Will makes sure we all sit down to eat. There's little in the way of food about but the boys, apparently, get the same army rations as everyone else now, so we share that. Sitting at the kitchen table and eating together feels almost like being back in Aldbourne, except so much has changed since then.

I can't help but feel like today has been one of the longest days of my life. An emotional rollercoaster, to be sure. It's so difficult to believe that it was only this morning I thought I was waking up in a KZ.

The thought makes me want to ask something, though I pause to really think about it before I do. The last thing I want to do is push everyone over the edge again after everything that happened earlier.

Eventually, I say, "Who was it in the camp? I assume it wasn't full of spies."

Martin nods gravely. "Jews."

My jaw falls open. "What?"

"Jews," he repeats, still in that sombre tone. "And gypsies. Dissidents. Mostly Jews, though."

"So that's the..." I begin, trailing off.

Will finishes the sentence off for me with a small nod. "Final solution to the Jewish question."

That thought is so, so sickening.

"Did you see Joe?" I ask after a short pause. "Liebgott, that is. I only ask because he's -" I sigh. "He's Jewish."

It's Tom who replies this time. "Yeah. He was... struggling, to say the least. Everyone was but him especially."

I shake my head, only picking at my food now. "I can't imagine..."

"Yeah," Tom replies in a whisper. We don't speak for the rest of the time that we're eating.

Tom makes sure everyone goes to bed a little while later, and he makes sure to sit with me until I fall asleep. This, also, feels a lot like old times. He's always been right by my side whenever I've needed him. God, I can't believe what I said to him earlier.

Almost as though he's reading my mind, he says softly into the darkness, "I know you didn't mean what you said earlier." I smile a little bit because he knows me so well. Then, he continues, "But did they actually..." A pause and a short, resigned sigh. "Did they actually do all that?"

I chew onto my bottom lip for a few moments and contemplate pretending to be asleep. In the end, I reply, "Yeah," and stare blankly at the ceiling. I can't really recall how much I told him of what they did, but I know for certain I told him about the carbolic. I had wanted to keep that to myself. The best laid plans, I suppose.

"Everyday?" His voice sounds so small, and so heartbroken.

I shake my head, even though he can't see me. "No. For a lot of the beginning of my confession they didn't interrupt my writing, but when the hauptsturmführer read it that was the first time I got the carbolic -" I bitterly laugh a little bit, "- because I'd filled it with so much useless information. The first few weeks were them working out what would get to me the most, so they could get the information out easier. When they worked it out they used those methods to try to make me talk. That was when I asked to write my confession. After the first burst of writing I'd probably get something maybe once a day, sometimes every other day, but sometimes it was just small things."

My voice is emotionless as I explain, and I'm vaguely surprised that I don't feel the urge to cry. I think I'm finally all cried out, which is a miracle in and of itself.