Paper Airplanes

Chapter 2

Two weeks. Ivan had heard nothing from Alfred in two weeks. On his first night at the camp, Ivan had simply gave him a bath to wash the soot and crash debris from his body, cleaned up his wounds, and kicked him out into the barracks with the other prisoners. He wanted to see if the American would push his limits, try to escape the camp. Then and only then could he have a legitimate reason to punish the American and keep him around the commander himself. He was getting impatient. He wanted some action, some excitement in his boring, structured life.

That's when he started to ask his subordinates to keep an eye on the American. He had a gut feeling that the American was planning something. He just couldn't figure out what. But, every time his captains would come to report, it would be about stupid things Ivan didn't have time for. Alfred was trading rations. But, he wasn't trading like most of the normal prisoners did. He would ask for very strange things. Shoe laces, table salt, matches, and water was on the list of things traded for food by Alfred F. Jones. Another strange thing about Alfred's activities was his affinity for a certain Gilbert Beilschmidt. They spoke in English for the most part but quickly switched to German once one of Ivan's men came into earshot of their conversation.

Gilbert was a chemistry student in Germany. He was well known throughout Europe and was once thought to go on to become the professor at the college he was studying at. But, after the war started, he became a chemist for the American powers stationed in Europe. He became the prime target to help the Russians develop weapons. The only problem was that Germany as a nation sided with the Americans, which their export economy relied on. This problem was taken care of when Russia invaded Germany, taking over the country. Sure, the Americans fought back and took back their ally, but they no longer had Gilbert Beilschmidt or his brother, physics student Ludwig. In fact, that's how Alfred had befriended the elder Beilschmidt brother; he told him that his brother was safe and had been shipped to America for safety reasons.

But, other than that Alfred seemed to keep in line, except he was quite a bit thinner than the rest of the prisoners. Usually, this would be a good thing. To Ivan, the prisoners were expected to be just as compliant as his troops. But, this seemed abnormal for the American. He seemed like the type to cause trouble, to force Ivan get involved. Ivan hummed slowly shutting his eyes and opened them again to look at his dinner. His Zharkoe was already chilled from the frozen breeze that entered the tent. He sighed and pushed it away with a frown. He wasn't hungry anymore anyway.

One of his subordinates came in and stood at attention waiting for the at ease from his general. He looked young, about twenty and his uniform was crisp and clean. His hair was shimmering in the light of the tent and his green eyes seemed to glow. He must have been a recruit that had never seen battle yet, he wasn't broken like the unlucky ones who did. Ivan smiled at him and put his hand up giving the signal for the recruit to relax.

"At ease soldier," he chuckled softly twisting his hands into a grotesque form. He leaned over the desk with a smile. "I assume you are the German speaker I asked for?"

The soldier nodded giving a sigh of relief. He was told to watch out for the general because he could snap at any moment. "Yes, sir. I did what you asked and translated the prisoners conversation for you." He wouldn't say anymore until Ivan asked. He didn't want to risk upsetting his commander.

Ivan hummed and pushed the cold Zharkoe over to him. "I apologize. It might be a little cold, but it will still put meat on your bones and food in your belly. Please, sit."

Ivan walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of beer they obtain from their victory in Germany. It was nothing like Russian vodka, but it put the troops in good spirits. He popped the top and slid it over to the soldier. The soldier rose an eyebrow and examined the beer. He swished it in his hands trying to find a way to actually balance it in his hand. It had been weeks since he had tasted the bitter sweet taste of alcohol. He licked his chapped lips, mouth watering at the thought of the hops concoction engulfing his taste buds in bitter bliss. He was snapped away from his thoughts when Ivan popped the top off of his and took a nice, long drink of the beer. He chuckled and glanced over to the soldier with half lidded eyes. "I was told by the best brewmaster in Germany that this beer had been made with the sweetest wheat and hops. Isn't it strange how bitter it actually is? However, I don't necessarily like sweet things, Private Krupin." He took another drink and sat down.