After lots of thinking and debating, I am reposting this as the last chapter and calling this story complete. Previous chapters 18, 19, and 20 (and the nice reviews, unfortunately) have been deleted, and this chapter has been slightly extended with a new ending. The other chapters just didn't fit, but they might show up elsewhere. The good thing is I think this story has now come full circle, from the start when Hogan wondering what to make of Newkirk to the conclusion where he has realized Newkirk is an asset to the team and someone worth investing in. Thanks to everyone in the writing group who helped me figure this out. I'm just really glad to finally be able to say this is complete.

Two hours later, Hogan was staring at the chessboard, wondering what had just happened.

After a candid conversation in which Hogan coached Newkirk on ways to get along with Olsen, the two men settled into a quiet rhythm as the chess game absorbed their attention. It was 9:45 when Corporal Langenscheidt knocked at the barracks door, warning of lights out in 15 minutes.

Hogan and Newkirk had exchanged a few pawns, defended their positions, avoided pin-downs, developed their minor pieces, attacked and retreated. For a time, Hogan was sure he had the upper hand over his pupil; he'd been up one or two pawns for much of the game, and had captured a bishop early. But after 12 moves, it was obvious that Newkirk had a strong game underway. After Hogan's twentieth move, Newkirk accelerated his attack. He took down a pawn, removing his first obstacle on the path to the white king, and prepared to double his rooks in one file.

Feeling pressure, Hogan moved his own rook to the open line, getting ready to protect his bishop against certain attack by the black rooks. Newkirk marched his second rook behind his first one. Hogan defended his second-rank bishop by moving it up to the third rank, between his other bishop and a knight, seeing that a retreat would have put Newkirk's knight in position to make a series of captures.

Newkirk's rook swooped in to take down a bishop; Hogan recaptured. They were each down a rook now. Hogan's king captured Newkirk's remaining rook; his own last rook was stranded in a corner, unable to maneuver.

Newkirk slid his queen out from the seventh rank to the fourth, capturing a pawn and positioned for a sacrifice. Hogan tried not to let his jaw hang open, but he had rarely been defeated so creatively. His king could take out the black queen, but one move by the black bishop would put him in checkmate. And if he retreated, there were too many ways the black queen and her two knights could conquer him.

Hogan looked over the board, then up at Newkirk, then back down. He laid down his king in resignation.

The English corporal looked up, startled. "Why did you do that, Sir?" he asked.

"Because I can't win. I'm resigning. You slaughtered me, Newkirk," Hogan replied with a laugh. "I thought you hadn't played before."

"I haven't, Sir. Everything I know, I l-learned from you, and from w-watching you play against Kinch," Newkirk said.

"Really? What was that maneuver with the two rooks? You didn't get that from me," Hogan said.

"Well, Sir, I imagined we were in the woods outside camp, j-just Kinch and me guarding you. I was covering for you, and Kinch had my back."

"Did you know you were going to lose both rooks, Newkirk? Because that looked pretty risky… pretty crazy… when you were doing it," Hogan said.

Newkirk picked up a rook and turned it around in his fingers, then picked up the other one. "I thought I might, Sir, but I knew it would be worth the sacrifice. I needed a way to ffforce the opposing king out into the open, and the only way to do it was to give up a rook. Once I did that, my queen—that's you, Sir-had her p-p-pick of mmoves." He put down the chessmen as Hogan packed up his set and cast a glance at the colonel. "So it was all right, Sir? To do it that way?"

Hogan stood up and faced his corporal. "It was very creative, Newkirk. Surprising and effective. So, yes. It was more than all right."

"Right-o, then," Newkirk said solemnly. He watched as Hogan tucked the set into his footlocker. "It's a game for gentlemen, though, isn't it? Not really for the likes of me. It's a b-b-bit of a surprise that I would catch on at all. Blimey, I'd have a hard time explaining this to the lads at the pub," he added with a laugh.

"Explaining the game?" Hogan asked.

"No, I mean explaining how I learned to pl-pl-play it," Newkirk replied. "No one would believe it."

"Well, I believe it," Hogan said. "You're smart. You're focused. And when you were down, you didn't wait passively; you used stealth to get in position to attack."

Newkirk looked stunned at the compliment and flushed a little, tugging at the end of his sweater before he finally replied. "What I mmmmean, Sir, is that you taught it to me. You're an officer and you taught me this game," Newkirk replied. "N-n-no one would believe I learned it from a c-c-c-colonel."

Hogan wasn't grasping what was so extraordinary about that. They were two men in a prison camp, on the same side, close colleagues, with hours to kill and things to discuss.

"I'm not sure I follow you, Newkirk," Hogan replied. "Why wouldn't I teach you?"

"W-well, because mmmost people w-wouldn't bother w-with mmme, Sir," Newkirk said diffidently. "A c-common thief who c-can't even talk right." He shrugged his shoulders and looked at Hogan impassively as if that made all the sense in the world.

Anger welled up inside of Hogan. What was Newkirk saying? How could he value himself so little? And how could he imagine that Hogan thought the same? Newkirk was looking on quizzically as Hogan struggled to tamp down the fury he felt inside. His heart was in his mouth when he finally spoke.

"Teaching you something is not a bother, Newkirk. It's my duty as your commanding officer to be involved in your development. It's also a pleasure to see you grasp things so quickly. And even if you weren't as smart as you are, you'd be worth my time, because you are a good man," Hogan said firmly. "Now get ready for bed, and get a good night's sleep. We don't often get a night off, and I need my best men strong and rested."

Newkirk didn't budge; it was his turn to look agape. Finally, he snapped his jaw back into place, gave a brisk nod and turned to leave. But as he reached Hogan's door, he pivoted back.

"Sir?" he asked.

"Yes, Newkirk?" Hogan replied, turning in his direction.

Newkirk stood ramrod straight and snapped off a salute. "Thank you, Sir. And good night." Then he dipped his head, gulped, and looked up bashfully at Hogan. "Th-thank you fffffor caring about, um, all of us, Sir," he said softly.

Hogan smiled affectionately as Newkirk disappeared into the barracks. He knew what Newkirk was trying to say. "All of us" was true, too, and it was easier for him to grasp than "me."

Newkirk was already out of sight as Hogan returned the salute. "You're a good man, Corporal," he said. "And I'm damn lucky you're on my team."