Free Casca 11: The Legionnaire by Barry Sadler Page A

made a wry face at the odor emanating from the prisoner and saw the cuffs still holding Langer's hands behind his back. He barked a short order and the cuffs were removed. He indicated for Langer to take a seat on a straight backed cane chair.
    "Caporal Langer." His French was perfect as he paused in his introductions to light up a thick bodied Chinese cigarette. "I apologize for your being kept under such primitive conditions and for those cuffs being left on you for so long. I assure you it was merely an oversight and we will do our best to make your stay with us as interesting as possible, if not more comfortable. Much of that will be determined by how our relationship develops and the degree of your willingness to cooperate." He offered Langer one of the acrid smelling cigarettes, which was accepted and lit for him by one of the guards in attendance.
    Langer said nothing, just sucked the thick yellow smoke deep into his lungs, choking a bit in his effort to inhale the strong mixture. Thich smiled, nodding his head in agreement. "I know these are vile, but they are all we have right now, though I am expecting some of those very fine American cigarettes to be delivered to me soon. Then perhaps we will share one of them together under more amiable circumstances. Correct me if I am mistaken, but were you not in the party that attempted to ambush me earlier this month?"
    Langer avoided the masochistic temptation to take another deep draw from the cigarette and nodded that it was so. He had been in the ambush party.
    Thich bobbed his head, pleased that they had gotten off to such an auspicious start and his guest was not attempting useless lies so early in their conversation. "Good, good, Caporal Langer. I am really pleased that you seem to be an intelligent man. I believe that with a little understanding we may become great friends. Now tell me of yourself. I wish for you to tell me the story of your life from beginning to end and then, when you are taken from this place, you will be given more suitable quarters and paper and pen with which to write down your story."
    Langer knew this tactic of getting people to speak about themselves. While it might seem harmless on the surface, it was a very effective tool in discovering where the weak chinks were in a man's personal armor. The story told verbally and the one written would be torn apart with the teller having to constantly explain each minor difference. Then each difference to the story would have to be rewritten from beginning to end, once, twice or a dozen times, each change bringing more questions to be answered. Besides, he knew that there was no way he could tell his life story without being thought mad.
    Butting out his Chinese cigarette in an ashtray made from a 105 casing, he decided on his response to Thich's attempts to open him up. "I don't think that my story would help you very much, Comrade Thich. I am not a French national and my past is where it belongs, in the ashes of the Third Reich. So there is no past for me now other than my times in the Legion, and if you wish to know about that, l am sure that you have people who could gain access to the personal files of a lowly caporal with little difficulty. In addition, the technique of personal biographies you wish to use is very familiar to those who fought on the Eastern front. "
    Thich grunted; he didn't like people being ahead of him, especially prisoners. He tried another approach. Taking on a more sinister aspect, his eyes narrowed to thin slits, his words heavy with warning. "There are other, less pleasant ways for me to question you, my friend. I would not enjoy using them, as the sight of blood and the sound of pain are not at all pleasing."
    Langer laughed quietly, derisively as he slowly stood, ignoring the snouts of the guards' weapons as they locked in on his stocky form. Cautiously, he began to unbutton his tunic, saying to Thich: "I want to show you something, Comrade." He pulled open his tunic to