“That was nice of you,” Stan said.
“I am goot to prisoners,” Hans said.
Stan swung his feet to the floor. He got out of bed and walked across the room. Flipping a picture of Hitler aside, he exposed the microphone in the wall. Hans rolled his eyes and clicked his heels.
“Heil Hitler!” he almost shouted. “Tomorrow you will get out of bed and be down in the yard by seven.”
Stan grinned. He reached up and disconnected the wire leading to the instrument.
“They listen all the time,” Hans said. “They watch everyone. There is more Gestapo than guards.”
“Nice country to live in,” Stan remarked.
O’Malley laughed and pulled the blankets up around his chin.
“Sure, an’ it needs a bit o’ cleaning up,” he said.
Hans looked at him nervously. “You think the British and Americans come soon?” he asked.