He cooked up a mush with cornmeal and sorghum molasses and heated a pail of coffee. When he finished cooking he took the breakfast to the Army mess with the help of a guard.
They carried out pails of tin plates and cups that had been soiled the night before and set them between the kitchen doors. At ten o’clock a couple of prisoners would go under guard to the pump at the corner of the vacant lot to rinse the dishes, while other men, also under guard, would carry the waste pails to a stream that ran to the river through a culvert under the canal.
Tim ate a bowl of mush and drank his coffee. He scraped the stove and tossed a couple of wooden spoons into one of the pails outside the door. He had finished his work. He stood in the doorway for a moment, then wandered into the Navy kitchen.
Bell was stirring a potful of clothes with the broken handle of a broom. “Good morning, Lieutenant,” he said.
“Too busy to talk,” said Devil.
During warmer weather the prisoners had had a weekly swim in the river and the Army men had done their laundry in wooden buckets while they were at liberty in the yard. Now it was too cold for swimming, and most of the men—finding it unpleasant to do their laundry in the open air—had given it up. Tim had been waiting for a chance to talk to Senn, to see if the Army prisoners could have an extra kitchen hand, as the Navy had, to do the wash and help carry the food. If they couldn’t have baths, at least they should have a way to wash their clothes.
Tim passed the time of day with Devil and Bell until it was time to go back upstairs.
At ten thirty the prisoners were taken out for their morning airing. Tim and Red were among the first to enter the yard. They found the Navy prisoners still there.
Everyone in the yard was watching Addison and the guards who had escorted the dishwashers to the pump and the pail carriers to the stream. Members of the detail were standing by the fence, their faces white as chalk.
One of the guards stood close to Addison. His body was racked by sobs. His hands hung forlornly at his sides and he drew in his breath in shuddering gasps. “God help me,” he wailed, “I just meant to stop him. I never meant to kill.”