The Dogpatch - Chapter 1
This is a fill to my own prompt on the A-Team kink meme. I prompted Face in a POW camp run by Hannibal, Murdock and BA. I made it during Vietnam - so it's a total AU. I hope no one minds.
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The Dogpatch
Fandom - The A-Team
Disclaimer - I do not own the A-Team characters. I do not make any money off this piece of fiction; this is strictly for my amusement.
Pairing - H-BAMF
Rating - R/NC17
Summary - AU - First Lieutenant Templeton Peck finds himself in a pickle. He’s the only officer in the POW camp, nicknamed by the American’s Dogpatch - which is run by the most famous Traitor Hannibal Smith and his crew. It’s not easy to plan an escape and to keep this certain Colonel off your back, literally and figuratively.
Historical Notes- Dogpatch is a real POW camp that is based near the China-Vietnamese boarder. It’s a good place because at the time the people who ran the camp built it there because they knew that American policy wasn’t going to conduct any operations in that area. So, it fits my AU story line quite perfectly.
Chapter 1 - The March
Hot.
Muggy.
Dry,
Arid.
Templeton Peck hated Vietnam and its damned jungles. The pull of rope between each man’s ankles and wrists seemed to pull the knots tighter on their limbs. The Viet Cong’s around them glared and kept them on the move. They held their rifles in a ready position, so as to shoot any man who tried to do anything against the rules. He’d all ready lost Jeff Worthy. His family would never know what happened to their son, the VC would not send his dog tags home.
The March was the one thing in the world that gave them hope while at the same time crushing it. They were made to walk for hours on end. Noisy or not, they were far away from any American military bases and Cambodia had their political heads stuck far up their own rear ends to do anything about anything. China was the same as ever, and if there was one thing Templeton knew - he knew that the closer to the boarder of China they got, they safer from rescue they were.
Dogpatch was not a POW camp to be taken lightly either. The rumors didn’t help at all. If the stories were true, someone had to escape to tell it and as the rumors went…no one ever escaped the Dogpatch. It’d been built by the VC as a safe haven for their troops and a way to keep prisoners for long periods of time. It was a march of seven weeks mostly, if his timing was correct.
In two days they’d arrive at the camp. It was too late to enact an escape, they’d all be slaughtered. It was far better to arrive at Dogpatch and hope to hell that Colonel Hannibal Smith was not in attendance. From what Templeton had heard from his superior officers, he had to make a wide birth of Hannibal in order to get the information they needed.
Only, he didn’t think Hannibal had it. Templeton had the funny idea that he had the information the VC needed and that they’d use Hannibal to get said information. He tried to see what he knew. As the main Requisitions Officer, he knew dirt on all sorts of people. Only, did he know what the VC needed to win this war?
The sun was at its zenith when the VC finally let them sit down for a break. A small water jug was passed around, there wasn’t nearly enough for all the men and it was his job to see them through this. It wasn’t going to be easy. Especially if his bad Vietnamese was right. Only two men would be kept at the Dogpatch and the rest were to be shipped out else where. Their graves were the most likely prospect.
He prayed that wouldn’t happen; that one way or another they’d stay alive to fight another day.
TWO DAYS LATER - Arrival, Dogpatch
The camp was, amazingly clean. Templeton hadn’t thought that it’d be as well kept. It was also quite big for the three men who ran the place. A single sweep told him all he needed to know at the moment. A mess hut and two other huts served the camp overseers. The cages were for the POW’s. There were gardening tools and other things for outdoor use, which meant that the camp probably needed man power.
There was a single well in the middle of the camp, it was a nicely picked out area with shade from two palm trees. Templeton could see the water glinting off the stony surface. He refused to think about how cool it was and how great it’d be to drink it. Damn those Psychological games that were taught in military school. Hannibal had to be American to put the water supply in the middle of the camp to torture them with. Brilliant, as well, Templeton had to give him that much.
He and the other twenty men with him stood in line in the hot, jungle sun. From the second hut two men emerged. One was tall and muscular, he was also Black. He wore gold and he looked as if he’d always lived in the Jungle. The second man was tall and slim; he had long brown hair he hid under a bright red base ball cap. He wore a leather bomber jacket and he looked happy to see them. From the main hut a third man emerged. He was tall and grumpy looking but he smoked a cigar and that seemed to make him feel better.
“That has to be Hannibal,” Hendrickson, to his left, said. He looked just as bad as the rest of them, dirty and hungry. Templeton was sure his good looks would be over looked. And right now, he couldn’t think of a better time. His clothing was torn, he had scrapes and bruises. He wanted a nice, long, hot shower and good grub. Not that it’d happen here. Most especially since Hannibal was looking at him. Or was it Hendrickson? He couldn’t tell.
A VC walked up to Hannibal and they had a short conversation in Vietnamese. Templeton stood too far away to catch a word. Though his translation did suck, he’d at least have a good idea of what was going on here. Hannibal shook his head as the Vietnamese pointed out a few other men, the scrawny ones. Templeton took a look himself, they wouldn’t survive. They looked as if they would keel over any second now.
Hannibal wanted the strongest. Apparently the two men came to a decision. It was a surprise when he and Hendrickson were pulled from the group. The other men looked at them in pity but didn’t move or say anything. They weren’t stupid and probably had the same idea Templeton had. Now, Hannibal had two Officers’. Their men wouldn’t survive. It was a horrible way to end the day…watching as your company marched off into the Jungle to die.
0-0-0
Hannibal wasn’t happy with the stock the VC Commander brought him. He didn’t care how long those men had to march, only two looked well enough for work. One tall and bow legged, while the other slightly shorter with bright blue eyes and blond hair. Not that one could make it out under all that dirt and blood. But, Hannibal knew a smart man when he saw one.
Once the VC had taken the other POW’s away and down the trail, and once their gates been closed and locked. Hannibal lit his cigar, again, as he made his way towards the POW’s. His men, BA and Murdock came along. They were just as interested in the new blood.
“Hello there gents,” Hannibal smiled around his cigar.
The older one glared, “what’s the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“And what’s your name, Private?” Hannibal asked. He watched the younger man out of the corner of his eye, who stood at attention and looked practically mortified at the Private’s attitude.
“I’ll have you know that I am Captain Harry Hendricks,” he growled.
“Ah, I see an Officer,” Hannibal chuckled as if it was Christmas and then he turned to the younger, “and you are?”
“First Lieutenant Templeton Peck, sir,” he was far too nervous not to end on that bit of respect. He knew they’d be bound for the box if someone didn’t show proper respect. It was one of those times where you picked your battles.
“Ah, at least someone taught you manners,” Hannibal smirked.
“Thank you, sir,” Templeton muttered. He watched Hannibal and Hendricks exchange glances. Neither of them paying any attention to him. Not that he cared. Hannibal turned away and gave his men a wink.
“Take them to their cages, boys,” and then he turned and walked away. Murdock took Templeton by the elbow. His grip was hard and he didn’t fight it. Hendricks fought BA though.
“Settle down Fool or I’ll put you in the box!” BA growled.
Templeton meekly went along with Murdock who smiled broadly; “He won’t last here. Hannibal doesn’t like him,”
“What do you mean by that…?” Templeton asked. Not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer.
“Why, he likes the pretty ones,” Murdock winked and Templeton felt himself heat up, by embarrassment or the afternoon sun - either was a very good guess.
Murdock brought Templeton over to the water well and tied a bit of rope to the Lieutenants bindings. Then he ran over to the cages and dragged one out. It was small, possibly big enough for a full grown golden retriever. Murdock brought it over to the table, and then he opened one end. He then leapt back to Templeton and untied him from the well. He allowed himself to be gently manhandled into the cage.
“Now, you be good,” Murdock grinned, “and maybe we’ll forego the maggots in the rice at dinner tonight,”
It was meant as a joke, Templeton knew this, but “anything after starving for days,”
Murdock hadn’t anything to say to that. Nothing at all.
0-0-0
The shade helped battle the late afternoon heat. Templeton curled up on himself and tried to sleep. The cage wouldn’t allow him any other position. Hendricks wasn’t taking it too good though. BA had gotten far too annoyed with the Captain and had him in the box. As far as the sweat boxes went though, it wasn’t the worst. He wouldn’t sweat to death in it - it was only meant for more psychological angst.
As if being in the middle of the camp was any better. He was the most watched. At least Hendrickson had some privacy to try for an escape. He hadn’t even that. Hannibal was most watchful and it made Templeton’s skin crawl.
It was nearing dinner when the Colonel came out of the main hut with his men dispersing to do what they will. He lit up a cigar, and Templeton had to wonder what his supply looked like, and strolled across the red dirt ground to the table and chairs set up by the well. He carried a deck of playing cards and as he sat down, he lightly shuffled it.
“I can’t stand that hollering,” he muttered.
Templeton laid facing Hannibal’s boots. He looked up at the grey haired man and didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what the rules at the camp were and if he broke one, he’d be punished. He didn’t want to be punished so early in the game.
“It’s all right, kid,” Hannibal said softly.
“I…yeah…” Templeton nodded his head, “he’s not quiet, like ever,” he sighed.
“I can see that and it’s only the box, I haven’t even brought out the whip yet,”
“Whip, sir?” Templeton asked.
Hannibal chuckled; “is there an echo in here?”
“Sorry, sir…” Templeton shifted a bit.
“Murdock picked a small cage for you…” Hannibal looked up as said person bounded over.
“Only because he’s slight enough as it is, if I put him in the bigger ones he could escape, Hannibal,” Murdock explained.
Templeton only knew bits and pieces of this A-Team who’d robbed a bank in the States and now ran a most prominent POW camp in Vietnam. They were even protected by the VC government. It was…to say the least…rather hard to know that your own countrymen sold out their brethren. Not that he was going to say that any time soon. He had to keep his personal feelings in check. That was why Murdock had a good reason to keep him in a tiny cage, and BA had put Hendricks in the box.
“But, the whip, sir?” he reminded Hannibal.
“Ah yes, the whip. Even if it is just you, Peck and Hendricks, I have to make sure you know who here is in charge,” he said that with a shit eating grin and Templeton felt like throwing up.
“Now, the first rule is that you’re to eat everything we give you. We can’t have you fainting on us in the middle of your work,” He waited a second.
“Oh…you’re going to kill him…that’s why he isn’t here…” he cut himself off fast. He spoke out of turn.
“Second, you’re to do all the work we give you, no complaining,” he gave Templeton a firm glare. He nodded to show he understood. They were right; Hannibal wasn’t someone you fucked around with arbitrarily.
“And thirdly, if you don’t do what we say, when we say it, you get whipped. We’ll start out with five and work our way up. I have found that five does the trick, usually,” he shot a glance towards the box.
Hendricks had stopped yelling. That’s not the end of that. Templeton groaned to himself, he’s going to make this worse for BOTH of us!