Notes: The characters aren't mine, and the story is! This story was written for the annual short story tournament, and pretty much wrote itself once I decided upon which starting line to use (from marilynusca's Trials of Friendship).
The door of Barracks Two opened slowly, very slowly. It was a soft, quiet, tiny movement, opening just enough to allow someone to be able to see across the compound of Stalag 13. And Peter Newkirk's sharp gaze took in the unpleasant sight of Hochstetter's men—dozens of them—standing at rapt attention all over the compound, just waiting for their bloodlusting commander to issue them orders. They'd been there for hours now—trading shifts as Hochstetter screamed his throat raw inside the Commandant's office. The beautiful spring morning that they had woken up to hours ago had been interrupted as Hochstetter arrived, ordering that Klink hand over the Stalag to him; the Americans were coming, and Hochstetter was determined to seize control of the camp before they arrived. He hadn't broadcasted any of his plans once he seized control, but anyone with sense knew that Hochstetter fully intended for the Americans to arrive and find the place empty—one way, or another.
"He's either going to move us out of here, go through the motions and put us on trial, or save the time and execute us all for sabotage right on the spot," Hogan had said, bluntly.
Their situation had quickly progressed from bad to worse; the sheer number of men that Hochstetter had sent in had made escape impossible; for each man inside the camp, there had been another just outside, patrolling the woods. Hochstetter's radio detection truck had been parked in the middle of the compound, preventing Baker from issuing so much as a plea for help to the Underground.
"We're trapped," Newkirk had realized, as the horror of their situation sunk in. "We're well and truly trapped."
Hogan had responded with a grim nod.
"Klink is our only hope," he had agreed. "If he stands firm against Hochstetter, or stalls until the Americans arrive, then our chances improve significantly. …But this is Klink we're talking about."
"Isn't there anything we can do?" Carter had asked. "I could throw on a General's uniform—"
"We'd never be able to explain how a general got in," Hogan had said. "Not with all of Hochstetter's goons monitoring everything. They wouldn't let me get halfway across the compound to try to talk to Klink. Fellas, I hate to say it, but there's nothing we can do."
"Except pray," LeBeau had added, quietly.
LeBeau's suggestion had been one that nearly everyone else in the barracks turned to; those who had believed in any sort of higher power were either praying for a miracle, or, depending on how defeatist they were, making peace.
For his part, Newkirk had found his faith wavering long ago, after his mother's death. He continued to stare through the little sliver of open door. He knew that Hogan was inside his office with LeBeau and Carter, listening to Klink and Hochstetter's argument (and Schultz's subsequent cowering) through the coffeepot bug. He wanted to be there, with his best mates, but Newkirk knew that someone had to be on the lookout for spot checks by their captors.
The Englishman then registered someone walking up behind him. After spending years on missions, often in nearly-complete darkness, Newkirk knew the distinct footfalls of his fellow teammates.
"Look at them out there, Andrew," he said. "Standing like blooming gorillas, claiming their territory…"
"Don't insult the gorillas; gorillas are better than them," Carter said, quietly. "Even the fiercest, most dangerous mountain lion only harms others to feed or protect its territory. They kill because they can."
"Well, when you're right, you're right, Old Chum," the corporal sighed. "'ow's it sounding in there?"
"Not very good," Carter admitted. "Klink's trying to bring up that Burkhalter gave him strict orders not to let Hochstetter take over the camp again. Hochstetter's pointing out that Burkhalter vanished without a trace weeks ago, so anything he says should be considered null and void."
"And not even old 'ochstter's got any idea where General Fatso is?"
"No one does; up until we lost contact with the Underground, they had no idea, either," Carter admitted. "Colonel Hogan thinks he ran away to save his own skin; since his wife and sister vanished around the same time, I'd say the colonel's right."
"Yeah, 'e's usually right," Newkirk said. "Always two steps ahead of everyone… except this time. Cor, I was beginning to think we were invincible just before this happened; we heard that the Americans were coming, and we thought we'd soon be back 'ome, where we belong. Never thought we'd be waiting for the end to come instead."
"We don't know that for sure."
"Oh, come off it; the colonel's got nothing up 'is sleeve this time, and our fates are riding on the Bald Iron Eagle of Stalag Thirteen! You know what's going on in the tunnels right now, Andrew?"
"Of course I do," Carter said. "How couldn't I? Those are my charges that Baker, Garlotti, and Thomas are setting up down there. Colonel Hogan's orders were clear enough; under no circumstances are the tunnels to be found, whether we make it out of here alive or not. It's all ending, one way or another. But don't assume we're going to end up with the bad ending."
Newkirk gave him a long look.
"You know, every time I think I know you, you astound me, Andrew. I cannot grasp 'ow you can be so ruddy optimistic about this whole thing!"
"There are always forces at work out there—"
"Are you trying to tell me that all of our successful missions—everything we've ever done—were always out of our control?!"
"No, not at all!" Carter said, hastily. "In fact, the Lakota legends say that the Creator put the ability to control our destinies inside us. Everything we've done up until now has been building up to this. I know Colonel Hogan thinks that there's nothing we can do, but we've already done it, y'see?"
"No. I don't see," Newkirk said, flatly. "All I see are armed goons out there, ready to kill us all when they get the word."
"Well, you've been looking at them enough; that's why I came out here—to take over watch duty for you."
"Ta. Though your bright outlook is going to go dark soon enough once you keep watching."
Carter responded with a shrug and took Newkirk's place in front of the door.
"Louis was asking about you," he added.
"Right; thanks," the Englishman sighed, heading for Hogan's office.
He made his entrance silently. Hogan and LeBeau were standing around the small table, listening to the argument going on in Klink's office.
Newkirk's eyes met the Colonel's first, briefly; the mix of helplessness and utter frustration only reinforced the Englishman's pessimism.
For two and a half blooming years, he's kept us safe and led us on successful missions, and now this happens. At best, he could save a handful of us, somehow… but how could he even think about choosing which ones to spare?
Newkirk's eyes now met LeBeau's. The Frenchman had been the first friend that the Englishman had made in this miserable prison; when they were both asked to lend their services to the Unsung Heroes operation, it seemed only right that they entered this together. And here they were, nearing the end, but still together.
They both looked back at the coffeepot as Klink spoke.
"Major Hochstetter, I have told you repeatedly; I am following the instructions that I was given by General Burkhalter, and he was adamant about not handing Stalag Thirteen over to anyone—"
"The General is a coward and a traitor who abandoned his duties!" Hochstetter screamed.
"While I understand your reason for assuming so," Klink said, with wince audible in his voice. "I wouldn't be so quick to jump to the same conclusion. You see, if General Burkhalter hasn't run away, then if would mean that I am disobeying orders, and that would get me sent to the Russian Front—"
"Russian Front!? Klink, the Americans will be here in less than 24 hours; I demand that you hand Stalag Thirteen over to me!"
"You're going to fight the Americans from here?" Klink asked, stunned. "They've got tanks!"
"Kliiiiiiiink!" the major fumed through gritted teeth.
"Oh, Cor, tell me when it's over," Newkirk murmured, turning away. He only relaxed slightly as LeBeau placed a hand on his shoulder; the Frenchman was trembling, as well. "Thanks, Little Mate. You know, this is, without a doubt, our lowest point? Even if we've got to wait until 'ochstetter takes over, it would've been more like us to take him down with us. Go out fighting, you know?"
"Oui; if I had just one moment alone with that pig—!"
"Hold it," Hogan ordered.
"Sorry, mon Colonel."
"No. No; you two are absolutely right," the colonel said. "If it has to end here, then we can, at least, partially end it on our terms. Newkirk?"
"Sir?"
"I want you to grab one of the guns and go through the tunnel that leads to Klink's quarters. Open the door slightly so that you've got a clean shot at Hochstetter. If Klink caves in and hands the Stalag over to him, or if Hochstetter decides to take it over without any further arguing…"
"I'll give it to 'im right in the back," Newkirk promised.
Hogan nodded.
"They're gonna trace it back to us soon enough, but the confusion will give us enough time to have Carter set off the charges in the tunnels and destroy them. Get going, Newkirk; I don't think Klink can hold out for much longer."
"Right-o, Sir," the Englishman said.
"Bonne chance, mon pote," LeBeau said.
Newkirk nodded and headed back to the main table. Carter gave him a quick glance as the Englishman took the pistol that had been secured in one of the stools.
"Are you doing what I think you're doing?"
"Colonel's orders," Newkirk said. "If 'ochstetter takes the camp, 'e won't get to do anything with it. Our position will be just as bad, but at least he'll be joining us."
"Maybe you won't have to," Carter said. "Maybe Hochstetter will go away empty-handed."
"You really believe that, don't you? What do you know that I don't?"
Carter shrugged and looked back outside.
"I know the same things that you and everyone else on the team knows. You guys just don't realize it."
Newkirk shook his head; this wasn't the time or the place to discuss things, anyway. He gave Carter a quick wave and headed down the tunnel. He passed Thomas, Baker, and Garlotti, still setting up Carter's charges. Baker met Newkirk's gaze for a moment and immediately understood what he was doing.
"Good luck, Newkirk," he said.
The Englishman nodded, his throat suddenly too tight to speak. He proceeded to the end of the branch tunnel that opened into Klink's quarters; the cast-iron stove swung aside silently, and the corporal eased into the room.
He could hear Hochstetter screaming through the door; slowly, he turned the door handle and eased it open. Klink was cowering at his desk, Schultz was cowering by the door, and Hochstetter was shaking with rage and frustration; Newkirk was half expecting to see smoke issuing from the Major's ears.
"Klink, I tire of this!" he said, practically frothing at the mouth. "Just what do you intend to do?"
Klink looked up at him.
"Er, I… I consider it my duty to… to call any superior officer in the vicinity and do as they order."
"Klink, there are no superior officers in the vicinity!" Hochstetter screamed. "Do you expect them to stay as the Americans approach!?"
"Ah," Klink said. "That makes it much, much clearer."
"Good. I am glad you are finally beginning to see sense!" Hochstetter sneered. "I take it, then, that you will hand over Stalag Thirteen to me?"
Newkirk raised the pistol, aiming for the spot right between the major's shoulder blades.
"Er… actually, I do not think that would be wise at this present moment."
Klink's words nearly caused Newkirk to lose his grip on the gun.
"WHAT!?" Hochstetter barked.
"It… Well, you understand, Major… Any sort of act that would be construed as abandoning my post here would make things look very, very bleak when my superiors returned. There's… there's also the Geneva Convention to consider. Plus, I think it would be much, much better if, when the Americans arrived, they found someone like me in charge here instead of… Well, you understand, Major, you are rather difficult to like—"
"BAH!" the Major snarled. "I have had enough of this; I am hereby—"
The drone of an airplane outside was then followed by shouts from Hochstetter's men outside. One of them came in, frantically waving handfuls of leaflets that had been, apparently, dropped from the plane.
"The Americans are coming! Less than an hour away! They are coming to liberate the Stalag!"
"Impossible!" Hochstetter sputtered, going pale as he read one of the leaflets. "'…We advise the Germans at Stalag Thirteen to peacefully surrender when the tiger descends upon them…'"
"Ohh…" Klink sighed, looking blankly. "You know, perhaps if I ask Colonel Hogan to put in a good word—"
"Bah, the Americans can have you! Perhaps Hogan won't be as dangerous to us back in his own army's hands!" Hochstetter snarled. He then turned to his mercenary. "Tell the others we are moving out!"
He threw the leaflet aside, storming out of Klink's office with his mercenary. And as Klink and Schultz followed Hochstetter and the other man out (still discussing about how to butter Hogan up, much to the major's ire), the corporal breathed a quiet sigh and headed back through the tunnel.
He emerged out of the bunk bed entrance to a quiet-but-enthusiastic celebration. LeBeau immediately clasped his shoulders, excitedly saying something in French.
"Whatever you said, Little Mate, I agree!" Newkirk responded, with a broad grin.
"Bon; you just agreed to partake in the variety of French dishes I am planning to make in celebration tonight!"
"Oh, Cor…"
"Why not make some American dishes for our soon-to-be-arriving liberators?" Garlotti asked.
"Because they're only going to be arriving tomorrow," Hogan said, wiping the last of the sweat from his brow. "Hochstetter was right; it was impossible for them to arrive so quickly. Those leaflets had to have been Tiger's idea—she practically signed her name on it with that 'tiger descends' bit; she must've had her ear to the ground and appealed to the brass when she heard about Hochstetter's plan to take over."
"And you knew," Newkirk said to Carter. "You ruddy well knew the entire time!"
"Well, I didn't know. Made an informed guess, actually," the sergeant said, with a grin, before turning back to the door. "There were two things I counted on—one was on Klink wanting to escape the war in the best position possible. I knew he'd want to surrender peacefully when our guys showed up and have Colonel Hogan vouch for him. But I also knew that after everything we've done for them, there was no way that the Underground would leave us completely high and dry, even if they were very limited in what they could do. It's like I told you—everything we've done has led to this. If we hadn't done all that—keeping Klink safe and helping out the Underground—we wouldn't have a reason to celebrate now." His shoulders stiffened as he glanced outside. "Klink and Schultz are on their way."
"And I know exactly why," Hogan said. "Hey, Fellas, do me a favor, huh? Try not to have too good a time in while I'm stuck watching a grown man beg for the next hour or so."
Privately, though, the colonel admitted that this was a far, far better alternative than the ending he had been expecting.
Newkirk watched in amusement as Klink entered and immediately asked to speak to Hogan in his office—with a notably more pleading tone than usual. Schultz began to ask LeBeau for "one last batch of apple strudel," much to the Frenchman's exasperation.
The Englishman then caught the eye of the American sergeant, who merely grinned again in response.
There had been a lot of times that Newkirk had thought that Carter sometimes didn't have an idea as to what was going on. But today had proven that Carter sometimes knew far more than they realized.