A/N: This was written as a class assignment for a university extension class I recently completed…
Hammelburg, Germany
1943
Heimie recognized the two men making their way stealthily through the undergrowth. He climbed down from his perch in the beech tree, and crouched down behind a thick stand of brush. He was very still, waiting until they were nearly upon him, before he whistled softly, giving the coded signal.
Instantly, the two men froze and dropped to the forest floor. Cautiously, Newkirk returned the signal, using the prearranged countersign. To their amazement, a young boy poked his head up from behind some nearby bushes.
In German, the boy asked, "Has the nightingale returned to her nest?"
And Carter replied, "Not yet, she has many more miles to fly."
Satisfied, the boy handed Newkirk a folded envelope, that looked as if it had itself traveled many miles. He tucked it away quickly, and turned to go.
"Wait!" Carter reached into his pocket and handed the boy his last chocolate bar. Heimie's face was lit by a thousand-watt grin. "Danké!"
"Bitté!"
It was then that Newkirk discovered that the boy had lifted his wallet, as neatly as he might have himself. He held out his hand, and glowered at the kid. "Hand it over there, Dillinger!"
The boy shot Newkirk a sullen look and returned the wallet, liberally smeared with chocolate.
He then turned on his heel and sprinted off the way he had come.
~HH~
Andrew was trying very hard not to laugh, his blue eyes dancing. He could feel Peter's glare searing into his neck as they hiked back to camp. Peter ran his hand through his thick brown hair and felt the lump the kid had left there. He was a bloody good shot, and brave to boot. And Peter was sure his best mate would never let him live it down.
"Colonel Hogan could'a told us the contact was a bloody kid, y'know!" he groused.
Andrew chuckled. "I doubt he knew. They usually send Rapunzel, don't they?"
"Yeah, or flippin' Hansel. I keep losin' track. Anyhow, the little blighter didn't have to bean me in the 'ead!"
"Well, you didn't have to yell at him like that either." Carter said mildly.
"Yeah? An' he needs to learn to keep 'is hands in 'is own pockets, mate!"
Andrew nearly fell over at that. "You're just mad because he managed to steal your watch without you realizing it."
Peter stared at his bare wrist for a moment…and smirked. "There is that. Cheeky little devil, ain't 'e?"
And the two Heroes made their way back to Stalag 13.
~The End~