This story doesn't have so much of a plotline as "Bianca was on holiday and thought of as many crazy things as possible to put in one story." Enjoy!

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It was a normal night in Hammelburg, Germany. Or at least as normal as a night could get in the middle of a war. Or at least, 'normal' was what the German guard was thinking as he patrolled back and forth across one of the two main bridges of Hammelburg thinking about all the better ways he could be spending his time. Little did he know that underneath that bridge two men were planting explosives set to go off at midnight, on London's orders. Little did he know that the other main bridge in Hammelburg was also being mined, in order to delay a large truck convoy long enough for the famous 'Papa Bear' to blow it up.

The famous 'Papa Bear,' otherwise known as Colonel Robert E. Hogan, was in fact one of the two men under the first bridge. With him was his second in command, Sergeant James Kinchloe. Both men were dressed head to toe in black and Hogan had black smudges all over his face. Neither of them would have been easy to spot by anyone who didn't already know they were there.

They spent as little time as possible under the bridge, working quickly and silently to plant the explosives and set the timer for midnight. Nobody saw them sneak out of under the bridge once they were done and they remained unobserved as they crept through the woods back to Stalag 13. Even the camp guards remained thankfully unaware as Hogan and Kinch smoothly entered their tunnel system under the camp via the top of a tree stump.

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Unfortunately at the other bridge, the rest of Hogan's men were not having such luck. Newkirk had elected himself to keep watch while Carter and LeBeau mined the bridge. All three men were nervous and their nerves were starting to rub off on each other. Carter had already nearly dropped his share of the explosives twice, causing LeBeau to let loose a string of French under his breath which Carter did not desire a translation for. From his perch a little further along the bridge, Newkirk was shooting the pair of them daggers.

'If looks could kill...' he thought to himself, of course not really meaning it but at the same time not being too impressed with his friends.

After what felt like hours but was in reality only a few minutes, the explosives were in place and the timers set. All three men let out audible sighs of relief once they were a safe distance away.

"Blimey, I thought you two would never finish!" exclaimed Newkirk in a frustrated (and relieved) whisper. LeBeau simply glared at him while Carter opened his mouth to respond.

"Well, I couldn't help it! Boy, that's -"

Carter never got a chance to finish his sentence because two hands had covered his mouth at the same time. Newkirk and LeBeau were both glaring at him, and Carter's eyes went wide as he realised how loudly he had just been speaking. He blinked slowly, staring at his friends and trying to apologize with his eyes while he waited for them to remove their hands from his mouth.

"If ya don't mind Louis," whispered Newkirk, "I really don't need ya oldin' me 'and."

LeBeau returned his glare to Newkirk but removed his hand from Carter's mouth, allowing the Englishman to comfortably do the same.

"Sorry!" exclaimed Carter, earning himself some more glares from his friends. Catching himself, he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. "Sorry!"

Newkirk and LeBeau rolled their eyes before all three moved on again, this time in total silence. They managed for a good two minutes before the lack of any noise became too uncomfortable for Cater and he opened his mouth to whisper something.

At that precise second a loud voice made itself heard from somewhere up ahead. Carter closed his mouth in shock and all three men drew their guns. The voice made itself heard again and the eyes of all three men widened in surprise. It was a British voice. Another British voice responded in a loud whisper.

Newkirk crept forward slowly, closely followed by LeBeau and Carter. They crouched behind a large bush and peered through the twigs and leaves. On the other side were seven men, six of them wearing civilian suits very obviously made out of blankets. Newkirk cringed, already imagining the terrible stitching that must have gone into the outfits. The other man of the group was dressed in RAF officers uniform.

Carter eagerly stepped out to greet them, realising too late that the man in RAF uniform was none other than Colonel Crittendon.

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"Uhh, sir, why don't you go scout ahead?"

Crittendon looked at Newkirk in surprise, wondering why there had been a note of desperation in the man's voice. Newkirk stared back, trying not to look too uncomfortable. They were getting close to camp and Colonel Hogan would never forgive them if they showed up with Crittendon.

"Oui, why don't you go that way?" whispered LeBeau, pointing in the opposite direction to the camp.

"Nonsense chaps!" exclaimed Crittendon, not troubling to keep his voice down and earning the same glare from Newkirk and LeBeau that Carter had been the victim of earlier. Ignoring them, he carried on with what he wanted to say. "It is my duty to make sure this is a successful escape, and that means sticking with my men every step of the way."

"I was afraid of that," muttered Newkirk. He sighed in resignation and followed the others as they made their way back to Stalag 13.

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"What took you guys so long?" demanded Kinch as Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau emerged into the barracks from the tunnel. Kinch tried to sound stern, but his eyes betrayed his worry.

"Well, we bumped into a couple of escaped prisoners from Stalag 6 on the way back..." began LeBeau, catching Colonel Hogan's eyes before quickly looking away.

"A couple?" questioned Hogan, sounding suspicious.

"Six, to be exact, sir," added Newkirk. Hogan noted that he had the same guilty expression on his face as LeBeau.

"Yeah, we hid them down in the tunnels until you can think of a way to get them back to England!" piper up Carter. "Uhh, sir."

"Look, we have a truck convoy to blow up tomorrow and I still don't know how. Now is not exactly the time to be sending men off to England – after the bridges blow the woods will be crawling with Gestapo!"

Hogan's men stared in shock, three of them also looking guilty, during his outburst. They all knew their commanding officer had been under a lot of stress lately thanks to pressure from both London and the Germans over various issues, and they knew having extra men to get back to England was only adding to the pressure, but it still always came as a surprise when Hogan lost the perfect control he usually had over his temper. He paced the room for a full minute before turning back to face Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau. Seeing their faces, a mixture of guilt, shame and a small amount of defiance, Hogan began to feel a little guilty himself.

"Okay, maybe, maybe, we can get those boys out in a few days, once the heat is off. I'll think of something."

Carter immediately looked relieved, but Newkirk and LeBeau still looked guilty about something. Hogan crossed his arms and looked at them questioningly, starting to feel suspicious again.

"Why is it that I have this nasty feeling there's still something you guys haven't told me?"

Newkirk and LeBeau stared at each other, both willing the other to speak. Eventually, and with an encouraging glare from Hogan, LeBeau confessed.

"You see, Mon Colonel, there was this officer with the six men who just insisted on coming along. Newkirk and I tried to lose him, but..."

Hogan took in a deep breath and held it as long as he could before letting it back out, slowly. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he knew who this officer was, and one look at Kinch's face confirmed he was thinking the same thing...