For Hogan's team, and most of Stalag 13, there wasn't any chance for excitement or worry or gawking at the volume of what was about to happen, because they themselves were caught up in the whole mess of getting the Field Marshall's wife out of Stalag 13, and running interference for the mission, and whatnot.
But then it seemed it was like a loaded spring, because all of a sudden everything deflated and it tore the breath out of Stalag 13.
Colonel Hogan didn't think there had ever been a time when the recreation hut wasn't a mass of people, cigarette smoke, carrying the nostalgia of a scratched record. Now it was a silent creaking of chairs, clearing of throats, and tapping fingers. Donny Addison was on the piano. The Battle Hymn of the Republic. Hogan vaguely remembered hearing when it was finally tuned. Addison was probably the best player in Stalag 13, and now some peoples' eyes were on him and others stared at some undefined point, and several glanced up as Hogan walked in. Most nodded, a couple saluted absently, and Kinch tapped his fingers at the empty spot on the table. Hogan sat.
Donny missed a note, and then several, and then, frustrated, he dropped his hands. They shook.
"Did we win?" He asked quietly.
All eyes turned to Hogan.
And Hogan was a commander. Commanders didn't breath casualties. They walked ground gained.
"Yeah," He said, "We won."
This should be a short series of shots of our various characters, published over the next day or two or so. Thanks for reading!