Teeth clattering, Sgt. Kinchloe continued his ever patient position as radio operator. Communications to and from Stalag 13 varied greatly from mission to mission, including the breaks in between. Today, however, it was mostly silent, like it had been for a long while. Stuck in the ever chilling tunnels, Kinch waited for a reply from the underground; it had been nearly an hour since he sent the first original message. He repeated the message many times since then.

Quickly, Kinch checked the time on his watch, briefly exposing his wrist to the cold. In another 15 minutes, he, along with the other prisoners, would have to show up outside for roll call. For the sergeant, it was merely a switch from a cool tunnel to an even colder outdoor headcount.

He breathed on his numb hands for warmth. A hot cup of joe sounded just like Heaven at the moment; at least it would heat up his insides, if not his stiff digits. Le Beau was most likely up in the barracks brewing a pot of coffee as he worked this very moment. Hopefully the short Frenchman would be thoughtful and bring down some for him.

A sharp drop in temperature rudely awakened Kinch from his simple fantasy. Before, Kinch could see a faint mist created from his breath, but now it formed it's own puffy, miniature cloud. He watched the thick formation slowly dissipate.

"This is ridiculous," Kinch grumbled under his breath. He was stuck underground, freezing, and was waiting for a non-existent radio reply. Thinking to try to call out one more time before giving up, he then began to transmit his message again.

Then the radio noise turned to static, the machine itself flickering on and off. The light bulb above his work area became erratic. At first, the radio man blamed the cold weather; still, there were few wires down here, as most of the light came from freestanding lamps. Something more pinpointed had to be disrupting the bulb, let alone the radio.

Someone's messing with the wiring, Kinch immediately deduced. Was there a spy hiding in the shadows, sabotaging the operation? But who? And how?

Kinch didn't waste time dwelling on such questions. As soon as he had thought the statement, he had already taken off his headphones and retrieved a revolver from his hidden hip holster. Whoever was messing around in the tunnel, he or she did not notice Kinch take action; the equipment had continued to act haywire without getting better or worse. He strained his ears to pick up any slight movement or sound, like the cackle of static, or even a strained voice laboring on some wiring.

The sergeant was so focused on his current dilemma, that he now completely ignored the fact that his army uniform did little to shield him from the still, frosty atmosphere. All that Kinch was aware of was the danger to not just the operation, but to the men and him, and possibly even to their contacts. He dearly wanted some back up, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself or scare away the intruder.

Lights all over the various tunnels and main chamber slowly joined in on the chaotic flickering one by one, each second adding more strain to Kinch's vision. Even the lamps began to play along. Kinch could have sworn that they were silently humming too; some even slightly swinging. He then shrugged it off. It was then he felt like the person, whoever it was, was now toying with him.

Hurried and heavy footsteps sounded off echoes behind Kinch, who spun on his heel and aimed. Nothing, but everything continued to dance their show.

Light bulbs and sounds were in an absolute frenzy now, creating a disturbing fun house, but without the fun. Slightly dazed from the light show, Kinch heard the footsteps again. And again. And again, which sent the already disoriented man coming off balance. What was left? Right? Forward and back? The frosted air, the lights, the footsteps, the voice-wait, a voice?

Finally Kinch stopped swerving around on his spot, aiming his weapon at where he heard the voice.

"Stop it!" the man yelled. Whoever-or whatever-it was, the command didn't deter them. The bulbs were pulsating ever faster now, as if it were Kinch's own spooked heartbeat. It was all feeding off his confusion. Then the heavy footsteps seemed to be scuffling around him in a circle, each turn gaining closer to Kinch. With still nothing there! Just as the frantic sergeant spotted a shadow in his peripheral vision, which to him resembled a German helmet and rifle, he heard the voice again. It was frighteningly clear, crisp like the air.

"Passen Sie das Kind von Irland auf,"

"STOP IT!" Kinch boomed, turning around to face the trespasser. Instead, he tripped over an unnoticed wicket chair, almost invisible from the flashing lights. Kinch fell harshly on the ground and sent his revolver flying across the floor in the process.

"Kinch !"

Hastily, he got up on his hands and knees in response to his name, trying to absorb his drastically changed environment. Everything was lit dimly again; nothing was flickering or flashing. Even the radio was no longer giving off static. Kinch also realized that the tunnel was no longer a large freezer, and had gone to its normal cool settings. The air barely relieved the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his hairline.

"Kinch! What's going on?"

He finally got up onto his feet, reaching over and replacing his misplaced revolver. He looked over at the ladder and saw Carter halfway down on it. When he knew he had Kinch's attention, he climbed the rest of the way down and went to his side, placing a friendly but firm hand on his shoulder.

"You okay? We heard you shouting, and when I came down you were on the floor-"

"It's nothing," Kinch interjected rather quickly. "I...I'm just frustrated that none of our contacts have called in is all,"

Carter was empty-headed at times, but he knew Kinch. The man was liked for his calm disposition and patience. He would get stern or frustrated, but no one ever heard him raise his voice, let alone hear him yelling.

"Really?" Carter pressed, not convinced. "I've never heard you yell like that; you sure nothing's up?"

"I'm sure. I guess the cold and...small spaces were getting to me; just a little stir crazy,"

To Kinch's surprise, the explosive expert's face split into a friendly smile.

"That's good then! Roll call is in a few minutes, so you can stretch your legs then!"

Kinch just sighed and shook his head.

"Fantastic…"

The two then went up the ladder into the barracks, with Kinch silently thanking Carter for momentarily forgetting his supposed meltdown. Because of the stove, it was slightly warmer, but only slighter. It was better than the tunnel, at least.

"Hey Kinch!" Newkirk called from the table, drinking some coffee, "Colonel says there's going to be a new prisoner coming soon; Klink's going to announce it during roll call"

"Oui, it was heard on our bugs; Klink wants to surprise us," Le Beau added in. Beside him, Colonel Hogan put on a mock frown.

"Now you two spoiled the surprise for him!"

"No worries colonel," Kinch replied grinning, "I've had enough surprises today,"

Hogan then became serious, straightening his back. "News from the underground?"

Kinch shook his head. "Nothing; I think I sent out the same message out at least 20 times in the last hour or so,"

"Strange," Newkirk commented, "Usually they'd have a new mission for us by now,"

"Yeah; it's been a whole month, and I've been doing nothing but making snowmen!" Carter complained as he stuck his hands into his pockets. "Do you know how much I miss blowing up bridges and trains? You know, how they go 'BOOM!' and 'KER-BOOM!' and-"

"We get it Carter," Le Beau chided. The sergeant gave him a bashful grin. It soon faded away when he, along with the other men, noticed Hogan slowly pacing, his arms crossed firmly on his chest.

Kinch knew what was on the colonel's mind. It was strange that there had been a month of silence. When the group finished up their last mission, the trees were nearly done losing the last of their dried, colored leaves; now they were covered in a thick curtain of snow. His leader had every reason to be concerned, and if Hogan was concerned, everyone was.

"Everybody out for roll call! Raus!"

At Schultz's call, the prisoners bustled out in to the freezing night. Once in their places, the men impatiently stomped their feet to keep warm, and Schultz hurried up with his head count.

"Schultz! Report!"

Kinch found himself amused at the large German's eagerness to finish roll call. If only he knew about Klink's "surprise".

"All present and accounted for Herr Kommadant!" Schultz reported cheerfully, a spring in his salute.

"Gut! Now, I have an announcement to make,"

Kinch watched carefully as Schultz's bright attitude slowly stepped along with his oberst, who was walking nearer to the group of prisoners. His focus then fell on Klink as he began to address his audience.

"Prisoners of Stalag 13!" he began with a smug smile, gripping onto his riding crop. "I have an announcement to make!"

"Oh! Is it about a new prisoner sir?" Carter piped up in a pretend excited tone.

"Yeah, a new face 'round here would sure brighten things up in this ruddy camp," Newkirk added.

"Silence, or-wait, how did you know about the new prisoner?"

"It's hopeful wishing sir," Hogan explained, "They can't help longing for new friends,"

"Funny," Klink grumbled, "However, there is going to be a new prisoner, coming tomorr-"

The kommadant was interrupted again as the prisoners cheered. Kinch grinned, but continued to stomp his feet for warmth instead. The antics the rest pulled always amused him, yes, but he'd rather be inside, next to the stove.

"Silence!" Klink shouted, truly aggravated this time, "One more disruption and I will cut the coal rations in half!"

This time, everyone bit their tongue. Kinch was glad, as he was sick of being frozen; he wasn't in the mood for anything colder than it was.

"Now, as I was saying, there is going to be a new prisoner, coming tomorrow. He is a Gestapo prisoner, but Major Hochstetter has seen this efficient, escape-proof camp as a perfect place to place his charge. As his own guards will be watching over him, I expect NOTHING but your most professional military bearing and spotless barracks. If even one measly prisoner breaks the tiniest rule, he will be punished severely and without question!"

Kinch did not miss the surprised look on not just Colonel Hogan's face, but on the other men as well. It was apparent that they did not know the Gestapo was involved. In fact, it was surprising that they were not ahead of the bumbling Klink, as was usual.

The drawn out "dismissed" shook Kinch out of his thoughts, and followed the others back inside. Although the barracks were not cozy warm, it was a definite plus to being out in the harsh German winter. They made it inside before the wind picked up.

"How did we not know that the new prisoner was being held by the Gestapo?" Hogan hissed under his breath, mostly to himself.

"The kettle did short-circuit sir," Carter said.

"You would know Carter; you were the one who used it to brew it for coffee!" Le Beau bereted him. His American friend grinned apologetically.

"In this weather, I'm desperate for anything warm,"

"That's not important now," Hogan stated, leaning against a bunk bed. "What's important is that we keep quiet around the new prisoner, especially since he's got the Gestapo keeping an eye out on him. When he gets here, we need to find out why he's under Hochstetter's watch in the first place, and see if we can trust him,"

Kinch's eyes brightened. For the first time in a month, there was a new mission; it wasn't much, but at least they were being useful. Too bad they couldn't contact the underground about this.

"Finally," Newkirk said while rubbing his hands, "I've been itchin' to get on with something since our last mission,"

Their conversation was cut short when Schultz came in. He quickly shut the door as a hard wind blew in, and Kinch could have sworn there were some snowflakes blowing along.

"Colonal Hogan, Colonel Klink orders all men confined to the barracks, and have lights out by 8:30 tonight," Schultz told him, rubbing his gloved hands together. Men around the barracks groaned and griped.

"Ridiculous! I'm going to have to make a complaint on this to Klink!"

"Please don't Colonel Hogan," Schultz practically begged, "It's freezing, and I'd rather go back to my own barracks to warm up,"

But Hogan was already out the door. Schultz groaned as he wrung his hands, and reached for the doorknob to go after the American. Before he so much as touched it, Hogan slid right back in. He was stiff and had his arms wrapped around himself.

"It is freezing," Hogan managed to get out. Kinch looked over at his fellow comrades, and noticed that they too shared the same dread. For one, there had been an absolute radio silence for a solid month. Now there was a huge snow storm brewing, and there was a new, intriguing prisoner coming in tomorrow. They had no information on him, and not even Colonel Hogan was able to get anywhere.

This wasn't good.

Kinch watched Sergeant Schultz reluctantly rush outside into the snow. Even though the door was firmly closed behind him, drafts slipped into the barracks and caused the air to drop into a teeth-clattering temperature. A few prisoners began to tighten the windows shut, despite the fact that they couldn't be shut any further, and a small huddle formed around the lone stove, where Le Beau was feeding the fire.

Although he joined the shivering prisoners and shared a slice of warmth, the sudden cold rudely reminded Kinch of his incident earlier, down in the tunnel. The sergeant tried to tell himself that the frosty atmosphere was messing with his head. The lack of activity and the even more disturbing radio silence was getting him restless. That was all.

Kinch looked down at his watch, remembering the men's new lights-out policy. A cool breeze swept over his exposed wrist as he checked the time.

"Colonel, it's a quarter to eight. You think the kommadant will let us have a slumber party near the stove?"

A few chuckles managed to come out, but were soon replaced by shivering again. His leader looked over at the man with a half grin; they all knew the answer.

"I'm afraid we'll have to bundle up the best we can," Hogan muttered, sticking his hands into his pockets.

"I'll go to bed if Le Beau promises to make a steaming pot of porridge to warm me belly with," Newkirk commented rather stiffly. His French counterpart, who was standing next to him, lightly elbowed him.

And that was how they all spent the next 15 minutes until it was time for lights-out. Kinch wrapped his thin blanket around him as tightly as he could, already feeling the misery this sleepless night would bring. No one else was sleeping of course, and he could even hear near silent murmurs though out the barracks.

Kinch then uncomfortably turned onto his other side. All he could do was toss and turn, and think; he'd done enough thinking today, and his mind was still somewhat messed up from everything that had happened, so he decided to keep his body busy.

And that was so for the rest of the night.