Disclaimer: I don't own Foyle's War, I have merely borrowed the characters.

A/N The Article at the beginning was copied from the DVD 'The German Woman', I froze it on the screen when I noticed that it looked a bit wrong. And this is my story to explain what was probably a production error. I prefer my version.

The Incorrect Article.

Our Trondheim Hero Returns.

Sergeant Paul Milner, who left behind a promising career in the police force to join our troops fighting in Norway, returned home today, a brave casualty of war. Milner, a courageous and effective officer in both forces declared himself "ready for action" as soon as he has recovered from his wounds.

Start of the engagement was when four cannon shells from a Messerschmitt 110 struck the Hurricane in which he was travelling.

The first sent splinters from the hood into the pilot's eye: the second fired the spare petrol tank and set the plane on fire: the third crashed into the cockpit and tore away his trouser leg, the fourth hit his foot.

Doctor's at St Mary's Hospital say it will be at least four month's before Mr Milner will be able to walk with the aid of sticks but last night he took part in the hospital concert, crooning and playing a tin whistle as one of the Harmony Boys Choir.

Shortly he will join his wife, baby son of three weeks leave. The child was born one month before his father's flight---

"What a load of rubbish!" Paul Milner growled after reading only half of the newspaper article about him. "The only thing they got right was my name!"

"What's up mate?" the patient in the next bed over asked.

"It's this article in the local paper. According to them I'm a pilot and will be able to walk again as I still have both of my legs. Oh and I've got a baby son. Since when do I have a baby son?!?" Paul threw the paper from his bed, hitting the table in the centre of the ward.

"Calm down mate, it's only an article…"
"But it's completely wrong! It's about someone else. It can't be about me, they've made a mistake. They didn't even get my rank right. If I could get my hands on this writer I'd…"

"You'd what Corporal Milner?" Nurse Henderson demanded as she walked up angrily, "Throw your paper at him?" She picked up the newspaper and lay it on his bedside cabinet. "Are you in pain?"

"Yes."

"Well that explains your grumpy mood but at least you're talking for once," she smiled brightly at him and plumped up his pillows, "It makes a nice change." Paul glared at her. He wanted to be left alone to wallow in his self-pity. His life as he knew it was over, gone forever. The least that could happen was that people could know the right story and not be told a complete work of fiction. "Anyway, there's nothing you can do about the article so just calm down or you'll end up aggravating your wounds."

"Nothing I can do?" Paul asked angrily, "It seems that just one of the many things I can't do anything about. Sometimes I wish that bomb had killed me out right and not left me a cripple."

"Don't you dare say that! My brother was killed at Trondheim! You should be happy you're alive!" and with that said she stormed off, going to a patient on the other side of the ward.

"Now you've done it mate. You've pissed off your Nurse. Next time you get your medicine it'll be nasty," the other patient said warily, "I've found it's always best to be nice to your Nurse or…"

"Oh leave me alone!" Paul turned his head away and glared at the patient sleeping in the next bed even though he hadn't actually done anything. He was just something to glare at. And he lay there in silence until he fell asleep.

The bombs were falling, killing.

People were panicking, screaming, running to their death this way and that.

Planes with cobwebs covering them were firing pathetic bullet at the Germans.

The screams became Witches howls, filling his head.

He was going to die; they were all going to die.

Time slowed down as he stared up at the sky, up at the bomb aimed right for him. Riding on it was Hitler, a cartoon version of Hitler, laughing and pointing, telling him her was going to die!

And then, speeding up all of a sudden, the bomb hit…

…jerking him awake with a deep gasp, his body sweating and spasming. He would have thrown himself form his bed but a well place orderly caught him and lay him back onto his bed.

"It's ok Corporal, it was only a nightmare. You're alright," the orderly said kindly. Paul noticed now a Nurse on his other side, holding his other arm. "You alright now? Calmed down?"

"Yes…y-yes. You can let go now," Paul gasped out. They did so warily and he relaxed back into his pillow, the images still clear in his mind. Although they had been warped in his nightmare the facts had all been true. People had been screaming as the bombs fell. He had been sure that he and all the others were going to die. And it was a bomb that had taken his leg, an almost direct hit. A hit that had killed the three men to his left but spared his miserable life.

"I'm going to checking your wounds, you might have pulled some stitches. You were thrashing quote a bit," Nurse Henderson was being kind to him now despite his treatment of her earlier.

"I'm sorry about earlier…" he mumbled as she pulled back the sheet from the frame protecting his wounded leg. "…I shouldn't have…"

"It's alright. You've been through a lot and I shouldn't have reacted like that. Oh dear, I was right. You have pulled a couple of stitches. I'll have to fetch a Doctor," she smiled down at him, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

"We both behaved badly…"

"And we've both apologised so that's the end of that. Now I must get a Doctor. I'll be back shortly," away she went and Paul's breathing started to calm down, his hands unclenched at his sides.

"You ok mate?" the same patient as earlier asked worriedly.

"Yes."

"Memories?"

"Sort of."

"D'you know I've been thinking," the patient said, sounding like he was smiling, "A dangerous thing I know but if you're really upset about that article why don't you write a letter of complaint. You could put in your account of what really happened." Paul turned his head and looked at the man who had bandages over most of his face but especially his eyes.

"That's-that's a brilliant idea…" Paul finally said quietly. "Thank you."

"Was nothing. Got nothing else to occupy my time with other than thinking. Not like I could read a book," the man shrugged. "Oh and someone came to see you when you were asleep, before you started thrashing about. A posh man, asking how you were. Didn't get a name I'm afraid."

"I don't know who that could be," Paul bit his lip thoughtfully. "Oh well, I think I'll start on that letter." He leant up slightly and tried to reach into his bedside cabinet for his notepad and pencil-

"Don't you dare! Lay back in your bed!" Nurse Henderson was back, "You've just pulled some stitches, do you want to pull more?!?"

"Sorry," Paul mumbled, resting back. The Doctor was grinning at the pair of them as he unwound Paul's bandages to access the damage more closely. "I was trying to get my pad and pencil. I'm going to write to the paper about the article."

"Was my idea," the other patient said proudly.

"Really Stan. You thought of something useful and non violent for Corporal Milner to do about his problem?" Nurse Henderson pretended to sound shocked. "And you agreed to it?" This question was for Paul who nodded as the Doctor began to re-stitch the little tear on the inside of Paul's thigh. "Well then, I'll get the things for you and you can begin."

"Thank you."

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Paul Milner and you recently ran a story about my return from the front. I'm afraid that I am writing to complain about the article. It was all wrong, almost every fact in it was completely wrong.

I wasn't a pilot in a Hurricane and I wasn't shot by a Messerschmitt 110. I was a Corporal in the Terriers and I was wounded in the bombings of Trondheim. I have completely lost my left leg from just bellow the knee and will need a prosthetic to walk again, not only sticks as your article claimed. I have never said that I am "ready for action" once I have recovered; I am far from it. I am done with fighting; my war is over. I look forward to living my life out in peace with my wife and I hope for this war to be over soon.

I believe you might have mixed my story up with someone else's and hope you will print another article correcting the matter.

Oh and one last thing, my wife and I do not have a baby son.

Yours Sincerely,

Corporal Paul Milner.

Nurse Henderson posted it almost immediately and then later that day he had a visit from someone he hadn't expected, Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle. And he'd asked him to look over some case notes for him.

"That was the guy from before," Stan had said once Foyle was gone.

And the rest of the story, as you know, is history.

A/N This is a one off I wrote in one night. Go me. Overdosing on Foyle's War atm thanks to the new series and my DVD's. Gotta love it.