When Zucchini Attacks
By
Jennaya
Disclaimer:
All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of CBS and Ryscher Entertainment. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Kinch stood slowly turning the exterior periscope clockwise studying the area around the tree stump entrance. The afternoon was half over, bored stiff and looking for something to do; he continued to turn the instrument, while contemplating a way to make the field of vision wider.
"Anything interestin'?" Newkirk asked, as he and LeBeau walked up beside the radioman.
"Nope. Not even a single guard patrolling outside the wire," Kinch brought the periscope to a halt looking at his friends.
"We need to make this thing longer so anyone can use it," LeBeau grumbled, as he watched the taller man move it with ease.
"I think it's a pretty good height," Kinch smirked, looking back into the periscope's eyepiece turning it towards the woods. Suddenly he stopped, his body language becoming alert and tense. "Holy crap!"
"What?" both Newkirk and LeBeau asked simultaneously, fear in their voices with a dozen different possible dreadful scenarios filling their heads.
"Olsen's seriously hurt," Kinch said dropping the scope running to the exterior ladder with Newkirk on his heels. He opened the lid climbing out of the tree trunk staying low. Although he knew no guards were outside the wire, he didn't want to draw the attention of the tower guards.
Olsen crawled towards the tree trunk cradling his left arm, so focused on his goal that he didn't see his buddies until they appeared at his side. He looked up at Kinch, shock, pain, horror, disbelief written on his face.
"What happened?" Kinch asked as he knelt by the injured man. Olsen didn't respond, instead collapsing into Kinch's arms.
Sharing a worried look, both men picked up the sergeant carrying him to the tunnel entrance. The Englander opened the hatch to see three equally concerned faces looking up. "Careful with his arm," Newkirk said passing the unconscious man below, then climbing inside with Kinch seconds behind him. Hogan and Carter carried Olsen to the cot in the radio room laying him down gently, trying to bring him around.
LeBeau stood back, the massive amount of blood covering Olsen's clothes nearly overwhelming him. The taste of sour vomit came up his throat as black splotches played havoc with his field of vision. "I'll…get Wilson," he took off in a run before embarrassing himself by fainting.
"Did he say anything?" Hogan demanded removing the German civilian coat and shirt to get a better look at the injuries.
"Nothing, sir," Kinch replied helping Hogan remove the clothing.
"How could this have happened? He left not three hours ago," Carter was bewildered, eyes wide in shock. He grabbed a blanket to cover Olsen who was shivering.
Moments later, Sergeant Joe Wilson came running down the tunnel. "LeBeau said Olsen had been shot?"
"Not sure what happened," Hogan moved allowing the medic to examine his patient.
Wilson's trained eye didn't see a bullet wound, he felt for a pulse, finding it fast and thready; his skin cold and clammy. "He's lost too much blood. I need blood donors immediately!"
"He gave me blood a few months ago," Hogan stated rolling up his sleeve.
"You're not a match for him. Olsen can give blood to anyone, but can only take his type, O negative. LeBeau, can you round up my special group of donors and tell them what we need?" Wilson asked never removing his eyes from his patient.
"Carter, help him," Hogan ordered as the men left to accomplish their task. "What can we do?"
"I don't understand," Wilson mumbled continuing his exam not answering the question posed. The only visible injury was to Olsen's left arm, which looked like it had been cauterized, three hundred and sixty degrees around the upper forearm about two inches below the elbow. The blood splatter on the clothes indicated all the blood came from the single injury. "Sir, I have no idea what would cause this wound or how to treat him. It doesn't make sense. We need Doctor Prust's help, and now.* If Olsen's going to live, we can't wait to smuggle him in after dark."
Hogan let out a deep breath, running his hand through his dark hair. Klink would have to be convinced to get help but not to send Olsen to the hospital, a tricky balance to pull off. Plus the Kommandant was in a foul mood today. With no idea how or where the injury had occurred, if his downed man showed up in a hospital, it could put the entire operation at danger; a risk Hogan couldn't take.
Just then, Carter showed up with four men in tow. "LeBeau is rounding up the others." Instantly, Private Mason** rolled up his sleeve sitting down next to Olsen as Newkirk started the blood donor process.
"Keep him connected for fifteen minutes," Wilson started.
"I can do more," Mason interrupted, determined to do help any way possible.
"No. Fifteen minutes, then he'll need to rest for a few minutes before the move upstairs, at which time we'll hook someone else up. But we may need you later," Wilson smiled at the youngest private in camp.
"Once we get him topside, I'll go talk to Klink. Kinch, get on the radio and explain to Prust what we need. If you can't reach him, contact Bluebird***. In fact, contact Bluebird anyway, and see if he knows what might have happened," Hogan ordered pacing through the small room. His fear for Olsen evident, but he had an entire camp to worry about. Depending on the circumstances, an emergency evacuation might be warranted.
"Sir, I might be able to help with an explanation of the injury to Klink," Wilson said. Hogan stopped pacing raising an eyebrow. "When LeBeau found me, I was at the woodpile. There had been an accident with several minor injuries. Part of the stack became unstable and fell on four men. Nothing major, bruises, a couple of sprains, but Sergeant McMahon had been hit in the face and had a nosebleed, so there's blood on the ground. We could say that Olsen was under that pileup and became injured there."
"Why am I just hearing about this? Who is taking care of the men above?" Hogan demanded looking at the men gathered around.
"I assumed you were down here with Olsen when it occurred. Sergeant Anderson has things under control," Wilson said, confident in his most experienced senior medic's ability to handle all the injuries.
Hogan watched Olsen for a moment, his chest rising slowly and too shallow for his liking. With nothing more that he could do down here, he needed to put in an appearance at the woodpile ensuring the men were treated appropriately. He had no doubt in Anderson's abilities, but he had a duty to show up anytime his men were hurt. "Move him into my quarters as quickly as possible, and come get me. I'll be at the woodpile, or the infirmary depending where the men are," Hogan ordered leaving the radio room.
He climbed up the ladder to the hut, and after the hidden entrance was secured, exited through the front door. Quickly walking through the compound, he came to a sudden stop at the fenced in area that held the wood stacks, shocked at how much had fallen.
"Herr Colonel, it wasn't anyone's fault. It was an accident, although I'm not sure what caused it. But the men will be okay," Corporal Langenscheidt said quickly, picking up a piece of wood.
"Does Klink know?" Hogan asked looking around at the sight. How serious injuries had been avoided he wasn't sure. A few men where restacking the wood to a lower height than previously used.
"Nein. I…I mean I sent someone over there, but the Kommandant was on the phone with General Burkhalter and wouldn't let the guard in. I'm on my way now…I wanted to make sure the men were taken care of first," Langenscheidt feared he would get in trouble because he was in charge of the wood stacks.
"That was good thinking. I want to check on the men in the infirmary, and then we can go tell the Kommandant together," Hogan said. The Colonel gave orders to the men cleaning up to be careful, and thanked them for pitching in without being asked. Afterwards, he made his way to the infirmary with Langenscheidt in tow. Four men were scattered around the small building with two medics tending to them. Sergeant McMahon laid on a bed with an icepack on his face.**** Two corporals had icepacks on their arms; a private was having his ankle wrapped by the junior medic.
"How is everyone in here?" Hogan asked walking up to Anderson.
"Minor injuries only. A few days, and everyone will be back to normal," the medic said, quietly adding. "Sir, how is Olsen?"
Before answering, Hogan and Anderson moved away from the guard. "He's in bad shape." In hushed tones, he quickly explained the plan. Anderson nodded his head understanding his part, then loud enough for the German guard to hear, asked the same question.
"What happened to Sergeant Olsen?" Langenscheidt asked, moving over near the Colonel and medic.
"He was also injured when the wood tumbled down, but he was taken to Barracks Two for privacy because of his injuries," Anderson said.
"Olsen wasn't there," Langenscheidt looked confused.
"He was on the bottom of the fallen wood, you might have missed him," Hogan turned the charm on. The guard shook his head no.
"Of course he was. He was below me in the pileup and softened my landing," Sergeant McMahon said sitting up. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but Wilson had been working on him when LeBeau had come to get the medic. Every man in the infirmary made a comment, positive that they'd all seen Olsen get hurt there.
Langenscheidt swallowed hard looking around with enlarged eyes. Why did Schultz have to be out of camp getting supplies when something of this magnitude occurred? The head guard always knew what to do when Colonel Hogan was pulling one of his ruses. He looked over at the Colonel, who was giving him a look that said he should agree. Langenscheidt felt his mouth go dry. What should he do? Tell the Kommandant the truth, or let Hogan have his way? He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he made his decision to follow Schultz's advice, when Colonel Hogan was involved in something. "I must have missed him in the confusion. Will he be all right?"
"He's seriously wounded, so I need to speak with Klink about getting him some help," Hogan answered nodding his head approvingly at the younger man.
Behind him, Baker entered the infirmary. "Sir, Wilson is asking what the Kommandant is going to do."
"We're on our way to find out now. Tell Wilson that I'll let him know in a few minutes," Hogan ordered, understanding the code that everything was ready in Barracks Two.
Langenscheidt followed Hogan over to the Kommandantur wordlessly. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know how Olsen became injured. He liked the Sergeant, and hoped the Kommandant would get him some help, and this didn't come back to haunt him.
Grumbling, Klink pulled paperwork out of the file cabinet in the outer office when the men entered the building. He nearly groaned when the American walked in. "Hogan, I don't care what it is; it has to wait until I finish this report for the General."
"Sir, I need to talk to you about an incident," Hogan started only to be cutoff by Klink.
"I said it has to wait! Langenscheidt, take Colonel Hogan back to his barracks and make sure he stays there," Klink ordered. Without allowing Hogan to utter another word, Klink slammed the inner office door in the American's face.
* Thank you ColHogan for allowing Doctor Prust to make a house call.
**Mason is the sixteen year old from my story Yesterday's Memories.
***Bluebird aka, Captain Fritz Fuchs, is Major Hochstetter's second-in-command and a valued underground agent. He's in several of my stories including Shades of Family.
**** Sergeant McMahon is from the episode What Time Does the Balloon Go Up