Visions of Sleep
By
Jennaya O'Neill
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of Bing Crosby productions and others. 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. All original characters and scenarios are copywrite to the author.
Author Notes: Thank you so much to my beta's LJ Groundwater, Waikiki23, and KCS. You helped me so much and added wonderfully to the story. Thank you to my military advisors, Brad B., Paul A., and Tom P. Please read and review.
Colonel Robert E. Hogan paced back and forth across the barracks for the hundredth time. One of his men was late coming back from a mission. As he looked at his wristwatch again, the burrow in his forehead deepened. Two hours late. So many things could have gone wrong. Did the Gestapo or a patrol pick his man up? Was he wounded and dying somewhere? There were too many variables every time one of them left camp. Should he have sent two men on this job? No, it was a one man job meet with their Underground contact a half mile from camp, and pick up some intelligence information on a new research plant. A one man one hour job. What went wrong?
Picking up his jacket Hogan announced, "Any volunteers for a search party?"
Instantly, his three remaining men were on their feet putting on their coats. Hogan wasn't surprised; he knew they were just as worried about their friend. As the bunk bed entrance opened, the four men hastily made their descent down into the secret tunnels that lay under Stalag 13, stopping at the weapons locker.
"Where do you think we should start sir?" Sergeant James Kinchloe asked.
"We'll retrace his route."
"What do you think happened?" Corporal Peter Newkirk inquired.
"I don't know Newkirk; it's not like Carter to be this late."
"Maybe he met a girl?" Corporal Louis LeBeau hoped.
"LeBeau, this is Carter we're talking about."
"Well, I'd be late for a girl."
"That we know." Kinch said as he checked his gun to make sure the extra round was chamber then checked his clipped for a full load.
"Let's go." Hogan ordered.
The four men exited through the emergency tunnel coming up through a tree trunk, one by one avoiding the German spotlight.
Instead of following one another, they spread out in the woods to cover more ground. Each man walked in silence looking in the area between them and the next. Four pairs of eyes scoured the country side, scanning each bush, stopping to check each ravine and hiding spot. If he was injured Carter may not be able to call out or signal for help. Their teammate was out here and they would find him.
Nearing the rendezvous point, Hogan indicated for his men to stop something had caught his attention. All four men crouched down behind cover searching the night for the threat. A German patrol walked by to their right a few seconds later. It was two young soldiers not looking for the enemy, only trying to get through the night with no surprises. The allies held their breath as the Germans went by each man was ready to take out the patrol at the slightest hint of exposure. The Germans never knew the peril they were in.
"What do you think, mon Colonel? Did they capture Carter?"
"I doubt it. That's the only patrol we've seen. If they had Carter in custody, these woods would be crawling with Krauts." Hogan's voice was taunt with concern.
"Colonel, over here." Newkirk whispered. "The brush is broken leading down to the ravine. I think we should check this out."
The ravine was steep with the mud sticking to their boots from the early spring thaw. Looking for the best angle to tackle it the four men carefully traversed the terrain's downhill the slope. Recent thawing of the snow made the mud perilous. Once at the bottom they scattered to look for the missing man.
"Over here, everyone," Kinch called out softly.
He found Sergeant Andrew Carter. Moving to his side no one dared breathe as they assessed his condition. The flashlights covering their fallen friend, a collective sigh of relief was felt as they realized he was breathing, and no mass amounts of blood could be seen. Quickly checking for broken bones and finding none, Kinch and Newkirk turned Carter over to check for other injuries. The only injury they could find was a blow to his head, with a small trail of blood.
"He must have fallen down here and hit his head," LeBeau said, obvious relief mixing with concern.
"Let's get him back to camp," Hogan ordered as Kinch and Newkirk gently picked up their friend. "I'll lead LeBeau you bring up the rear."
The men made their way back up from the ravine slowly, taking care not to fall back down the slope. Half way up they had to stop and rest before carrying Carter up. The trek back to base seemed to last forever; only taking twenty minutes to find Carter and thirty minutes to bring him home. Each moment felt like an eternity as their nerves were on high alert with worry about their friend and looking for German patrols.
As they arrived at the tree stump entrance, the guard patrol inside the camp was changing, allowing the men easy access to re-enter the base. Newkirk went down first taking the still unconscious Carter being lowered by Kinch and LeBeau then moving aside to let the others come down. Entering last, Hogan locked and secured the entrance as he climbed down the ladder, then sent LeBeau upstairs to get the medic.
Minutes later the wounded Carter lay on a cot as the medic, Sergeant Paul Anderson, arrived. Hogan paced around the tunnel while the others took up spots as close as they could to Carter's bunk while still giving the medic room to work.
Why hadn't he gone on this job? Hogan interrogated himself. It was a simple pickup job, easy right? Those sometimes turned out to be the most dangerous, Hogan argued back.
"Well, Anderson?" Hogan demanded, afraid to ask the big question.
"He has a concussion, a pretty bad one."
"What can we do? What do you need?"
"There's not much anyone can do but wait at this point. His pulse is strong; he'll wake up when he wakes up."
"Do we need to get him to a hospital?" Kinch asked.
Newkirk lit a cigarette. "Now how would we do that?"
"We could tell the Boche, he fell off the top bunk." LeBeau suggested.
"No we can't send him to a German hospital. What if he talked?" Hogan stated still pacing trying to think.
"Beggin' the Colonel's pardon, my pal would never give us up." Newkirk was indignant.
"Not on purpose, but coming to after a concussion there's no telling what frame of mind he could be in. He could be delirious, and not know what he's saying, or who he's saying it too. We can't take the risk. Anderson what do you suggest?"
"Colonel right now, I don't know what anyone could do for him. If the Gestapo hadn't executed that underground doctor, I'd ask for him to come see Carter."
"The underground has no one to replace him with so we're on our own. What else do you need?" Hogan asked.
"We have to make sure he doesn't get dehydrated if he's out for long. I do have those supplies. Mostly I'm worried about brain damage. The best we can do is watch and wait, maybe have London on standby for a pickup. I agree it's too dangerous to send him to a German hospital."
"Kinch, make the call. If we need to send him to the hospital, Stalag 13 will have its first escape. The rest of us will get him upstairs to his bunk. Carter's going to be too sick to make roll call this morning."
"Will they believe it mon Colonel?"
"We'll have to make sure they do, LeBeau. Newkirk toss the cigarette, we need your help." Hogan led the way up ladder taking, Carter from Anderson and Newkirk then placing him in his bunk. Looking down at Carter, Hogan knew this had to eventually happen. So far they'd been lucky with no serious injuries; it was only a matter of time. He had to convince Schultz that Carter was sick, and that shouldn't be too difficult. In the last drop from London there were plenty of chocolate bars. Sometimes he wondered what the people packing his supplies thought of all the chocolate sent his way, and where Schultz thought his candy bars really came from. The Red Cross only sent two bars to each man.
"Colonel, that's all I can do for now." Anderson finished checking the dressing on the side of Carter's head and making sure his patient was comfortable. "Keep him warm and call me if there are any changes. I'll be back before lunch to check on him."
"Thank you. You'd better get back to your barracks before roll call."
"I hope he'll be all right."
"So do I." Hogan replied.
"Message sent sir; London will have a transport plane standing by. They're waiting for an arrival time if needed."
"Colonel, Schultz is coming." The lookout at the door informed them.
"Thanks, places everyone," Men scrambled to their respective bunks, while Newkirk and Hogan stood over Carter.
"Roooollllll call!" Sergeant Schultz bellowed as he entered the barracks. "Colonel Hogan, Newkirk, what are you doing up before roll call?"
"Carter's sick Schultz, he won't be making it out for roll call."
"He was okay last night at roll call. What type of monkey business is this?" Schultz leaned over and looked at Carter. "He's pale and doesn't look so good Colonel Hogan."
"No monkey business, Schultz, just a sick man."
"What made him sick?"
LeBeau shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it was the strudel; he ate the last of it before bed."
"But I had some of the strudel, and I feel fine."
"We don't know what made him sick. He should rest now."
"But what will I tell Kommandant Klink?" Schultz raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"All present and accounted for Carter's here, only this morning he can't make it out to roll call."
"Okay, should the medic see him?"
"I'll make sure he does, Schultzie. Men...let's fall out for roll call." Hogan ordered, steering Schultz outside the barracks with the rest of the men. He stole once last glance at Carter as they exited the building.
