Hey everybody!

I'm terribly nervous posting this!

This idea is the first of many, a series maybe, if I find the time, of (mostly) unrelated oneshots concerning the 'other guys' in Stalag 13, those that are just as committed as Col. Hogan and his core team, but stand so much further from the spotlight... The guys that dig the tunnels, run the diversions, put in the labour, serve the sentences in the cooler... ;-)

I always liked Patty and Marg's vision of the HH-universe... roughly a tousand men in Stalag 13, and Hogan bears the responsibility for them all, all of the prisoners are involved in the operation in some capacity, Klink is a good guy, but it's no fun being a POW... (so far the short version ;-) )
I can't say my vision is based on Patty and Marg's, but they seem similiar. If you haven't read anything from their "Game Universe", go there now! Check out "End Game"! It's brilliant and a ton of fun!

Well, here goes nothing! Let's get started with this little piece! Enjoy!

That Place

I went from pilot to prisoner without ever having committed a crime. And I lost all the wrath I felt about it in a two-minute-conversation with an officer who stood up for what was right.

Of course, during my fifth week at Stalag 13, bad timing mercilessly pulled the rug out from under my feet, and send me into a 5-day-freefall…

Kinchloe in the compound stopped me on my way, as I simply was conveniently there, and then LeBeau in the tunnel pulled me down that ladder, because my foot was conveniently reachable, and then Newkirk… well, he might have been the only one who actually knew what he was doing, but by that time, I guess, it was too late.

**HH**HH****HH**HH**

On my way to morning mess I was stopped and quickly found myself climbing down into the dusty dark to rely Kinch`s quick message to the colonel.

„Stars entered. Winds risen."

The half dozen or so heads around the center table lifted from their work and for a short moment a hush lingered. Their faces bent back down and I was dismissed.

I had my head through the hole in the barracks floor, the sink hinged halfway aside, when someone came rushing by the foot of the ladder from a different direction than I had came from. My foot was patted, the cuff of my pants impatiently tugged at. „Come on down, come along, quick!", the little French man spoke, and no sooner did I have my first foot back on solid (under)ground, was I pushed along a passageway by more than one pair of hands. A package was thrust into my hands. Someone snatched away my cap.

„What-?" What is happening?

„We need you, Charles, quick!"

„Ok…" I suppose… „What-?"

„Someone has to escape, right now!"

„Me?! Why?" What! Why? And also, WHAT!

„Anyone. Come now, quickly now!"

I could only gape dumbly and stumble along the path that all these people pushed and pulled me. We were out of breath, all of us. I can't escape! I mustn't! My cap was suddenly back on my head. I felt a hand inside my pants' pocket for a second, then inside my jacket's pocket. Am I being frisked? My heart beat loudly against my ribs. I barely knew these people! Who's idea is this? This is a bad idea! A tousand questions ran through my mind, none of them reached my tongue. Is this a test?

I had control over my feet now, ran on my own.

A feint ‚Send'm east!' echoed from a distant place and was picked up by the group of men around me.

We reached the end of the tunnel, the foot of the outside ladder. Someone was at the periscope. „All clear."

All of a sudden, Corporal Newkirk was there with the group. He was one of The Four, and I recognized him. His word inside these tunnels equaled any general's orders on their home base. I stared. Didn't know what to think, what to do. Escape, they said. 'No escapes!', that was the rule. Newkirk's hands were on my collar, grabbed the front of my jacket, gave me a rough shake. It felt grounding. „Go out the hatch. Go east. fast as you can, far as you can. Stay away from the guards. Stay away from people! Give us a couple of days. Don't get cought before Friday!"

I still stared. My heart pounded. My head joined in. My thoughts raced. How?

Newkirk had his hands on my collar again. „Got that? Run east! Stay away! Got that?"

No, no, NO!

„Yes, Sir.", I breathed.

Newkirk smiled, not even half an eye twinkling. „Good man!"

A hand landed on my back. I was pushed up the ladder and had my hands on the hatch. I looked back to the group of men below, all of them staring up where I was staring down. „But, how-?"

The whole group immediately turned on me. „Go, go, GO!"

I found myself outside, trees all around me, the hatch closed at my feet.

How do I…? What am I supposed to…? And what do these people…? Outside the wire! I'm not the man for this! Noone ever escapes…

My thoughts came to a crashing halt. One thought rose and I voiced it under the wind: „I know where east is". So I ran.

The End

So, here it is...

I'd be eternally grateful if you let me know what you are thinking! Don't be shy about criticizing! ... I can take it! ;-) (Also, I have never written anything, this piece is unbetad, I am not a native English speaker and I am often very unsure about vocabulary and grammar, so it would reeeally help me a lot if you point out my errors!)

Thank you so much for reading!

And also: WTF: Why doesn't anybody ever talk about how hard it is to come up with a good title! ;-P