Colonel Hogan closed his eyes and basked in the intense heat from the sun. He could smell it baking the leather of his jacket and roasting the surface of his skin. The air around him was still dense with moisture from the last snow storm, but the wind had finally died, the temperature warmed, and for the first time that March it smelled like spring.
Distantly he could hear Carter and Newkirk arguing over the clatter of shovels and picks, LeBeau and Olsen were chittering over a story that involved a woman with very little in the way of reserve. The story had one of the guards leaning in intently, even though the man barely spoke ten words of English.
Hogan smirked knowing that LeBeau's hand motions were likely to be enough to properly tell that story.
A low chuckle sounded near the colonel's shoulder. "It is good to see you smiling again, Colonel Hogan." Schultz said amiably, sidling up to the open truck cab where Hogan had chosen to station himself.
The American colonel took a deep breath and opened his eyes, wincing at the stab of light that reawakened a not long dormant headache. "Have I not been smiling, Schultz?" Hogan asked lightly, craning his still sore neck to look at the guard. He shifted in the creaking leather seat, repositioning his elevated ankle with a soft grunt, before he looked out over the roadway full of working prisoners and loitering guards.
"It is hard to smile when you have to spend so much time in the cooler. And with a hurt ankle." Schultz commiserated. There was a subtle reprimand in his tone that Hogan smirked at, before closing his eyes once more and soaking up the sun. Schultz sighed, leaning against the truck. "But the sun is shining, the weather is warm. There has been no more monkey business."
The guard fell silent for a moment, shifting through his pockets before he found his watch and declared, "And…it is almost lunch time."
That got a short laugh from the colonel, but he kept his eyes shut. "All is right with the world, eh Schultz?"
"Alles in ordnung." The guard confirmed, coming unconsciously to attention and raising his chin proudly.
"No Gestapo to worry about."
"Oh…thank heavens for that." Schultz laughed in agreement.
"No Colonel Klink hanging over your shoulder."
"I am grateful for that too."
"And nobody trying to escape through that gap in the tree line." Hogan muttered, absently, pointing in the direction of said gap without opening his eyes.
"And nobody trying to escape through that-" Schultz cut himself off, the words catching up with his brain and his eyes at the same time. He caught a flash of red scarf and brown wool seconds before the little Frenchman disappeared from view.
"LeBeau! Where are you-!" With a jump and shout Schultz took off after the little Frenchman, redirecting two of the remaining three guards to go with him.
While the fourth watched the commotion curiously, Carter and Kinch scrambled to the truck, each taking a position on either side of the colonel and helping the man to hop, hobble and scramble the fifty-yards to the ditch leading down to a tiny stream on the opposite side of the road.
With spring melt the stream was a little less tiny, but easily crossed. The three men scrambled into the woods with diminished grace, disappearing completely from sight as quickly as possible. By the time Schultz returned with the wriggling Frenchman shouting feisty epitaphs in his native language, his heart dropped at the sight of the empty truck seat.
"Oh no…not again, Colonel Hogan." Schultz whined, then turned on LeBeau angrily. "What happened? Where did he go?"
"Where did who go, Schultzie?" Newkirk chimed in, coming up to stand behind the Frenchman.
"Colonel Hogan…" Schultz demanded, then started counting heads and added, "Kinchloe! And Carter!"
Newkirk and LeBeau looked around themselves in bewilderment.
"Hey, has anybody seen the colonel?" LeBeau asked loudly, prompting a chorus of responses that ranged from surprise to earnest concern.
As the men started searching in the trucks, under rocks, and through their pockets, Newkirk scanned the tree line intently sidling up beside Schultz. "Well he couldn't have gone far with his bum ankle, could he?" The Englander remarked. "Maybe he's just gone to the upper."
"In the middle of an escape?" The big guard demanded, one eye closing enough that it looked like the other might pop out of his skull.
"Escape? What escape?" LeBeau asked facetiously.
"YOU were trying to escape. I saw you."
"Me!? I would never escape. I was just hunting for mushrooms."
"You are not supposed to be hunting for mushrooms. You are not here to be hunting for mushrooms. You are here to fix the road." Schultz reprimanded then barked, "Now where did they go?"
"They'll be right back, Schultzie, they've just gone to retrieve somethin'."
"Yes, don't worry. They'll be back in time for roll call."
"What?"
"Colonel has to get his rest after all, it's been a hard couple of days." Newkirk said, his tone implying that he was trying to be comforting. The words weren't quite doing the job however.
"Oui, and when he gets back I will use these mushrooms to make him a nice, soothing soup." LeBeau said, patting a pocket.
Schultz was starting to vibrate, and his face was growing red; a shade that Newkirk was certain he'd never seen on the guard before.
"Schultz?" Newkirk prompted, sending an earnestly concerned look to his fellow conspirator, before he jolted at the sound of the giant guard exploding.
"I have had it with your monkey business!" Schultz screamed before he stepped back far enough to point his gun at the two prisoners closest to him. The fact that it wasn't loaded seemed not to register as the man continued to yell. "Get into the truck! All of you!"
"Schultz, calm-"
"SCHNELL!" Schultz screamed, his voice breaking as the pitch exceeded anything Newkirk had heard him reach before. "Get into the truck…and any monkey business…and I will SHOOT….to…"
"Schultz?" LeBeau ventured, stepping closer to the big man as his words and movements ground to a halt. He was staring awkwardly at the ground, the aim of his rifle falling as he leaned forward. The German guard's face had grown ashen, his eyes wide open in silent shock.
"I think we broke him…" Newkirk muttered, in awe up until Schultz started to list toward the ground. The awe turned to concern and Newkirk rushed in where angels wouldn't dare, shouting for help.
In moments the falling guard was surrounded by enough prisoners and soldiers to be lifted into the back of the truck. Ignoring the protest of one of the guards Newkirk stepped up into the back and knelt beside the sergeant of the guard tearing at the top buttons of his coat, then his shirt, desperately fighting his way to the skin on the big man's throat. He felt for a pulse, deliberately avoiding Schultz's gaping open eyes.
"Was is los..?" One of the guards was demanding, struggling to see around Newkirk's hunched form.
"You bleedin' idiot, get in the front and drive." Newkirk shouted over his shoulder, hearing the words repeated in LeBeau's German. He recognized the word "krankenhaus" and "schnell", but the rest was lost to his subconscious until the truck vibrated to life and LeBeau's knees dropped into view near Schultz's head.
Newkirk's hands were shaking so hard he couldn't tell if the faint beat he felt was from his own heart or the German's. He shook his head, but kept his fingers resting lightly against the clammy skin bracing against the jostling of the road.
"Is he alive, Newkirk?" LeBeau asked, anxiously, not bothering to analyze why he cared, or if he should care.
"I c…I can't tell.." Newkirk shook his head, then was tossed to the side as the truck hit a crater, one of the many that they had been ordered that morning to repair. Banged about, Newkirk rocked back to his knees and clung to the side of the truck shouting an angry curse at the driver that he was sure the panicked Kraut wouldn't hear.
LeBeau had managed to brace himself before the jolt and was pressing his ear against the German's chest, his expression not providing much in the way of hope. Newkirk watched, feeling his stomach drop, before he was tossed back towards the guard by another nasty bump.
The truck rocked dangerously, two of the wheels rising off the ground a few inches before the other two climbed out of the rut and the truck again rested on all four. This time he couldn't control his descent and Newkirk landed with his elbow and torso slamming into Schultz's chest. LeBeau just barely got out of the way in time to avoid being crushed.
The Frenchman did manage to force an arm under Schultz's limp head when it rose, and winced as the big man's cranium slammed against his forearm on the way back down. A second later a heavy wheeze escaped the man's throat and his eyes bulged further open before snapping shut. Picking himself up, Newkirk scrambled to find a pulse again, and this time located an erratic but powerful beat.
LeBeau watched as the big man's chest rose and fell, hitching halfway through the breath before he exhaled, then inhaled again.
"He's alive…" Newkirk muttered, gasping for breath himself, as if the effort of his lungs could provide the oxygen Schultz needed. LeBeau collapsed back onto his butt, then braced against the wall with an out flung hand, unable to take his eyes off the big man's rising and falling chest.
"Let's hope he stays that way…" LeBeau muttered before his gaze met the Englishman's.