A/N: This story includes my OC of Underground agent Bluebird (a 2011 Papa Bear nominee for Best Original Character) in a supporting role. For those who haven't read my earlier work, Bluebird is a non-girlie-girl working with Hogan's operation who thinks of herself as just one of the boys, as do the POWs. For those who've already read my previous story, hopefully you will enjoy hearing a little more from her.

September 1942

There was about to be one less railroad bridge in Germany.

"Hurry up, Carter!" Newkirk urged. The darkness of the woods and the stillness of the night weren't doing a thing for his buzzing nerves; it was bloody dangerous out there and it didn't do to let one's guard down for a moment. His eyes swept the woods every few seconds, alert for any possible threat. A light snow had fallen earlier in the evening, just enough to show their footprints, and to make kneeling to do the job distinctly unpleasant.

Beside him, Carter stripped an inch of insulation from the ends of the two wires with his teeth. "I'm doing the best I can!" He then began to twist the bare ends around the two terminals on the plunger. "Haste makes waste, y'know."

"I'll remind 'em of that when they stand us up against the wall and start tyin' the blindfolds on!" A sudden sound from nearby made Newkirk spin sharply forty-five degrees to his right, and his finger tightened minutely on the trigger of his pistol.

"You might want to keep your voice down," Carter reminded him.

"Oh, thank you very much."

A nearby birdcall, which wasn't a real birdcall, was followed by Kinch's subdued whisper coming from behind a nearby thicket of scrub brush. "He's right, Newkirk; put a sock in it! They can hear you in town!"

The Englishman lowered his gun, more relieved than he cared to admit, then Kinch and Bluebird joined them in the clearing, both of them dressed head to toe in black, exactly as Newkirk and Carter were. "Well, it's about time... where've you two been?"

"We eloped," the female Underground agent replied. "Where do you think we were?"

"We've got the charge on the northbound span of the bridge set to blow," Kinch reported. "And here the two of you are still horsing around... can we finish this tonight, you think?"

"Gimme another two minutes," Carter said.

"Another two minutes and you'll be on overtime. We've gotta get outta here!"

"You go ahead; we'll catch up."

Kinch frowned. "I don't like the sound of that."

"That makes two of us," Newkirk added.

"I just need two minutes," Carter repeated, still fiddling with the wires on the plunger assembly. "Then you two blow your half of the bridge and we'll blow ours, and we'll meet you back at the tunnel entrance."

The sudden grinding of a truck engine in low gear made them all stop bickering and hunker down in the bushes even lower. Then came a flash of headlights, and the rattle of tires crossing the crude gravel road bed that ran parallel to the railroad tracks.

"There goes that patrol again," Kinch said. "They know something's up."

"My blood pressure," Newkirk nodded. "I coulda told you that before."

"Carter, you might not have two minutes. That patrol's awful close."

The ends of the wire slipped from Carter's unsteady fingers. "I need it, okay?" He took a deep breath, licked his parched lips and tried again to make the necessary connection to the terminals. "And I might as well tell you right now that I don't work all that well under stress... you know…?"

"Yeah, yeah, all right." Kinch glanced at Bluebird, waiting at his elbow and apparently trying to hurry Carter along by sheer force of her will. "What do you think?"

"Isn't it supposed to be all for one and one for all?"

"That was for three musketeers... there are four of us."

"Go on," Newkirk told them directly. "We'll be two minutes behind you; Bob's yer uncle."

"Okay," Kinch nodded reluctantly. "We'll hold you to that." He gestured for Bluebird to precede him, and the two of them moved off into the dark forest.

Newkirk briefly considered swapping places with Carter to deal with the wires himself. Andrew knew his stuff when it came to explosives, there was no doubt about that, but once he allowed nerves to trip him up a little bit it was often all downhill from there. The question was, was a man with shaky hands better off with dynamite in them, or a loaded gun? More than likely, the best idea would have been to let Carter go back to the north span with Bluebird and keep Kinch here to finish the rigging on this side. Too late now.

"Aw, shucks…" Carter muttered under his breath.

Newkirk felt his teeth clench of their own accord. "Carter…" barely made it out of one corner of his mouth.

"I'll get it, I'll get it…"

"I'm worried we're both gonna get it!"

oo O oo

The periscope concealed in the rain barrel just outside Barracks 2 provided a direct line of sight to the front gate, a few dozen feet of barbed-wire fence on either side, and the road just beyond it. LeBeau had been keeping a lookout for the past hour, ever since dusk had fallen, off and on… off when the searchlights passed over the barrel or when one of the guards walked by, but on the rest of the time. There had been a lot of unusual activity over by the main gate on the other side of the fence since late that afternoon, but since the prisoners had been confined to the barracks for the past twenty-four hours they had been unable to get a closer look.

"Anything?" Colonel Hogan asked from the doorway of his private quarters.

"Non, Colonel." The corporal kept his eyes to the lenses concealed in the twin faucets as he spoke. "I can see a lot of motion out there but there isn't enough light to make out the details. A half-dozen at least… maybe as many as ten men. But I can't see what they're doing."

"Having them out there in the first place is bad enough; having them out there when we've got two teams trying to get back in is about as bad as it gets."

"You think we should have waited to blow up the Reismacher Bridge?"

Hogan shook his head. "The munitions train due through that pass later on is too important a target; we had to take the chance. But we may have to lie low for a while after tonight… at least until we can figure out what it is they're doing out there by the wire."

"Maybe Klink knows something."

Hogan couldn't resist a smirk. "You just used the words 'Klink' and 'knows something' in the same sentence. Whose side are you on?"

The muffled tapping sound signifying that someone down below in the tunnel was requesting permission to come up had their undivided attention right away. Hogan crossed the barracks and hit the hidden panel on the rail with the heel of his hand; the lower bunk lifted and the ladder descended with the familiar creak of pulleys and wires. In seconds Kinch was stepping over the rail and onto the barracks floor, with Bluebird directly behind him.

"How'd it go?" Hogan was never sure why he asked things like that; he knew he was about to get a report anyway.

This time, though, Kinch looked unsure how to start. "Well… nothing that doesn't have wings is gonna be crossing that river headed northbound anytime real soon."

"What about southbound? Where are Carter and Newkirk?"

"They're not back yet?" The usually calm and collected staff sergeant was looking a little worried. Hogan didn't like that look on anybody who was one of the 'good guys', but particularly not on Kinch.

"So where are they?" LeBeau joined the conversation.

"Me and Bluebird evaded a patrol in the woods and got our half of the operation rigged to blow. When we checked in with those two, Carter said he needed two more minutes…"

"…but we never heard the other half of the bridge go up after we set ours off," Bluebird finished. "We were hoping Carter and Newkirk would be here."

"Well, they're not," Hogan said, albeit unnecessarily; they could seethat, and LeBeau had just confirmed it as well. "What kind of patrol? Wehrmacht, Gestapo?"

"We didn't get a close enough look."

Hogan folded his arms and set his mouth in a firm, hard line. "Well, it looks like Newkirk and Carter did."