tHogan wasn't sure he had the right place, until he heard a deafening crash and the peals of laughter pouring out of the brightly painted old building. He then heard Newkirk's unmistakable roar…"Evan, Tristan! Will you two bloody fiends knock off dumpin' water on the girls! If Clarrie catches you, she'll have yer 'eads! And mind you stay in the front garden!" Newkirk bellowed after them. Two young boys came flying down the steps past Hogan, laughing like maniacs. The older boy turned quickly and hollered back, "Course, guv! Wot eva' ya say!" They joined several boys in the front garden.
Grinning to himself, Hogan read the sign on the front of the building and, remembering the day it was named, had to laugh. Our Lady of Unsung Heroes Children's Shelter, (Peter and Clarissa Newkirk, Proprietors). The door was once again flung open, and his former corporal was suddenly standing before him, dressed in his familiar blue jeans and blue work shirt, brown pork pie hat jauntily tilted back on his head. To say he was startled to see his former commander was an understatement.
"Cor, guvnor! You gave me a fright! Didn't expect to see you here!" He sighed, checking for the two "fiends" and relaxed when he saw them apparently contentedly playing with the shelter's two dogs. He held up his hand for a moment and hollered over to the boys. "Here, Wolfgang, Wilhelm! You keep an eye on that lot! If they try a scarper, eat 'em!" The boys laughed uproariously at this as the two black labs eyed Newkirk quizzically. Newkirk shook his head with a smile, and then turned back to his friend. He looked over Hogan critically for a moment. "Yer lookin' good, fer a general. They keepin' ya busy then? Come on in."
Hogan smiled, as he followed Newkirk into the building. He noticed Newkirk's limp was still quite severe, and that he still wore the brace on his left leg, although it didn't seem to hamper him much now, even on stairways. He remembered back when they thought the feisty corporal would lose that leg...and how, if it hadn't been for Carter, they would have lost much more…. Hogan shook off the dark thoughts and smiled as Newkirk led him through a mob of kids of all ages, and smiled at a few adults who were struggling to maintain order. There were also some folks there who seemed to be working on remodeling the old building. They continued their conversation as they headed upstairs to Peter's den/office. Hogan answered the question Peter had asked.
"They are. I'm only in London for a couple of weeks, mixing business with some R & R, and then it's off again, back to Washington. I wanted to come by and get a look at this misbegotten shelter we've all been supporting. I have to say I wasn't really surprised when you proposed the idea of wanting to open the shelter here, but I was surprised you had gotten married so quickly after the war. I thought you once told me you were going to look around for a while…that you didn't want to settle down."
As they settled into comfortable chairs in the sparsely furnished room, Newkirk sighed, and as he poured drinks for the two of them, he looked the other man directly in the eye. "Well, Colonel, ya see it's this way…I've actually known Clarissa a long time. We was kids together, y'see. I fell fer her when she was just twelve and I was fourteen. But then me da kicked me out, and I 'ad to work, so I joined the circus and her da sent her off to school. 'e hated me anyway. Allus said I wasn't good enough. 'elluva thing to tell a kid 'innit, guv? So I lost track of her, but I never stopped carin'. And…well, after the war, we both came 'ome, didn't we?" Here, Peter smiled gently.
"We saw no point in waitin' so we up and got married ten days after I came back and—" their conversation was suddenly interrupted as a little girl came bursting into the room, all flaming red hair and green eyes dancing as she bounced into her father's lap. "FireBall!" Peter threw her joyously into the air and caught her. She giggled and then smoothed the bomber jacket down over her cargo khakis. The flight cap was reminiscent of Carter's in miniature, as was the jacket. She turned to the dark-haired stranger sitting in her favorite chair. "Who are you? Are you from me da's old unit?" She climbed down from her father's lap and studied Hogan closely. She leaned in, and suddenly turned to chide her father. "Da, where's your manners? You didn't take his coat for him!"
Hogan was taken aback by the child, who looked about seven or so. If not for the red hair, she would be the spitting image of Newkirk. He remembered his namesake as barely a toddler. Out of habit, when she asked him to stand up so she could take his coat, he did so graciously, completely missing the look on Peter's face.
When the girl came back a few minutes later, she walked over to Hogan in his chair. "Can you lean over a minute? I 'ave a secret!" And when Hogan did, the girl grinned, and pulled a coin out of his ear and handed it to him. She pulled her well-worn deck of cards out of her jacket pocket and began to expertly shuffle them. "Do you play poker?"
Newkirk laughed when Hogan nearly choked on his drink. "Okay, FireBall. That's enough."
As the girl nodded and started to leave the room, Newkirk cleared his throat meaningfully. She came back over to Hogan sheepishly and began pulling things out of her pockets and handing them to the stunned General. His wristwatch, his wallet, and a sheaf papers, his passport, and even his cigarettes and lighter… only a couple of the items had been in his coat. The rest were in his clothing, and she had frisked him like an expert! Dear God, help us all!
As Hogan was trying to think of what to say, the study door opened, and a beautiful redhead leaned into the doorway. "Ah hah, young lady! I thought I would find you up here…It's nearly time for tea."
"Aww, Mum…"
Newkirk's demeanor changed as his eyebrow arched and he looked sternly at his daughter. "Robbi."
Immediately, the girl straightened up, stood at attention, and saluted her father smartly, who simply rolled his eyes and shooed the girl out of the room with a bit of a salute, and an exasperated glance at her mother. A few moments later, they heard a commotion downstairs as Robbi met one of the boys and a scuffle broke out.
Clarrie laughed at her husband. "Don't look at me, Peter Newkirk…YOU created that little hellion! You and all your bedtime stories. That and teaching her all your little tricks…"
"Yeah, but 'ow was I to know she'd take it all so seriously?! Blimey, she's turned into another me a lot younger than I did meself! "Course, 'er Uncle Andrew fittin' 'er out with that bomber kit for 'er birthday didn't 'elp a bloody thing!"
Hogan raised his eyebrows, amused. "Carter did that?" "Yeah, 'e did. Took 'er off to 'is tailor, 'e said, and got 'er all fixed up. They was gone all day. 'e came back gigglin' with 'er like a kid 'imself. Later I asked 'er what the tailor looked like, and she told me t'was a military secret, but 'e was not much taller than 'er and spoke French!" He laughed then. "Guess LeBeau 'adn't been able to stay in town fer long, but 'e and Carter cooked up this surprise for 'er, and they just needed to do the final fittin', and alterations."
Hogan shook his head as he thought again about all his men, and the years since their release from Stalag 13. It didn't seem possible that it had been nearly eight years. They had all promised each other they would stay in touch, but life had a way of getting in the way, and they hadn't seen each other very often. They had of course exchanged letters and the occasional phone call.
They had seen each other for weddings and once a reunion in London, when Hogan had been awarded his third star seven years ago. That event had coincided with Peter and Clarrie sharing their dream with the Unsung Heroes regarding opening a children's shelter in war-torn Stepney. Though there had been some rebuilding, there was still much to be done, and many orphans still needed shelter. It would be a long time before London would overcome the effects of the war.
All of the men had been enthusiastic about the idea, and had chipped in some of their military back-pay towards the project. The shelter, (mostly because the Heroes figured that anything named Our Lady would have an immediate in with the powers [or Powers] that be) was immediately christened "Our Lady of Unsung Heroes." Hogan remembered how, as usual, Carter, with his simple wisdom, had summed up everyone's feelings: "After being around so much death, who wouldn't want to help kids live?"
Hogan realized it was getting late and so he took his leave of the cheerful chaos inside the shelter. The children were being lined up to wash for tea, and Clarrie was getting ready to head the troops into the large dining room. The dogs had headed to their cozy houses for the night. Hogan smiled as he watched the droopy heads—"Wolfgang" and "Wilhelm"—only Newkirk!
Speaking of his formal corporal, the man came down the steps behind him, and lit a cigarette. Hogan joined him, and they sat on the steps and smoked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Eventually, Newkirk spoke. "Do ye remember what Carter said that day, Colonel? About 'elpin' the kids?"
"I've never forgotten."
"This ol' building may not be much, but we seem to just keep makin' do. Carter's been a Godsend. He pops in every once in a while. Not only has he 'elped with the renovations, but he's sent some of the older orphans to school. Started a scholarship fund, 'e did! Kinch basically rewired the entire building. LeBeau, Olsen, Baker, Foster, all the guys have been by at some time or another, just because they want to be a part of it…not just contributing money. And that doesn't even cover half what you—"
Hogan cut Newkirk off with a sharp wave of his hand, a look of annoyance on his face. "This is a great place, and you guys are doing a great job."
Newkirk smiled, understanding his C.O. perfectly. He looked over at Hogan. He hauled himself painfully to his feet. Hogan silently looked up at him, the old memories threatening for a moment. Then his corporal's grin flashed, and it suddenly seemed as if ten years dropped away, and Hogan saw him not in his workingman's clothes, but in his bright blue RAF uniform, planning some mischief or other.
And as Hogan stood and straightened his own uniform, he looked down, and saw briefly, a beat-up bomber jacket, and felt his old crush cap, not his new, stiff uniform cover. He closed his eyes for a moment, and saw his men…and missed them, for just a few moments.
He opened his eyes, and shook Newkirk's hand. Newkirk grinned, "Thanks, General. It's been a pleasure."
Hogan nodded. "Always."
And as Newkirk made his way back up the steps and into the orphanage, Hogan's eyes fell on the sign one more time.
"Our Lady of Unsung Heroes Children's Shelter" and he heard Carter's voice once again: "…who wouldn't want to help kids live?"
~The End~