A/N: The title of the story will become clear as the story unfolds. One person thought maybe LeBeau was going to poison the culprits, good guess, but sorry that's not it.
Hogan and Langenscheidt looked at each other in surprise at Klink's slamming of the door. Hogan grabbed the door handle so hard that it nearly broke as he barged into Klink's office without knocking. "Colonel Klink, there's been an accident resulting in several injuries."
Klink stood up from his desk, face red with anger, pointing his arm straight out, "Get ou…," he stopped in mid-word; realization sinking in on what Hogan had said. "What happened?" his body language changing instantly.
"An accident at the woodpile, nearly half of the wood fell. Several men are injured. Sergeant Olsen is seriously hurt, and he needs a doctor immediately," Hogan said.
"How do I know this isn't a tactic to get someone out of camp in an escape attempt?" Klink demanded. Olsen was chronically trying to escape.
"It's true, Herr Kommandant. I was there supervising when it happened. The men were stacking the wood the prisoners cut earlier this week. Without warning, the wood tumbled down upon them," Langenscheidt said.
"Where are they?"
"Four are in the infirmary and Sergeant Olsen is in our hut," Hogan answered following the Kommandant out of his office.
"Why is he in the barracks?" Klink asked as they made their way to Barracks Two.
"Due to the severity of his injuries, Wilson wanted him somewhere that wasn't as chaotic as the infirmary would be," Hogan lied, hoping Klink believed him. He really had no other card to play. Klink didn't respond as they entered the barracks. Several men were standing around in the main room obviously concerned for their fellow soldier. Hogan recognized three of the special blood donors, all with type O negative blood, including Private Mason.
"There are too many people in here," Klink said entering the building. "Unless you live here, leave." Nobody moved, instead all looked to Hogan for direction.
"You heard the Kommandant, clear the hut," Hogan ordered as he led Klink into his private quarters. He knew the blood donors would be right outside the door in case they were needed in a hurry.
Olsen lay on the lower bunk, his left arm wrapped in bandages with blood splatters showing through, still way too pale and his breathing too shallow for Hogan's liking.
"How did this happen?" Klink gasped as he took in the young man's condition. Olsen appeared to be at death's door.
"He was on the bottom of the pile of fallen wood with other men on top of him," Hogan explained.
"We'll take him to the hospital immediately," Klink declared then turned towards Langenscheidt to give his orders. "No, sir!" he heard then looked back to the medic questioningly.
"He's too critical. Moving him will kill him. He's lost too much blood and a ride into town would be more than he could handle. A doctor coming out here would be best, sir. Please," Wilson implored.
"All right, I'll contact Doctor Möller and ask him to come out," Klink said. He was worried enough about losing the prisoner, and didn't want to do anything that might aid in his demise.
"Sir, Doctor Möller is sometimes rough with the men. I think he's a little afraid to be in camp," Wilson reminded him.
Klink remembered how the doctor had seemed less than compassionate on the few times he'd come to camp. Sometimes he'd even refused to come out.
"What about the doctor who came out a few months ago, do you remember his name? He was really good and didn't seem to mind working out here," Hogan asked leading Klink down the intended path.
"I believe his name was Doctor Prust, and he was very good with the men," Wilson said.
"Very well, I'll try to reach Doctor Prust, but if I can't then it'll have to be Doctor Möller. I want to see where this happened and the rest of the injured so I can give the doctor all the information he needs." They left the hut, going directly to the infirmary. The four patients were still being treated and the Kommandant took a moment to check on their conditions. Klink winced at the bruise forming on and around Sergeant McMahon's nose and cheek. Next, they inspected the woodpile where an impressively large amount of blood had appeared on the ground. Hogan would find out who was responsible later, but he thought it was a good move.
An hour later, Doctor Michael Prust drove into Stalag 13 with a trunk full of medical supplies glad Kinch had warned him what to expect. He pulled up in front of the Kommandantur, where Klink came out to meet him. The Colonel ordered the guard to take the box over for the doctor and to remain with him at all times.
"Please place the supplies on the table and you can wait outside, Corporal," Prust ordered as they entered the hut.
"But…the…Kommandant ordered me to stay with you," Langenscheidt stuttered, looking from Prust to Hogan quickly recognizing this wasn't a battle he was going to win. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."
"So, Robert what happened?" Prust asked as soon as the door closed.
"We don't know. Olsen left on a normal recon mission and about three hours later he barely made it back to camp," Hogan led him to the small room so the doctor could start his exam.
Prust ordered everyone except Wilson out of the room and closed the door. Sometime later, both men came out of the room looking grim. "He's in rough shape. I might have an idea of what happened to him. And for several reasons, it's vital that Klink continues to think this happened in camp."
"What do you mean?" Hogan asked as Prust and Wilson took a seat at the table. LeBeau handed each a cup of coffee.
"About three weeks ago, I saw the first case of what I believe is medical experimentation on the general population. I have no idea who is behind the atrocities. Men and women have been taken with no discrimination in age or occupation. Bluebird even had a man disappear out of his patrol, whom they searched for with no luck. Nearly six hours later they found the man, dead, near the area he'd disappeared. Bluebird swore that he'd personally searched the area three times where the man was found," Prust explained taking a drink from his cup.
"What happened to him?" Carter asked.
"They brought him to the hospital, where I performed an autopsy. Or at least I started to," Prust stopped, his eyes cast downward, after a moment he continued. "The first thing I noticed as I opened him up was something had happened to his blood. It was no longer liquid but more the consistency of sand. Nothing in nature can do that to a man; obviously, I was dealing with the aftermath of some type of vile experiment. Out of concern of unleashing an unknown toxin, I had the body cremated. He was the third. I believe Olsen is the eighth," Prust looked across the table at Hogan.
"Mon Dieu! Who would do such a thing?" LeBeau gasped, his hand covering his mouth.
"What have you been able to find out?" Hogan asked, deep concern showing in his eyes.
"Not much. Bluebird has been looking into it, but even he and Hochstetter have come up empty handed. Shortly after the fourth victim, Hochstetter ordered that all the bodies and any future ones be burned. He said the orders came directly from Berlin." With a pained look, he asked, "Do you realize what it would mean if they perfected whatever turned that man's blood to sand? If it could be made into an airborne agent, put in a bomb, then dropped on enemy soldiers in the battlefield, within an hour, ever man would be dead without a single shot fired. Hitler would be unstoppable."
Hogan ran a hand over his face taking in a deep breath; he understood exactly what it meant. "Such a chemical would change the face of the war."
"That's why it's vital Klink doesn't connect Olsen with the others. How did you convince him what happened?"
"An unrelated accident in camp occurred about the same time, so it didn't take much to tie the two together," Hogan filled him in on the other injured men. "Speaking of the woodpile accident, where did all the extra blood come from on the ground?"
"Oh, I added pig's blood from the kitchen. Only a few drops of blood from Steven's nosebleed showed, and since we had to ensure Klink believed Olsen's cover story I took care of it," LeBeau explained.
"Good job," Hogan gave him a nod of approval.
"Which begs the question. Why do you faint when you see human blood, but you can be around animal blood in the kitchen?" Newkirk asked.
"I don't know. It doesn't bother me, just a part of being a chef," LeBeau shrugged his shoulders.
"I believe it means he has a tender heart," Prust said.
"I agree," Newkirk answered with a gentle smile then he turned serious again. "Gov'nor, Olsen must have left a blood trail that might lead someone to the tunnels. What should we do about it?"
"At guard change, have some men from another barracks to put on Luftwaffe uniforms and go outside the wire to take care of anything they find," Hogan ordered.
"What about the survivors of the experiments, have any been able to say what happened?" Kinch asked.
"So far, no one has lived more than a few hours, which for them was merciful. None of them regained consciousness. What happened to those people has been some of the most horrid, inhuman experiments," Prust said with a grim look.
"What about Olsen?" Hogan asked with a lump in his throat.
"I don't have a good answer," Prust didn't believe in holding anything back, but these men held a special place in his heart and he wanted to protect them.
"Non! You can't be saying he's going to die!" LeBeau jumped up from the table.
"He's young, strong, and his injuries are not as severe as the others. Only time will tell; it's up to him at this point," Prust answered gently.
"You must to do something. You can't let him die!" LeBeau demanded, distraught over the possibility of losing a friend.
"LeBeau," Hogan gave the Frenchman a warning look even though he was feeling the same emotions. Then, he looked at the doctor. "What are his chances, Michael? Is there anything that would improve those odds?"
"The next twelve hours will tell. We will do everything humanly possible to save him. Even if I took him to the hospital, I don't think it would help. Being here with friends is the best for him. I'll stay in camp until he improves enough for Wilson to be able to handle his injuries," the doctor said.
"I'm going to sit with him," LeBeau declared.
"I think that would be good," Hogan smiled as LeBeau moved to the other room.
"I should update Klink, and explain to him that I will be staying in camp," Prust stood up.
"I'll go with you." Once they were out of hearing range of the men, Hogan asked again. "What are his chances?"
"Right now, I'd say twenty-five to thirty percent. If he makes it through the night, maybe fifty-fifty," Prust responded walking slowly.
Hogan stopped walking and faced his friend, "You don't expect him to make it?"
"No. I'm sorry, but I don't."
Hogan shook his head at the sobering thought. To lose a man so needlessly was a lot to absorb. Anger filled his veins, whoever was responsible for the experiments had to be stopped, before they developed a weapon, which could wipe out an entire army from the sky. Things were worse than he feared when Olsen made it back to camp. He'd have to find out about this new weapon, without any more of his men becoming targets of the Nazis in charge of the experiments. But then another sobering thought occurred to him. If the Gestapo couldn't find out who was responsible, what chance did he have?
