One hour later, all was quiet in camp. Hogan lay in his bed, carefully listening to the sounds outside the barracks. So far, nothing beyond the usual. He looked at his watch. By now, everyone should have had the chance to get back to their bunks. What's taking so l—
Even though Hogan was expecting it, it still made him jump and shot adrenaline through him. Carter had a good scream. He just hoped it wasn't genuine. He shot out of bed and into the barracks. After telling everyone to calm down and stay put, he left, heading straight for the mess hall and the commotion of guards now arriving there. He pushed through, shouting, "Hey! What's going on?" until he made it to Carter. He had to admit, the young man had done a good job of setting the scene.
There was Carter, sprawled on the floor with a full leg of ham thrown to one side, a bottle of cooking oil tipped over, and Carter's jacket on the floor, looking like he had just used it to put out a fire. Schultz was trying to get him up while Carter was protesting "How was I supposed to know your cook keeps the pilot light on?"
Klink was not far behind Hogan. "What is this?" he demanded.
Hogan, Carter, and Schultz all spoke at once.
"What? Fire? Stop! One person at a time!" It settled down. "Schultz, report!" he ordered.
"Well, kommandant, I was marching, on guard duty, when I heard a scream and things falling and I ran into the kitchen and saw Carter." He gave Carter a reproving look. "He must have been stealing food because he is not allowed out of barracks at night!"
"We can see that Schultz, the ham is right next to him! And that ham took a lot of bargaining to get! Oh this man is getting cooler time!"
"Kommandant, you can't blame him!" Hogan broke in. "I mean, have you seen the food we get?" Hogan knelt down to check on Carter. "What's all this oil?"
"I put out a fire. The cooking oil fell and the stove's pilot light was on." He groaned, and favored his knee and hands. Hogan held them to the light. "You got burned?" He looked up at Klink, aghast. "He put out a fire at immense danger to himself!"
"The fire that he started! That was purely self-defense. He was caught stealing, and he will get sixty days!"
"Aw come on, kommandant. Have a heart. Thirty days. Infirmary, not cooler."
Carter did his best to look pitiful. Klink relented. "Five days in the infirmary, thirty five in the cooler."
"Thirty."
"Twenty, and that is my final offer!"
"Deal." Hogan moved to Carter's side. "Come on, Carter. You've got twenty days in the infirmary to heal."
"Don't twist my words, Hogan! I said five in the infirmary!"
"And the rest of the twenty in the cooler, that's right, sir."
"Yes, that's right," said Klink, looking only a tad confused. "Schultz!" Klink turned around, looking for his sergeant of the guard. He had the ham in his arms and was chewing happily. "Schultz!"
Schultz's eyes popped. "I-I was putting it back. Back where it belongs so nobody can steal it!" He shot an accusatory look at Carter to cover his own disobedience.
"Nevermind, Schultz! Escort them to the infirmary!"
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" He saluted, causing the ham to drop. Hogan grabbed his arm before he could pick it up and walked Carter and Schultz out of the kitchen.
Klink shook his head, ordered a few of the guards to clean up the mess, and made his way back to his quarters. He spent the short rest of the night before roll call wondering exactly how the man's sentence had gone from sixty days to twenty. He must be getting soft.
~~HH~~
Hogan finally got Schultz to quit bemoaning the lost ham and help him carry Carter as they made their way to the infirmary.
"Okay, Colonel Hogan," he agreed, then spoke to Carter, "But why would you steal food? The cockroach even lives in your barracks."
"I was gonna share," Carter said innocently.
"Oh. Then that is okay," Schultz said smilingly. Before they got to the door, it opened for them.
"'oo screamed?"
"Where's André?"
"Did we get the dump?"
"Hold it!" Hogan quieted. "Carter, here, and no."
"Dump?" Schultz's eyes had gone wide.
"You'd better go, Schultz. We've got it from here." Schultz nodded and left as quickly as he could. "Help me get him inside," Hogan said.
Newkirk took Schultz's place and LeBeau went to pull the sheets back on one of the empty beds. "What 'appened there, mate? You get 'urt?"
"It's a long story," Carter sighed.
"One you've got the rest of the night to tell," said Hogan. "Enjoy your last night with pillows, boys. Tomorrow morning you will be miraculously healed. "
"Why?" asked Newkirk.
"How does he know that?" LeBeau wondered in mock amazement.
"Wilson needs to focus on Carter, not keeping up a charade for you two. And we still have a munitions dump to blow up. I need you back in barracks."
Newkirk pouted. "Fine. I just 'ope me pneumonia doesn't come back to strike me a death-dealing blow," he said dramatically. LeBeau cuffed him on the back of the head.
"So get some sleep. All of you, and that's an order. Wilson will be here in a few minutes to re-bandage Carter. I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight, Colonel."
"'Night, Guv."
"Bonne nuit, mon Colonel."
~~HH~~
Hogan stood in line at roll call next to his two yawning companions. It looked like they had stayed up the rest of the night until Shultz came to check on them and found them well enough for roll call. They better not have kept Carter up. Hogan was feeling bad for having sent him out on his own, and he wanted Carter to have plenty of rest. Some may call him sentimental, but when it came to his men, he had just as much of a mother-henning steak as Newkirk (though the Brit would never admit to it).
Klink was explaining what happened the night before to the compound at large, saying that the man in question had gotten very strict punishment, though he didn't mention what that punishment was exactly.
Hogan tactfully hid his yawn behind his hand. He had stayed up all night. Once he had gotten back to barracks, Kinch had told him what London radioed. "Priority on that dump went up, that's all. And the Underground is busy. They can't help."
Hogan had spent the rest of the night trying to sleep while his brain decided it was time to figure out how to blow that dump when security was through the roof and with no help from the Underground or bombers. It had been an unproductive night.
Hogan lowered his hand, which uncovered his view of a staff car at the gates. This was an unplanned visit. Or a surprise visit. Hochstetter? Nope. Not Gestapo. Hogan watched the car carefully, trying to get a hint of who was inside. As it drove into the gates it got just close enough for him to make out a mound of furs in the back...
~~HH~~
Carter looked up as the cooler door opened. Shultz walked in with Hogan. Before the door shut, he thought he could hear a Russian voice saying, "—later, darling!" Shultz closed the door behind them.
"What's up, fellas?" Carter asked. Hogan didn't respond. He was rubbing his temples. Shultz didn't respond. He just gave a guess-who-drank-the-last-of-the-milk look and opened Carter's cell door. Hogan stepped in. Shultz left.
"Colonel? Did– did you just get put in the cooler?"
Hogan sighed wearily. He inhaled. He nodded.
"How? Why?"
He sighed again. "I don't really want to talk about it. But if Newkirk and Kinch don't hurry up, we're not getting out for a long time."
"What about LeBeau?"
"I couldn't trust him on mission. I think he's making her dessert."
Carter pressed for more but didn't get anything.
"You don't need to worry about it. You're stuck in here anyway."
"But—"
"Trust me. You don't want to worry about it." They fell silent.
"So what are we going to do?"
Hogan finally met Carter's gaze. "Carter, my boy, I'm going to use this time to my best advantage. I really need some sleep." Hogan stood and walked to the other side of the cell. He took off his jacket and began balling it up as a pillow.
"Oh. Colonel, you can use the cot. I'm not sleeping."
"No, you need to keep that leg elevated."
"Well, if you let me use your jacket I can do that on the floor. You take the cot."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. You do look like you need sleep."
"Thanks, Carter."
Hogan came over and helped Carter off the cot and onto the floor. He set him against the wall so he could sit up, and rolled his jacket up tight, placing it under Carter's ankle. "How's that?"
"Good," Carter said.
"How about your burns? Have you checked them?"
"Not since Wilson bandaged them yesterday."
"Let's make sure you don't have infection, eh?"
"Okay."
With Carter's hands out of action, Hogan rolled up his pant leg. They'd gotten him a size bigger so they'd be able to pull it up past his knee. Hogan carefully undid the bandage. The wound made him cringe every time he saw it, but he was pleased to see progress since last he'd looked, and no sign of infection. "Looking good, my friend." Carter hm'd and Hogan wrapped it securely back up. Carter flinched.
"I'm sorry. Did I—"
"It's okay. I don't think it was you."
Hogan grunted unhappily to himself. That was just what was bothering him. It was his fault.
They checked his hands next, which looked terrible as well, still red and blistered, but an awful lot better than his knee. Carter got a chance to gingerly flex his fingers before Hogan wrapped them back up again, more gently this time.
"Your chest?" he asked.
"Wilson said those burns are all healed up now. They weren't as bad."
"I'm glad." Hogan put his hand on Carter's shoulder. "Now your job is to focus on healing up." He took a deep breath. "Mine is to take care of the dump and the crazy Russian."
"After you take a nap."
"You got that right." Hogan went to the cot, lay down, and put his cap on his stomach. "Goodnight, Carter."
"Um, night, Colonel."
Carter sat on the floor for the next few minutes, counting bricks, stretching his toes, and staring intensely at the loose thread on his jacket, wishing he could fiddle with it. Soon, Hogan's deep breathing caught his attention. He looked over at his commander, who was now fast asleep. Without his reassuring smile, it was easy to see the worry-lines in his face. Carter sighed. He really was worn thin. Gosh, Marya was hard enough to deal with. Having to get a munitions dump blown up too, using just Newkirk and Kinch now that Carter, LeBeau, and now Hogan were out of action... Carter couldn't imagine it. He felt pretty bad about flubbing up. He had to make it up to the Colonel. Maybe he'd be well enough by the time they got to actually blowing the thing that he could make the bomb right this time.
Without knowing it, he too ended up falling asleep.
