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Chapter Three: High Ho, High Ho, It's Off to Blow a Train We Go!

Not that far away, the train whistled as it began to slow to a halt. The great German train carrying ammunition, food, and other supplies plus two Jewish boys approached the foursome. Back at the camp, Kinch and Rachel worked on the radios and phone lines, supplying the Hammelburg train and Gestapo offices with codes and orders, backed by lies that would get them no where once they began their investigation. Here they would plant the bombs and take the boys. Hogan wore the insignia of a major and the rest of his men wore insignia showing subordinate ranks.

"Carter, you sure you got the timers set correctly?" Hogan looked at the youthful, naïve explosive expert. The man had once set bombs and fires off in his school, if it weren't for the war as an outlet for the knowledge in his head, Hogan sometimes thought Carter would be in jail. Carter meant nothing harmful by it, most of the time, he just liked to tinker with chemicals and explosives to see what would happen.

"All set, just pull this," Carter pointed to a little key in one of his explosives, "and they'll go off in half an hour."

"And you're sure the Germans won't find them?" Newkirk asked. "What happens if they find one and throw it out the window?"

Carter frowned, "Well, once the key's been pulled, it can't be stopped. Not unless you know what you're doing anyway. And since I designed it, I'm the only one who knows which wires connect –"

"Carter, just answer the question. How many of these do we need to plant? You've brought over a dozen!"

"Just four, I think," Carter frowned. Newkirk sighed and looked at LeBeau for back up on this, the RAF preferred the guarantee and quick answers which were often provided only by Kinch or LeBeau. Carter took forever to answer a question and it was hard to tell how long it would take Hogan to reply. And given the occasional issues with Carter's explosives, Newkirk wanted to make sure they did the job and they did it right. The main reason they were set to go off that late was to put them further away from Stalag 13. Rachel had commented that Major Hochstetter sent so many requests for new commands at the Stalag and reports of suspicious activity in the area that it made them all a little nervous. If the whole operation was blown, not a single agent in Germany would be safe. The Nazis would gain fast ground that could win the war if the Underground was exposed. To keep that at bay, they had set the timer for longer than originally planned.

LeBeau glanced down the track, the lights of the train were visible now. This train would have happier, more confident soldiers and officers. They weren't headed for the Russian front but for the eastern front. Their death wouldn't be quite as expected. It would be wise to expect resistance and more questions from these officers than they had when they'd sent the orders to the Hammelburg station. The codes were really the only thing that kept them from losing the chance to board the train and inspect it. That and the forged paperwork, correctly filled out and faked with aid from Rachel. She'd provided them with enough information that if anyone dared second guess their orders, they'd be highly concerned that they were dealing with the highest officials of the Gestapo.

It was do or die, really. The four of them against the whole German train. It had been so much easier as a demolition job, but who would refuse to get innocent civilians off of the train? Like any member of the Free France military forces, LeBeau had signed up for this fight, knew the risks. He was ready and willing to die for his country if necessary. The whole lot of them were – even when they suggested they not do a mission out of safety factors, they would do it to the best of their ability. At one point, most of them had faked being a traitor in the eyes of their homelands just to get a message out. When he had to cook a fancy dinner for some German officer Klink wanted to impress, it often took everything LeBeau had not to poison the food or break something.

"The things we are willing to do for a woman," LeBeau muttered in French.

"German only from now on," Hogan reminded him tersely. The train was closer, the light bright in their eyes. Unconsciously, Hogan's hand tightened into a fist at his side. "Remember the plan," he hoped to heaven it would work out without a hitch. Sometimes they went off perfectly, but most of the time there was always something that happened that threw them off guard or changed the plans slightly. A defector, someone who would recognize them - Marya had better not be on this train, Hogan thought with annoyance. If anyone could mess this up completely, it would be the White Russian. She came in with her own plans, secret to only herself, let everyone else know all these important details but never the full picture, always risking the entire operation. No, no one they knew should be onboard the train.

The train whined to a halt, her gears pressing together tightly with an undignified sound. The lights of the train illuminated the darkness a bit and three men stepped out of the train. The four from Stalag 13 saluted in response to the three actual Germans. Hogan handed over the paperwork and nodded that LeBeau, Carter, and Newkirk should proceed. Each one entered a different compartment and began to go through them, pretending to look for bombs. Hogan exchanged another set of papers and two more Germans brought the two boys. They were scrawny and frightened, their eyes wide. The light reflected in their eyes. Neither of them had a warm enough coat and both shivered. Hogan had the urge to give one of them his coat but that wouldn't appear very Nazi-ish.

Back at the Stalag, Rachel and Kinch were in the tunnel, near the radio. Kinch had a pad of paper out and was scribbling down some math problems for fun. Rachel paced around, checking her watch every now and then. "How can you sit there?" She asked him and again checked her watch. The four had only been gone for half an hour and it was a good fifteen-minute drive to the train track. The car they had taken was from the Stalag's motor pool and she had a horrible feeling about it. They could be dressed in all the Nazi uniforms they wanted, have all the necessary paperwork and codes – but there were so many ways it could go wrong. Someone's German could be faulty, someone could – "How can you stand it?"

"I'm used to it. Want a German newspaper? They have a few puzzles in them –" Kinch picked up one and then put it down. "Not that one, it's been solved." And by "solved" he meant someone had drawn obscene doodles all over it. "Here," he had a clean edition and he held it out to her. "The waiting doesn't get any easier but you can at least try to take your mind off of it."

"You do this often?" she accepted the paper and pencil and opened it up to find the puzzles and instead found a few articles about the war effort and a few articles about Hitler. Then she noticed an article about her boss. It included a picture and she took the pencil Kinch had given her to solve the puzzles. One, two, three, she lined up the pencil and how she would have to move her fist – she stabbed the picture.

"Difficulty?" Kinch asked and then was interrupted by the sound of morse code and he began to take the message down. Rachel listened to it as well. He translated it and put it aside. "I can't do a German crossword puzzle very well – lots of references to Mein Kampf, which I've never read."

"Don't bother, it's boring," she'd read it because she'd had to. She even had an autographed copy, a present from her boss. Every decent German citizen had a copy of Hitler's autobiography. "Good news or bad news?" she checked her watch again.

"Neither, just telling us there'll be some bombing activity nearby, so we might want to be on alert for any downed planes." He went back to his papers and she looked at the paper he'd given her. Unfortunately she'd stabbed through it enough that any interesting material was a bit marred. She tossed the paper aside and fidgeted with the pencil instead. "Don't worry, they'll be fine. We've done this sort of thing before."

"Really? And it's completely comfortable for you?"

"No, it isn't – but I have faith in Colonel Hogan." Kinch smiled, thinking of meeting the Colonel for the first time, of the inexplicable plans he put together that seemed impossible and farcical in nature that always worked, and of the knowledge each other hand that would allow them to perfectly pull these escapades off. Even though he couldn't go out with them very often, on the occasions he did, he could see how Hogan was so confident. Not to make himself sound greater than he was, but Hogan's confidence, Kinch figured, came from knowing his men and their dedication to wreaking havoc and destruction on the Third Reich. "I remember once we blew up a bridge and we weren't even there. Had to send a messenger," he grinned widely and Rachel smiled gently, letting him reminisce. "A German messenger," Kinch emphasized so she understood how complex blowing up this bridge was. "Then we rebuilt it and blew it up again." He paused for a few moments and then told her the story of when they stole a tank.

"You guys have such fun missions," Rachel sounded wistful. "The most I do is sle- copy papers and pass on information."

"Oh there have been some of those and they're not fun."

Rachel eyed him suspiciously. Then they laughed together, "They've been fun after, but they're very stressful during."

She checked her watch again. "How long do you think they'll be?"

"Give it some time."

The two boys were escorted to the car and they were placed inside the back. The officers exchanged cigarettes with Hogan while the other three planted the bombs. Carter placed his while pretending to investigate a box containing bags of sugar. LeBeau went through the ammunition and placed one there for good measure. And Newkirk tucked his in the luggage of some soldier while he stole a few boxes of cigarettes, some money, and some bars of chocolate from them. Bribing Schultz meant less candy for the lot of them and Red Cross packages weren't always given.

They were in and out of the train quickly and Carter held up a fake bomb, indicating that the mission was a success and the Germans could go on their way. The officers had a few questions, but the whole job was done quickly in their minds – ignoring the actual time of several hours.

The train started and headed off with the supplies and the Germans. They were only left without the two boys.

Everyone kept with the German only routine until they got into the car and then Hogan smiled. "Good job, men."

"Sir…" the eldest of the two boys spoke quietly. "Where are we going, if I may ask?"

LeBeau turned and grinned, "You're going to Switzerland. We're not Germans! We're friends!"

"Yeah," Newkirk took out a bar of chocolate and held it up. "See? Friends!" He held the bar out towards the boys but neither of them took it despite understanding him since he spoke German. "Not a trick," Newkirk told them, slightly concerned that they weren't automatically reaching for the sweets. They were too thin. Food should have tempted them and it wasn't like the food the Germans gave them would have been any good – if they got food at all. The food from the Germans given to the POWs was not of any good quality and until LeBeau had arrived, Newkirk had lost a considerable amount of weight. Every other soldier had remarked the same. If LeBeau had never shown up with his culinary skills, they would have starved. Had anyone offered him a candy bar then, he would have taken it in a heartbeat.

"Hey, maybe they think we're going to hurt them and that's poisoned!" Carter suggested.

It was a good idea, Newkirk realized, and then he opened the bar up while Hogan told LeBeau to drive on back to camp and the drop off site. The car moved on as Newkirk opened the chocolate bar, took a piece and ate it, smiling the whole time. Finally the boys took it. "What are your names?" Carter asked.

"I'm Jacob," the eldest said. "This is my brother Isaak."

"I'm Andrew Carter –"

"Carter, introductions aren't for now," Hogan told him sternly. With the boys he was warm, "Don't worry, we're here to help you. We're part of the Underground. Just keep quiet if we run into any trouble. Newkirk, radio back to camp and see that everything's set?"

"Right, sir," Newkirk turned to get the radio and Carter set about disassembling the fake bomb. Isaak watched while he slowly chewed the chocolate, as if he wanted to savor it and not that he hadn't eaten in days. Snow White's journey hadn't just been difficult for her, it had been worse for the boys. Radio in hand, Newkirk called the camp.

Kinch and Rachel escorted the Underground agent into the tunnel and he introduced himself, a French agent. Francois was the only name he provided other than his code name of Sea Lion. His arrival helped a bit with the waiting. Rachel poured him some tea and cooked up a small snack for Francois. He and Kinch spoke about the plans and went through the things they'd put together for the trip to Switzerland.

"Are you coming too, Snow White?" Francois preferred code names, that way he could stay out of trouble by thinking of anyone in an unsafe way. "London seemed to imply that you should."

"No, I'm returning to Berlin in two days." She checked her watch while Francois ate. She could hear the thick cockney accent, the soft French, and the home sounding American accent of the men. What if the bombs were discovered? She'd removed papers and told other agents which papers to pull about people the Nazis wanted to learn about or hunt down for suspicions but she had not removed any paperwork about these men. Nothing dangerous had ever been filed on them as far as she knew, but she didn't want to pull anything about them. She didn't want to think for a moment that they would be in danger of being discovered –

If only she knew they were on their way back, a successful mission.

"You sure? I can get you out safely." She barely heard Francois because the ceiling creaked. They all froze in place and Kinch's brows furrowed as he concentrated on the sound. Francois put his hand on his gun, ready to draw it out and shoot if the need arose. None of them wanted it to go to that. The hardest thing that came with espionage was a missing body or a dead one. Even in war, when people were missing in action all the time, a body meant the worst kind of trouble.

Kinch moved closer to the entrance so he could hear better. Rachel stepped forward, ready to yank him back from danger and then the bunk rose up, the ladder dropped, and from the dark barracks above, a prisoner waved. "Just thought you ought to know, Schultz is asleep outside. We're good."

"Thanks," Kinch replied and the bunk went down while the ladder went up. Rachel checked the time and looked at the tunnel exit.

Francois and Kinch started talking about radios and she went through the uniforms. Her fingers traced the lightning bolt symbol on the SS uniforms and like with the paper before, she wanted to damage it. Two lightning bolts – but lightning never strikes the same place twice. The red arm band with the twisted cross and white circle – the symbol they threw around everywhere, as if Hitler had designed it himself. There were other symbols, but she focused on the swastika for the moment. A symbol of life and Germans – but all she'd seen were the deaths. She'd seen the reports, heard many of them talking about the friends they'd lost, joke about the enemies they'd killed.

The two boys were just an idea in her mind, something to put with the yellow stars she'd seen in pictures, in reports, and other filing materials – no more a symbol of this war than the crooked cross.

Carter had his bombs, all he needed was a piece of shrapnel from something he'd exploded.

Hogan would receive medals and he probably had something that would remind him of his successes.

What of her? What would she have to say at the end, to hold up and say she had saved people? She knew only that she had sent information, she wanted a physical way to know that she had done something for the war effort. Her finger on the swastika made her realize then why she'd run to save these boys.

The radio crackled and she looked over to see Kinch answer it. Peter's voice came out of the device and she let out a quiet sigh of relief. Peter simply stated that they were on their way and so far the mission had been successful. They had the two packages. Rachel closed her eyes and then went to check on the challah she'd managed to make from LeBeau's supplies. She wanted them to know that they really were safe from the Germans, that they could be themselves without fear. If it had been the Sabbath, it would have been better but given the resources they had, challah was the only real option.

Francois inhaled deeply and commented that her bread smelled delicious. But as he was not a Jew, he didn't know the significance of the bread.

Kinch moved some of his equipment after acknowledging the message so that she could prominently display the bread and salt that she would say the ritual blessing over. He handed her the bottle of wine and she placed it next to the bread. Again, this was to bring peace to the boys' state of mind and though she really wasn't the one who should be doing all of this, they should be with their families, and it wasn't the proper time, she imagined it was the first time they would be doing this since the war. It certainly was the first time in years she would experience this.

Soon the tunnel opened and two boys descended after Carter, followed by LeBeau, and then Hogan. She didn't see a sign of Peter.

"Welcome," she said to the boys, moving forward to greet them. "Where's Peter – I mean, where's Corporal Newkirk?"

Hogan took off the helmet and began to undo the buttons of his coat. "Returning the car to the motor pool."

Rachel nodded and then turned to the boys. She introduced herself and led them over to the challah bread. She said the prayers and they ate the bread and salt and drank the wine. Jacob and Isaak seemed greatly relieved and actually convinced that they were safe that they listened carefully to Francois tell them what the plan was. They would be out of the camp in under five hours. In that time they would get some sleep, eat, and if they had clothes that would fit, they would change.

Carter removed his jacket and grabbed a bag with his pajamas. "I'm gonna change and then I've got pictures to take and develop for their papers."

Rachel relayed the message to the boys in German. The bunk rose and the ladder dropped, she turned to see Peter descending the ladder. "Here," he called down to Kinch, "here's me coat." Kinch looked up just in time to see Peter drop the SS coat down and grab it. He frowned at Peter and when Peter got to the bottom of the ladder, Kinch pushed the coat back into his arms. "What's the matter, Kinch?"

At the sound of his voice, Rachel's smile grew wider. "Hey there, beautiful!" Peter put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. "See how marvelous we pulled this off? No problems!"

Carter pulled on his pajama shirt, "I think there's one problem – we won't see the explosion."

"Ah, Carter," Peter groaned. "Stop reminding me."

Hogan shook his head. "Newkirk, LeBeau, Kinch, off to bed. Carter, finish the photographs and papers and then to bed. You guys get some sleep when you finish," Hogan ordered.

Rachel turned in Peter's arms and hugged him. "I know I shouldn't celebrate early, but for being such a mess in the beginning, it's starting to look wonderful!" She kissed his cheek.

"Yeah," Peter grinned back at her. "I have that effect on women."

She dropped her arms and shook her head.