"K-kinch needs you down below, Gov. He says it's urgent," Newkirk said as he burst into Hogan's office. The Colonel was reviewing plans for the night's mission with Carter and LeBeau. Newkirk was off duty tonight and was serving as the team's runner to make sure anything coming over the radio was communicated quickly.

"He's not hurt is he?" Hogan replied quickly, looking up. Newkirk shook his head. "OK, Newkirk, just a minute," Hogan said, returning his gaze to the plans on his desk. "Now about the gate to the compound, guys. You're going to have to…"

"With all respect, Sir, it's Mmajor J-j-essup and he said it is most urgent," Newkirk continued. No response. Hogan was totally focused on his discussion with Carter and LeBeau, so Newkirk tried again. "He's c-calling for Mmmmmm, Mmmmmm," Newkirk said. Oh, God. Stuck. Spit it out, lad, Newkirk urged himself. "Mmmmm."

Carter looked over his shoulder and grinned. "Call for Philip Morris?" he joked.

Newkirk looked bewildered, but pressed on. "Mmmma, Mmmmma…" Why wasn't Colonel Hogan listening? Notice me, he willed him. But it didn't work.

"Calling for money?" Carter continued. LeBeau shot him an annoyed look, but Carter missed it.

"Mmmmma, Mmmmma, Mmmmmma," Newkirk persisted. He finally thumped the table with his fist, hard. "Mama Bear! He's calling on behalf of Mmmama Bear! It's bloody important, Sir!" That got everyone's attention.

"All right, all right, Newkirk. Just get to the point next time," Hogan said, finally looking at the young airman. "Let's head down below, men," he said.

"Jeez, why didn't you just say so?" Carter asked in all seriousness, his eyes big. "That does sound important."

"I was trying," Newkirk hissed. "But you kept inter-inter-interrupting me." He felt LeBeau lay a hand on his back and he calmed down a bit.

Hogan reached the radio before his men, and he was getting a tongue lashing. "Papa Bear, when we say we need you, it is urgent. Please don't keep us waiting again. I have General Dalgleish on the line for you." Major Jessup was handing over the call. Hogan glared at Kinch, then Newkirk.

Newkirk dropped his head and turned red. It was all his fault that the Colonel was getting his head handed to him. He let out a big huff of air, crossed his arms angrily, and snapped out, "Bloody hell."

At that sound, Hogan turned his back. Newkirk was sulking, and he didn't have time for that. He pulled Carter closer and whispered a command.

"Let's get up above, Newkirk," Carter said, taking his friend by the arm.

"But, but…"

"Colonel's orders," Carter said kindly. "Come on." He turned to LeBeau, who was preparing to follow. "Not you, LeBeau. Just Newkirk. I'll be right back."

Ouch, Newkirk thought. That was even worse. It was like being sent out of the room by his father. Not that his father ever did anything like that, but he'd been to the pictures. He'd seem images of nice, normal families with fathers who made their children think about the things they did wrong instead of just beating the shite out of them.

"Wait in his office," Carter said. "Go on. Don't worry. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Returning down below, Carter rejoined the group as the call ended.

"All right. Guys, it hurts our credibility with London when we don't respond quickly. Can we make sure that doesn't happen again?" He looked pointedly at Kinch.

"Colonel, I sent Newkirk up right away. He didn't get lost, did he?" Kinch answered.

LeBeau was shifting uncomfortably. "No, I think he found us pretty quickly," he said. "He just couldn't get the words out."

"It's a liability to involve a man who can't talk properly in conveying messages, Kinch. Maybe next time you could just … write it down? So he doesn't have to talk," Hogan said.

"I can, Sir. But I want you to know, he repeated the message just fine down here," Kinch said defensively. "What happened up there?"

LeBeau looked at Carter, boring holes through his skin. Finally Carter spoke up.

"Uh, I think I might have made it hard for him," Carter said. "I was joking around when he got stuck on that 'M' sound."

Hogan had only been half-listening when Carter and Newkirk were bantering in his office. "What did you say?"

"Well, he was doing that humming thing he does, you know," Carter said. He imitated it: 'Mmmmmm, mmmmm.' I guess I made a joke about …"

"'Calling for Philip Morris,'" Hogan said. Now that he thought of it, he had heard that. "Carter, that wasn't an appropriate time for jokes."

"Carter," Kinch said. "There's one thing, I've learned about Newkirk. If you interrupt him when he's having a hard time with his words, you make it a hundred times worse. You have to be patient with him and let him talk. He'll get through it quicker than you think if you'll just leave him alone." He hesitated, then spoke again. "We can't tease him when he stutters, Carter. We're his friends."

"I... me? I don't tease people! I was just kidding around!" Carter protested. Then it hit him. Kinch was right.

"Aw, man, I feel so lousy," Carter said. "Of course you're right. I didn't mean to throw him off balance. I'll apologize to him."

LeBeau spoke up. "He came into your office, said there was a call, and that it was urgent, and that you were needed down below, Sir," he said. "I think he was completely clear until he started having to explain himself." If Kinch was Newkirk's most vocal defender, LeBeau was his fiercest and most passionate defender. He just wasn't sure yet what he could or couldn't say to the Colonel, and was berating himself for not standing up for Newkirk sooner.

Hogan nodded. "You're right, LeBeau. But the way he gets frazzled and tripped up on his words… it's hard to deal with. I'll go talk to him."

They trooped up the ladder. Carter and LeBeau sat at the table while Hogan went into his office. He found Newkirk sitting on his bottom bunk, looking despondent. He stood up, came to attention and saluted as the Colonel entered.

"At ease, Corporal," Hogan said. He looked at the young Englishman, trying to keep a brave face on but clearly worried. "You're not in trouble. I just need to understand…"

Newkirk sat again, with his head hanging down. "I don't think there's anything to understand, Sir. I mmmm, mmmm." He let out a deep, exasperated breath. 'Messed up' wouldn't come. "Oh…. I bloody well screwed up, Sir, and I'm sorry you got taken to task by London. It's all mmmmmm…" The words failed him again, but he figured the Colonel could fill in the meaning of "my fault." He looked up at him miserably.

Hogan pulled up a stool and sat opposite him. He laid a gentle hand on Newkirk's knee. "I've never been around anyone who stuttered before, Newkirk," he said softly. "You're going to have to help me understand."

"I practiced what I was going to say with Kinch. It didn't take but a moment, and I 'ad it j-just right," Newkirk said softly. "If I rehearse, it's like reading from a script. I can do it. It's j-j-j-just harder when someone throws me off c-course."

He heard a creak at the door. It was Carter, and he stepped inside.

"Sorry, Colonel, but I had to listen," he said with a nod to Hogan. "Peter, that was my fault. I was making jokes when you were trying to get out an important message."

Newkirk nodded. "I like j-j-jokes as mmmuch as anyone, Carter. But you were rattling mmme." Then his look grew fierce. "And what the bloody hell did you mean about bloody Philip Mmmorris, anyway?"

"The cigarette commercial? Oh, I'll explain it later," Carter said with a smile. He sat down on the bunk next to Newkirk, put an arm around him, and addressed the Colonel. "This one is on me, Sir. I'll take any consequences you had in mind."

Hogan nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. What I really need to understand now, Newkirk, is how can we help you communicate better?"

Newkirk swiped at his eyes. He came into the Colonel's office expecting to be berated, not treated with kindness and understanding. "J-just, just don't finish my sentences for me," he said softly. "And look at me when I'm talking to you? Because it's not always easy for me to talk to you, and it helps to know you're paying attention, Sir. Please don't look away from me when I'm t-t-t-talking." It was a struggle, because he felt ashamed, but he held the Colonel's gaze even though his chin was inching toward his chest.

Hogan listened carefully. He was struck by how Newkirk sounded simultaneously vulnerable, confident and determined. He knew what he needed to be successful as a member of this time, and he wanted to do his part. He just needed his commanding officer and the rest of the team to see it too, and to believe in him, the way Kinch and LeBeau already did.

Hogan lifted Newkirk's chin up and looked him right in the eye. "That's a deal, Corporal," he said. "You've got my word on it."