It was shortly before morning roll call when Hogan, Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk returned to the tunnel under Barracks Two, having successfully evaded the guards who were patrolling the woods around the camp. They'd been unsuccessful; however, in finding Carter, even after an all-night exhaustive search up and down the trail leading to the missile plant.

Newkirk looked the most dejected, feeling more and more that it was his fault for leaving Carter. But what else could he have done? He'd really thought the American sergeant had headed back to camp after not meeting up with him.

Still, that did little to assuage Newkirk's growing guilt. He turned to Hogan, who was behind him, waiting for him to climb the ladder up to the barracks, and asked with desperation in his voice, "Blimey, Colonel, where could he be?"

"I don't know," Hogan said, worry filling his face. The bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep for the past two nights revealed just how exhausted he was.

Newkirk wasn't looking much better. He climbed up the ladder and walked over by the table where LeBeau and Kinch were standing. Hogan, the last one up, headed for his quarters and gestured to his men to follow.

"All right," Hogan said, once they were all in his quarters and the door had been shut, "After roll call, I want the three of you to go straight to your bunks and get some shuteye. We're not going to do anyone any good if we drop dead from exhaustion."

"What about you, sir?" Kinch asked, "No offense, Colonel, but you look like you're about to drop, yourself."

"Don't worry about me, Kinch, I'm planning to get some sleep, myself. We can't go looking for Carter during the day, anyway."

"Colonel, does that mean we'll be going out again tonight?" Newkirk asked hopefully.

Hogan nodded. "Yes, that's why I want you all to get some rest today, so we'll be fresher when we go look for him again."

"But where should we look, Mon Colonel?" LeBeau asked, "We didn't find him along that trail… Where else could he be?"

"He's got to be somewhere near that bloomin' factory," Newkirk stated with conviction, "I still say he got lost and –"

"Maybe," LeBeau cut in, "But we can't search the whole forest!"

Newkirk frowned. "Louis, you're the one, what kept sayin' we'd find him… You're not giving up on him now, are you?"

"No, mon ami, I'm just saying –"

"All right, you two," Hogan interrupted, holding up his hand, "This isn't going to get us anywhere."

The sound of Schultz's voice bellowing through the barracks reached their ears, and they knew it was time for roll call.

"Look, we're all tired," Hogan said, "After we get some sleep, we'll come up with a plan to look for Carter, okay?"

The men nodded in agreement.

"Okay, let's go." Hogan ushered the men out of his quarters and followed them out.

As Newkirk joined the line of men exiting the barracks, an image formed in his mind of Carter lost somewhere in the woods, possibly hurt – or worse – and a fresh wave of worry and guilt coursed through him. Oh Andrew, where are you? He thought, his fear rising, and then he inwardly shook his head. No, I can't think that way; wherever he is, he's all right… He has to be! He inwardly sighed. Don't worry, mate, we're comin' for you… we'll find you tonight, I just know it! But deep down, Newkirk felt a seed of doubt beginning to grow, and he knew right then that if anything terrible had happened to his American friend, he'd never forgive himself.

He's sleeping peacefully, when he hears a sound above him and opens his eyes. He looks up toward the opening of the hole he's trapped in and sees a face peering down, calling his name.

"Andrew!" he hears the person yell down, and he recognizes him instantly.

"Newkirk!" he calls out, "Boy, am I glad to see you! I'm stuck down here, and I can't get out!"

"Andrew, are you down there?"

"Yes, I'm here, Newkirk, can't you hear me?" he yells, now becoming fearful.

"Andrew, where are you? I can't find you…"

"I'm here, I'm here! Newkirk, I'm down here!" he shouts as loudly as he can. As he stares upwards, Newkirk's face disappears, and now he starts to panic. "Wait, don't go! I'm here, I'm down here, please Newkirk, come back! Come back!"

"Come back," Carter mumbled quietly as he slowly woke from his dream and opened his eyes; noting absently they were a little moister than usual. He lay there for a few minutes, trying to pull himself together, then let out a sigh and turned his head to look up.

It was daytime, but the sky was overcast and there was considerably less light filtering down to him than there had been the day before. The air was colder, too, and he felt himself shiver.

Once again he pushed himself up to a sitting position, clenching his teeth against the flare of pain in his leg caused by the movement. After scooting back against the dirt wall, he let out the breath he'd been holding and waited for the pain to return to the dull ache he'd become accustomed to.

I wonder what time it is, Carter thought as he sat there, and reached for the flashlight. When he shined it at his watch, he was surprised to see it read 8:30. Funny, I thought it was earlier than that. Of course, I don't know what time I fell asleep, and since it's cloudy today, it's a lot darker down here…

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of thunder, and he frowned. Oh, great, just what I need!

As if the heavens themselves had read his mind, drops of rain began falling from above, pitter-pattering onto his jacket and dotting the material of his pants. A crack of thunder, louder this time, sounded across the sky, and he winced. Jeez, now I'm going to get soaking wet…

That thought reminded him of how incredibly thirsty he was. As the rain began to fall harder, he leaned his head back and tried to catch some with his mouth. He could only get a drop or two here and there, and all that managed to do was inflame his thirst even more.

Hey, I know… Carter stuck his hands out in front of him and cupped them together, trying to catch the rain that way. It worked, although it took a while for the water to accumulate enough for him to have something to drink, and even then it was barely a sip.

Frustrated, he glanced around the enclosed space, and then an idea hit him. He picked up the flashlight, unscrewed the cap and proceeded to dump the batteries out into his hand. He shoved them into his jacket pocket, then wedged the handle of the flashlight between his thighs with the opening pointed up, and held it securely with his legs while cupping his hands once again to catch what rainwater he could. At least I'll have water to drink for later.

The rain was coming down hard now, and his legs were getting soaked. Fortunately his jacket was fairly rainproof, so his upper body was staying relatively dry. Except for his head, but as long as he kept it tilted down, he could keep the rain off his face, at least. He wished he still had his uniform cap, but he'd lost it when he fell. It was probably lying on the ground above, just beyond the rim, which did him no good at the moment.

A flash of lightning streaked across the sky above, giving him a momentary clear view of the space around him. It was pretty much how it had looked with the flashlight, but seeing the whole area lit up like that was a painful reminder of just how trapped he really was. Please, fellas, you have to find me, I don't want to die down here!

The thunder boomed, and the rain continued to pour down for the next fifteen minutes or so. Then the storm gradually moved off, leaving Carter half-soaked and sitting in the mud.

When the rain had stopped, he pulled up the flashlight and peered into it, but couldn't see how much water was in there. Tentatively he raised it to his lips and took a sip. It tasted funny and there wasn't much in there, but the little bit he drank helped somewhat to soothe his dry throat. He didn't drink all of it, deciding to save some for later. There was no telling if it would rain again soon.

Now that he'd had some water, his hunger flared anew. He sighed with frustration, then, tilting his head back, began calling for help again. He yelled until his voice started to give out, but didn't get any response.

There was no one around to hear him.

It was late afternoon when Hogan and his men – all of whom had finally gotten some much needed rest – slipped down into the tunnel to discuss their next plan for searching for Carter. They'd gathered around the map table, and Hogan was studying it as he talked.

"Okay, this is the area we checked last night," Hogan drew his hand along the section that contained the trail to the factory, "If Carter had been anywhere near there, I'm sure we would have found him."

"But, sir," Newkirk frowned, "We only looked along the trail. What if Carter wandered off and he's in the woods someplace nearby…"

"Newkirk," Hogan cut in, "LeBeau's right, we can't search the whole forest."

"Colonel, I really think me mate is somewhere here," Newkirk said, circling an area around the trail with his finger.

Hogan frowned. "That's still a pretty big area to search. What makes you so sure he's there, anyway?"

Newkirk shrugged, "Just a feeling, sir."

Hogan was the last person to dismiss a gut feeling. "Well, we could probably search some of that area tonight, but I'm afraid it's going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack…"

The Morse code receiver next to the radio equipment interrupted just then. Kinch walked over and sat down behind the table and, after grabbing some paper, began to write quickly.

The other three men wandered over, as well. Hogan waited patiently until Kinch was finished, and looked at him expectantly.

"It's from London, Colonel," Kinch said, addressing his C.O., "They want us to blow up that missile plant tonight; they said it's imperative we take care of it tonight."

"Did they say why it's so imperative?" Hogan asked.

"No, sir, just that it needs to be done right away."

"But Andre is still missing," LeBeau piped up, "We can't blow it up without him."

Hogan nodded. "Kinch, message them back; tell them we've got a man missing, and we can't complete the mission without him."

Kinch tapped out the message, and they all waited for the response. Moments later, the return message came through, and as Kinch wrote it down, his brow furrowed. "Colonel, they said that if we can't take care of it, they're going to send a squadron of bombers over tonight to do the job."

"Blimey, they can't do that!" Newkirk exclaimed, "If Carter's still anywhere near there, he'll be killed!"

"He's right," LeBeau agreed, "Mon Colonel, they have to give us a chance to find him…"

But Hogan was already on it. "Kinch, tell them they need to give us time to find our missing man, tell them when we do, we can take care of the plant ourselves."

Once again Kinch sent the message, and this time the air was filled with tension as they waited to find out what London would say. A few moments later, the response came back. After Kinch stopped writing, he looked at Hogan, his expression grim. "They said we have one day to find him. If we don't, they're going to send the bombers tomorrow night – and it's not negotiable."

Hogan frowned and folded his arms. "Then we're just gonna have to find him tonight."

The day wore on, the clouds rolled through, but no more rain fell, which – for Carter – was a mixed blessing. He would have liked to collect more water, but he was grateful for the chance to dry out a little.

Still, his pants remained damp well into the evening. His injured leg throbbed, but he scarcely paid it any attention. He was extremely thirsty, the few sips of rainwater had helped only briefly, and his stomach rumbled off and on, letting him know how empty it was.

His despair was growing, along with his thirst and hunger, and he began to realize he might never get out of there… No, I can't think that way, the guys will find me, I'm sure they will! But his hope was fading fast, and he no longer really believed it.

Carter called out a few more times, but it yielded the same result as the last time, and the time before that… Nothing. He'd decided that he must be in the middle of nowhere, so the chance of anyone hearing him was slim to none, but he kept trying anyway… What else could he do?

After a bit he stopped, too tired and thirsty to go on. He didn't know what time it was, but it felt late, and he figured he might as well lie down and get some sleep. He picked up the flashlight which he'd been keeping upright next to his side, and drank the last few sips from in it. Then he got an idea and pulled the batteries from his pocket. He couldn't see which way to put them in, but after a few attempts, he was pretty sure he'd gotten them right.

After screwing on the top, Carter took a breath and flicked the switch. Surprisingly, the flashlight worked, and he let out an excited, "Yes!" He checked his watch then, and saw it was almost midnight. No wonder I'm tired, he thought, and decided to lie back down on his side. He flicked off the flashlight but held onto it. If the guys come looking for me, I'll hear them and I can shine it up there so they can find me.

Between the dampness and the darkness he was cold, so he curled up as much as he could and drew his coat tight around him. He lay there for a little while, trying not to think too much, trying to hang on to some shred of hope that someone would find him before it was too late. Eventually he drifted off to sleep – his only escape from the utter dread that was growing steadily inside him.

Late that evening, after roll call, Hogan and his men slipped out of camp and headed back towards the factory, keeping alert for the guards who were conducting their own search for the missing prisoner.

When they got to the area by the trail, they split into two groups, combing the woods, spreading out as far as they dared.

Newkirk and Kinch were checking an area just off the trail, when they thought they heard something. They froze, their ears straining in the darkness, but it was just a couple of squirrels chasing each other through the brush, scurrying past their feet and running up a tree, chittering loudly at one another. The two men glanced at each other, letting out a sigh of relief, then moved on to keep searching.

Several hours passed, and Newkirk and Kinch had still found no sign of Carter. When they met up with Hogan and LeBeau, they discovered Louis and the colonel hadn't had any luck, either.

Exhausted and dejected, the four men headed back to camp. Newkirk was particularly despondent; so sure they would find him this time. But they hadn't, and now they were running out of time. Somehow, they would have to convince London to hold off on the bombing so they could look for Carter again the next night.

And if they couldn't get London to change their plans, well, Newkirk was just going to come back to look for him, anyway.