Note: my apologies for the change of story avatar, but I really find that this boy resembles my image of Theo a lot closer than the kid I had here before.

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"Right, who's next?"

August got up from his cot. He cast the soldier in blue a look that was as arrogant as it was defiant, and without a word he stepped past him out of their holding cell.

Newkirk grinned. "This way, if you please, sir." He led the way to the outer fringes of their tunnel system, where their underground latrine for downed flyers was located. "In you go. Although there still isn't much in the style of toilet paper, I'm afraid."

August stepped around the wooden partition and quickly relieved himself. This was it... He zipped up his fly, and quietly turned around to peer through the cracks in the partition. Where was his guard? Perfect – he was standing right in front of the opening, facing away, but with his body turned toward him. Quick then!

Newkirk turned his head just in time to see the kid come charging out of the loo with his head down. But even his reflexes weren't quick enough: "Oompf...!" He still grabbed for the boy even as he doubled over after the violent headbutt in his stomach. His hand brushed against the cotton of a shirt – but the kid had already taken off down the tunnel.

"Kinch!" August heard him wheeze behind him, but he paid his victim no heed. He had to find the ladder out of here, and quick, before the guy raised the alarm and the tunnels were swarmed with enemy soldiers.

But how many tunnels were there? He thought he remembered how to get back to the exit, but suddenly it seemed there were tunnels branching off everywhere, and they all looked the same: dark, and impossible to guess where they led. He tried to run on straight ahead as much as he could, but he could already hear the muffled sound of running footsteps. And voices. Where was that blasted ladder?!

Another bifurcation. No time to hesitate – he threw himself into the left opening. And ran straight into the ladder!

Already feeling jubilant, he jumped up the rungs and pushed at the wooden cover. It was heavier than he had expected, but maybe that was because they had locked it, as that man had said. Leaning against the rungs for support, he pushed at it with all his might. But the footsteps in the tunnels were coming closer – he was running out of time!

Suddenly, the cover's resistance lifted and he could raise it. Fresh air and a blue sky greeted him, and eagerly he scrambled up the last rungs to freedom and victory over the evil enemy prisoners.

But a fierce growl made him look up. Right in the face of a gigantic German shepherd, standing over him with his teeth bared and the drool dripping from his mouth.

August let out a startled shriek and staggered back. But behind him was nothing – nothing but air, and the next thing he knew he was falling down the ladder, right into the arms of one of the enemy soldiers who'd just come running in. The cover banged shut above him, at least shutting out that monster dog.

For a moment they just stared at each other – the strong black man, and the blond boy in his arms, his eyes wide with fright.

"What are you doing?" Kinch asked gently in German.

"I... I just wanted to..." August felt tears welling up. Of relief? Of disappointment? Anger? "Put me down!" he suddenly ordered, brusquely brushing away his tears of weakness.

Kinch did as he was told, although he held a firm grip on the boy's wrist.

"Let go of me!" August's anger was definitely taking over now, but he stood no chance against Kinch's vice-like grip, no matter how much he squirmed and twisted.

And there were the others: Hogan with his eyes flashing, and the still slightly stooped Newkirk. "What's going on here? What the heck are you doing here?" Hogan demanded of their young prisoner.

August just gave him a defiant glare.

And Hogan sighed. "Get him back to his cell. And tie them."

Kinch hesitated. "All three of them?"

A terse nod. "All three of them. We can't have them running around trying to escape." And to August he added, "You, my boy, are going to have to learn the lesson everyone has to learn sooner or later: no one escapes from Stalag 13! Understood?"


"What happened?" Theo whispered once they were more or less left to themselves again, albeit now with their wrists and ankles tied.

August shrugged. "I headbutted that guy in blue and got away. And I found the exit. Only when I opened it, there was this giant monster dog, ready to bite my head off. And then they caught me before I could shoo him away."

Theo looked at him, but made no reply. His gut told him that August wasn't telling everything, but there seemed to be no reason to press him. So instead he asked, "So what do we do now?"

"Work on those ropes of course." August was already twisting his arms, trying to get a good grip on one of the knots. "'No one escapes from Stalag 13', they said. Ha! We'll show them!"

"They did it, too, in a book I read," Werner contributed. "It only took them an hour or so to get their hands free. And then they overpowered their kidnappers by surprise and..."

"Too bad your present guards are a bit more vigilant than those kidnappers in an adventure book," Goldman spoke up by the door. "I wouldn't get any ideas, if I were you. We've got orders to check on your ropes every hour. But if you insist on trying to get loose, we can make it every ten minutes."

August rolled his eyes at Werner in accusation, but Theo took a more philosophical view. "They're bound to be more vigilant now that we've tried to escape. It's no use, August. We're stuck here."

That earned him a glare, too. "Maybe you are," August muttered, ferociously pulling at a knot.


Upstairs in the main room, August's daring escape attempt was the topic of conversation, too.

"I couldn't believe my eyes!" Garlotti stated for the fourth time. "There I was, quietly lounging in the morning sun, and suddenly the dog house is raised and one of those kids sticks up his head! If it wasn't for the dogs, we'd all be toast by now!"

"So what's the problem?" Carter challenged. "It turned out alright, didn't it? Thanks to the dogs."

"The dogs always know what to do." LeBeau stirred in the watery porridge on the stove. "They've never let us down."

"But the kid was this close to revealing the entire operation!" Newkirk shuddered at the thought. "Imagine if the guards had come to investigate for real! A shriek, and a bang... That's bound to raise suspicion!"

"They wouldn't," LeBeau replied with serene confidence. "They're too scared of the dogs. And Sieglinde put on a marvellous act, didn't she? Pretending she'd hurt her tail."

"I still say we should punish the kid," Saunders poned again. "If only to scare them off from trying such a stunt again. Maybe no breakfast?"

LeBeau huffed. "You'd call this watery substance breakfast?"

But Kinch, calm and composed as always, shook his head. "I think we better leave it up to the Colonel to hand out any punishments."

"Well, I'm glad that they'll be out of our hair tonight," Newkirk muttered. "I can do without getting gutbutted, thank you very much."

This was too much for Carter. "Well, what would you do if you got locked up and were told you wouldn't be able to go home until the war was over?"

Newkirk smirked. "Carter, that's exactly what happened to every man in this camp."

"But wouldn't you try everything you could to escape? You always told us you and LeBeau had numerous escape attempts before the Colonel took over. So how can you blame those kids for trying?"

"Carter," Kinch began, but Carter was just picking up speed.

"I mean, if I'd been captured and held prisoner by a bunch of strange guys when I was ten, I would have tried anything to try and get away from them. Besides, we have been ordered not to escape, so..."

"So have they," Newkirk put in.

"By their captors! The enemy!" Carter gave back. "We're stuck here on orders from London, from our own side. That's a big difference. It's only natural to try and get away when your enemy captures you, isn't it?"

A multitude of shrugs and sighs seemed to indicate that the others couldn't argue that point.

"Of course you're right, Carter." It was Kinch who spoke up quietly in defence of everyone's reactions. "Personally, I think those boys are being very brave under the circumstances, and it's certainly natural that they're trying to escape. However, in doing so, they brought us all within half an inch of the firing squad this morning. That's the reality we have to face, too."

"And what about their reality? Being sent off to England without their parents, for heaven knows how long... And those poor Mums and Dads, who at this very moment are crying their eyes out, utterly devastated because their little boy got killed in an explosion... or so they think... I wish..." He swallowed with difficulty. "I wish I could just leave them a note, you know. Telling them that their son is alright, and that they'll get him back once the war is over. I wish..."

"Carter."

Carter turned. A fiery red crept up his cheeks.

In the doorway to his quarters stood the Colonel. At first glance he looked his usual cool and collected self. But something, Carter realized with dread, something indefinable was off there.

"Yes, sir?" he croaked.

"I want to see you in my office. Now."