It took some time to locate the command post. Schultz had been given directions, but he hadn't really taken them in, and he became hopelessly confused once they'd passed through the town.

Hogan finally stopped and asked a passing farmer, who was moving his pigs to higher ground. His instructions were clear, if a trifle disturbing. "Keep going straight on till you reach the dead cow, then turn right. It's on top of the hill, you can't miss it. Oh, and take care. An army truck overturned, and there are a few live grenades lying around."

At least this gave Schultz something else to worry about.

"Oh, boy, something smells bad," said Kinch after a while, leaning over from the back of the truck. "Is that the dead cow?"

"I think it's just the floodwater," replied Hogan grimly. "Better get used to it."

The command centre was buzzing with activity, and Hogan parked the truck a little distance away. "Kinch, you wait here, and keep your head down," he murmured. "Don't look so worried, Schultz. Just let me do the talking."

"Let him do the talking, he says," muttered Schultz under his breath. "Maybe I should have just packed my things and kept driving till I got to Stalingrad. It would have saved time." Nevertheless, he followed Hogan towards the first aid tent, clutching the bundle of clothes he'd brought for Langenscheidt.

Here it was quieter; there seemed to be a lull in the flow of casualties, and the medical staff were taking a brief rest when Hogan entered. None of them moved, but one man looked up. "Can I help you?" he asked, in a tone which made it clear he'd rather not.

"Captain Gruber, Luftstalag 13," replied Hogan crisply. Behind him, Schultz uttered a stifled groan. "I believe you have one of our men here."

"Over there." The medic indicated the far end of the tent with a jerk of the head. "Still asleep, as far as I know."

"Is he badly hurt?" asked Schultz tentatively.

"Nothing serious. You can take him back to your camp."

Schultz pushed past Hogan and approached the patient in the end cot. "Karl, are you awake?" he said. "It's me, Sergeant Schultz. I've come to bring you home." Then, as he got closer, he stopped in his tracks. "But...but...oh, Colonel - I mean Captain, this time he went too far. Oh, boy, did he go too far!"

The patient appeared to be dozing, but at the sound of the familiar voice he stirred, and his eyes opened. "Well, if it isn't old Schultzie," he murmured sleepily. Then his gaze went past Schultz to find Hogan, and a slow smile formed. "I might have known..."

Hogan pulled up a camp stool from nearby, and sat down, taking off his gloves. "Okay, Newkirk, take it easy," he said quietly. "You don't look too good."

"I've been better, sir. They gave me something - pain-killer, it's made me a bit..." Newkirk trailed off, blinking. After a moment of apparent confusion, he tried to sit up. The movement made him light-headed, and Hogan put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, causing him to wince.

"Sorry," said Hogan.

"I'm all right, Colonel," Newkirk mumbled. "But we should get moving. LeBeau and Carter are still out on the road somewhere, and Hochstetter's looking for the old geezer and the girl, so..."

"Wait a minute," Schultz put in. For the moment, Hochstetter's name had passed him by. "LeBeau and Carter escaped, too? Oh, I really have to report this. As soon as we get back to camp..."

Hogan cut in without ceremony. "Wouldn't it be better to find 'em first, Schultz? No good heading back to Stalag 13 without them, is it? They could be in Switzerland by the time you make that report. And that's not going to go over well with Klink."

"But, Colonel Hogan, please..."

"Don't just stand there, Schultz. Let's get Newkirk into his clean uniform."

"It isn't his uniform. It isn't even his size," grumbled Schultz. He knew he'd already lost the argument, but as usual had no notion of conceding graciously.

"Well, it'll have to do." Hogan stood up. "Come on, we haven't got all day. And while you're dressing, Newkirk, you can tell me all about this girl you just mentioned, and explain how Hochstetter's involved."

Newkirk slowly eased himself up from the cot. "Not that sort of girl, Colonel," he said in a hoarse whisper. "This is a lass of fourteen, got caught in the flood with her granddad. We got her out safely, but I got into a bit of bother going back for the old man. So I don't even know if he made it all right." His forehead contracted as he considered the chances.

"Where did you last see them? And where does Hochstetter fit in?"

"He was here a while ago. Not sure how long, I seem to have lost track of the time a bit. But he told the medic he was looking for a Doctor - Zauner, I think it was, and his granddaughter. He broke his foot," Newkirk added, wrinkling his brow in the effort to remember everything. "We were north of the Distel, up river maybe five miles. I thought we'd be able to cross over and reach Heiligen, but the bridge was under water, and then..." His voice died away, and he shook his head impatiently to try to clear it.

Hogan helped him into Langenscheidt's shirt. It was a tight fit; Langenscheidt was narrow across the shoulders. "Who broke his foot? The doctor?"

"No, Hochstetter. But he's not letting it slow him down much." Newkirk drew a sharp breath as he drew the shirt over his shoulder. "Sorry, Colonel. Just a bit sore across there."

"Colonel Hogan, I do not wish to meet Major Hochstetter." Schultz was growing even more agitated, as it dawned on him that the two missing POWs were not the sum total of the disaster. "Not while I am transporting escaping prisoners. Please, can't we just go back to camp?"

"And leave my men out in this weather? Never," replied Hogan. He took the uniform jacket from Schultz's hands and held it up for Newkirk to slip his arm into. "Leave the other arm out," he said. "The topcoat can just go over your shoulders." He glanced down at Newkirk's bare feet. "Where are your boots?" he asked.

"Still in the car, I hope," replied Newkirk. He was quite wobbly on his feet; Hogan hoped it was just the medication. He took Newkirk's arm, and nodded to Schultz to help from the other side.

As they headed back towards the tent flap, the doctor in charge came to meet them. "Just one moment, please," he said.

Hogan stopped. He glanced at Newkirk, and then at Schultz, who looked as if he were about to burst a blood vessel. "Yes, what is the problem?" he asked, in a bored tone.

"Your man was suffering from mild hypothermia when he arrived," said the doctor. "He needs to be kept warm, and allowed plenty of rest. And have your medical officer monitor his condition."

"Thank you," replied Hogan. "We'll be sure to do that."

The doctor hadn't finished. "In addition, there are certain water-borne diseases he may have been exposed to. So if in the next two weeks he develops any symptoms, you will be well advised to take him straight to the nearest hospital."

Hogan didn't like the sound of that. "What kind of symptoms?"

"Any fever," the doctor replied, "cramps or muscular aches and pains, nausea and vomiting, diarrhoea..." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Any kind of rash, difficulty breathing or swallowing ... general fatigue or debility ... sometimes the symptoms can also include nervousness and depression."

"I'm not surprised," muttered Newkirk, who had listened with increasing dismay to the catalogue of horrors he had, potentially, to look forward to.

"We'll keep a close eye on him, in that case," said Hogan. "Anything else? Then we'd best be going. Oh, by the way, we may need to get across the river. Is there a safe crossing?"

"The nearest would be the Bismarck Bridge, near Gardheim. It's built high, and it's still open," replied the doctor. "But I thought you were going to Stalag 13. This man said he had an urgent message for the Kommandant, from General Burkhalter."

"That was hours ago," Newkirk put in. "You doctors really don't understand about deadlines, do you?"

"So now we have to go back to the general's headquarters for further instructions," Hogan added.

The doctor looked even more puzzled. "Isn't the general based at Hammelburg?" he asked hesitantly.

Schultz opened his mouth to utter an agreement, stopped, thought better of it, and closed his lips firmly. As usual, it was in his best interest to know nothing. Hogan glanced at Newkirk, and a condescending smile crossed his face.

"Gotta love the medical corps," he remarked. "They never have a clue what's going on."

And before the doctor could respond, he and his companions had gone out into the rain and the darkness.

Kinch was watching for them, and as he saw them approaching he leaned out over the tailgate to help lift Newkirk into the truck. "Well, that ain't Langenscheidt," he remarked. "What about...?"

"Still on the other side of the river," replied Hogan. "I've just been told there's no crossing closer than Gardheim."

"Gardheim is too far away," said Schultz, making a belated effort to assert himself. "We can not go there tonight."

Hogan boosted Newkirk up into the truck before he replied. "You're right, Schultz. It'd take us till dawn just to get there, and by the time we did, they could be anywhere." He paused, thinking. "You better get in. I'll keep driving."

Schultz hesitated, then growled, and went round the side of the truck.

"We're not just going to leave them out there, Colonel?" Newkirk's voice sounded rough, whether from exhaustion, near-drowning or the effect of the medication was unclear. "We can't do that. You don't know what it's like, that side of the river."

"I never said anything about leaving them." Hogan pulled his gloves over his hands with sharp, jerky movements. "But for everyone's sake, we have to be smart about this. I wasn't kidding - the medical corps don't have a clue. So I'm not prepared to take their word for it, and head off to Gardheim, without getting some more information first. Kinch, who do we know in Heiligen?"

Kinch didn't answer at once. After some thought, he nodded. "There's a hotel there - Die Sonne - the owner was in the Underground. He died, but his widow's still running the place, as far as I know. Maybe she could help, if she's on our side."

"Maybe even if she isn't." Hogan nodded. "Okay. We'll give it a shot."

"What about Schultz?"

Hogan laughed, quietly and without humour. "You kidding? We're taking Schultz to a hotel, Kinch." He didn't need to finish; both Kinch and Newkirk knew Schultz well enough to follow the thought to its conclusion.

Once they got Schultz to the hotel, found the bar and got a few beers into him, he wouldn't care what they got up to for the rest of the night.