Mills went down the tunnel to the bomb-making workroom, where Carter was assembling the charges for the rocket facility. Normally he worked alone, and he didn't look happy about having LeBeau hanging around. But the Frenchman wouldn't go away, so he had to put up with it. He didn't pay any attention when Mills came into sight.

"Colonel Hogan sent me down to give you a hand," said Mills. "LeBeau, Schultz is looking for you. I'll stay till you get back," he added quietly.

There was silence after LeBeau left. Carter kept working, as if Mills wasn't there.

"You know, don't you?" he said at last. Mills flushed, and looked down at the floor.

"What do they do there, include it in the briefing for new arrivals?" added Carter bitterly. "Why don't they just put it into general orders and tell the whole army?"

"It wasn't like that, Carter," said Mills. Carter didn't reply, and after a pause, Mills went on. "The guys that told me thought I ought to know, because of..." He broke off. "They kept your name out of it."

"You still worked it out."

"Only after I got here, and found out you'd been at the 182nd. And even then I wasn't sure, till now."

Carter remained silent for a while, and then he pushed the completed assemblage across the table. "You can fit the timer," he said. "See if you really know what you're doing."

He looked on critically while Mills finished the construction. "That's pretty good," he said. "I guess you'll be okay."

Mills leaned back, watching as Carter inspected his handiwork.

"Carter, you're not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?" he asked.

Carter looked up. For a second he didn't seem to get it, then his eyes widened.

"You got some nerve, asking me a question like that," he said. "You think I'm dumb enough that I don't know how much trouble that'd cause?" He shook his head in disbelief, and went back to work.

"Sorry," murmured Mills.

"It's not like I haven't made enough of a mess of things already," added Carter.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Mills paused, biting his lip. "You thought about it."

Carter gave an impatient shrug. "Long time ago. Not now." His manner wasn't encouraging, but Mills relaxed slightly.

"Look, Carter, it's none of my business," he said after a couple of minutes. "But if you don't want half the men in camp asking questions, you better pull yourself together." As Carter looked up again, he went on quickly. "I know. Not easy." He knew all about that. Boy, did he ever know about that. But it wouldn't help Carter to go into details.

The sound of footsteps in the passage alerted them to LeBeau's return. Carter bent over his work, and Mills rested his elbows on the table, watching with interest.

"Did Schultz find you?" he asked, without looking up.

LeBeau glowered. "Where does he think I'm going to get the ingredients for a cake? Doesn't he know there's a war on? It can't be done."

"You made a cake last week, for Kinch's birthday," said Carter.

"What's your point, Carter?" replied LeBeau, genuinely puzzled.

A half-suppressed smile crossed Mills' face. Carter looked up at him, and his lips twitched. He didn't say anything, but the crease between his eyebrows softened a little. For just a moment, it seemed as if things were getting back to normal. But then he tensed up again.

LeBeau and Mills exchanged looks. Mills knew more than LeBeau, but both of them recognized that the problem wasn't going to be fixed as easily as that.


It was after lights out. Kinch looked up as Hogan came into the radio room. "Still no information, Colonel."

Hogan, already dressed as a Luftwaffe major in readiness for the evening's mission, frowned. "What's taking them so long?"

"It's not twenty-four hours yet," Kinch pointed out, slightly on the defensive. He hesitated, then went on, "Colonel, you're really worked up about this. What's up?"

"Not sure yet," replied Hogan. Even if he had been certain, he wasn't prepared to discuss the matter.

"Look, why don't we just get rid of Jackson? We could convince Klink to transfer him to another camp," Kinch said.

"It's not that simple, Kinch. I want him out, but I don't want Simms and the rest of his crew asking awkward questions about it. We have to make sure it's done the right way."

And it may not solve the problem. Another thought he had to keep to himself. Carter seemed less wound up today, but Hogan was still watching him closely, and he wasn't happy with what he saw.

"I don't think Fuller or Gardner will object. I can sound out Simms and Sharpe, if you want," suggested Kinch

Hogan glanced over his shoulder, as Hughes, also in German uniform, appeared from the tunnel. "Do that," he said quietly.

Kinch nodded, glancing sharply at the Welsh commando, and changed the subject. "Newkirk's gone to pick up the car from the motor pool. He'll meet you at the crossroad in twenty minutes," he said, checking his watch.

"Good. You ready, Hughes?"

"Never thought I'd be seen abroad in this outfit," remarked Hughes. "Newkirk does good work."

"Too good, sometimes," replied Hogan. "He just can't bring himself to do a second-rate tailoring job. It's going to get us caught one day. The real Kraut uniforms give out at the seams." He gave Kinch a final nod. "Keep an eye on things," he said, and led the way to the emergency exit.

A quick check with the periscope confirmed that the way was clear. "I'll go up first," said Hogan. "You wait sixty seconds, then follow. If the exit is closed, wait for me to open it. We'll be in range of the spotlight, so we play it safe."

Hughes followed his orders to the letter. He was exactly what he appeared, reliable and competent. They reached the meeting point safely a few minutes before Newkirk arrived with the car.

"All okay?" asked Hogan.

"Bleedin' sergeant at the motor pool made me pay a deposit," replied Newkirk indignantly. "Anyone would think he doesn't trust us."

"I hope you got a receipt," said Hogan. "Otherwise Kinch won't let you get it back from petty cash."

It took almost an hour to reach the target. Leaving the car a short distance away, they approached on foot, keeping to the cover of the forest that surrounded the rocket research laboratory.

"Clearance zone around the perimeter," murmured Hogan thoughtfully. "What would you say, Newkirk - fifty yards?"

"Easily, sir. Fence is electrified, too."

"Only one gate, and that's pretty well guarded," Hogan went on. "And spotlights, as well. If Stalag 13 was that secure, we'd never get anything done."

"Can you get us inside?" asked Hughes.

Hogan nodded. "Should be manageable. We'll have to go in the gate. I'm thinking SS - maybe Gestapo."

"Take a couple of days to get the uniforms done, Colonel," observed Newkirk.

"Okay, let's say Friday night. We'll work out the details back at camp. Let's go."

Newkirk dropped the other two off at the crossroad, before taking the car back to the motor pool. It was now almost pitch dark in the woods, and Hogan made his way through the trees with caution. They were within yards of the tunnel entrance when Hogan stopped. He had heard something, a rustling in the bushes.

He gestured to Hughes, and moved behind a tree trunk. Hughes took up position a little way distant, and they waited. Something moved in the darkness, crossing from one stand of trees to another. It could be their unknown forest friend, the one who had shot at LeBeau a couple of weeks earlier.

Hogan edged forward, scanning the darkness. His foot caught in a tree root, and he stumbled. He quickly regained his footing, but the noise had alerted the stranger, and the sound of running footsteps indicated that there was no chance of solving that problem tonight.

Another mystery. Just what Hogan needed. He cursed under his breath, and set off, with Hughes close behind, back to camp.