Lene was sitting in the corner of the tunnel. She was going to go crazy if she didn't do something productive soon. Sitting down a borrowed book from Kinch, All Quiet on the Western Front, she stood up and walked towards the Radio room. Rounding the corner she nearly ran into Lebeau.
"Oh sorry!" She exclaimed.
"No need. I was coming to get you." Lebeau replied.
"Oh?"
"Yes I was wondering if you could help me track down some of our agents in France. Le Colònel is still missing."
"Does that mean you found the rest of your men?"
"Yes. The little cheapskates are lounging around in England, and a boat to America!" Lebeau's tone of voice caused Lene to smile.
"Well if you have ever had food in England, you know that they probably wish they were back here, eating yours."
"True. That will teach them to escape to England without me." Both of them grinned.
"Yes I will help you. I know only a few members there, but I have a contact with a man in the British Army fighting near there."
"May I ask who?"
"His name is Group Leader Crittendon. A friend of my father's. A very nice man…just…don't put him in charge of anything."
"I don't understand."
"Hope you never do." She smiled and rolled her eyes remembering some of the things her father's friend has done. "Now let's see if we can track down your Colonel so I can finally get out of this tunnel, deliver the information, and get away from all these handsome young men."
"You'll miss us."
"I won't know till I leave!" Laughing, Lene and Lebeau headed towards Kinch's radio.
* * * * *
Olsen was living the life of luxury. He was eating three square meals a day, sleeping in a soft bed, and for the most part getting to do what he wanted. He had never had such a good time in his life! I love the Americans! If all I had to do was get captured by my own side to end up living like a king, I would have done is sooner! He laughed to himself.
Sitting down at a table, he pulled out a piece of paper from the kit the Americans had given his when they boarded the ship. She starred down at the piece of paper and tried to think of what to write.
Dear Mom, It's your son here. The one fighting the Germans, remember me? Well I have some news for you that may shock your socks off. I've been captured. I know you know this already, but well…I've been captured again…by the Americans. No, no I'm no traitor. Far from it. But well, one thing led to other, and well, I'm currently on a steamer home. It's not quite how I planned it, but at least I'll be close by! And maybe you can come visit me. I'm not sure where I'll be held yet, but I'm sure the Red Cross will notify you...I think. If not I'll notify you of where I am. Unless you can finally prove to them that I'm not a German colonel; (though I must admit the promotion has been nice). And well what I mean by that is, I was caught in kraut uniform…that of a colonel, and, um…
Olsen looked down at what he had written. It sounded ridiculous. Sighing, he crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Looking around the room of the library, he noticed a door he hadn't seen before. Getting up he crossed over to it and opened it. There was a staircase. Looking up, it seemed that it lead up to the wireless. He silently crept up the stairs, and seeing there was no one around manning it, he jotted a note and stuck it in the pile of telegrams to be sent out. He rushed back down the stairs, and headed to the kitchen. He might as well make the best of an unusual situation!
* * * * *
Hogan knew he was being unjustly held in the cooler. The night guard knew it as well. However speaking out would mean trouble for the poor guard, since he was guarding a kraut, a dirty, rotten kraut, their enemy. Yet, he felt sorry for man being held against his will, when the Geneva Convention was deliberately created to avoid this injustice. The guard felt for this poor man. Like him, he was simply a pawn, not like those generals who create wars. The guard sighed, it pained him to see anyone, anyone locked up, because if their rolls were reversed, how would he feel?
The guard paced outside of Hogan's door and chanced a glance inside. Seeing the man was awake, he paused momentary outside the door and throw in a tiny sack, about the size of his fist. Then he continued walking.
Hogan starred at the ceiling. He had always wanted to visit Russia, see Moscow and Stalingrad, but this is not exactly the way he pictured it. He could hear the guard pacing the door outside his window, and there was a tiny, PLOP, of something hitting the ground. Sitting up he walked over and there was a small sack. Opening it he found a note written in French, and two pieces of buttered toast. Hogan nearly leaped with joy. He read the message ten times before he could sit back down and eat the bread.
"À tout à l'heure! (See you soon !)" Soon! But…how soon ? The last thing Hogan wanted was for his men to arrive and he was already shipped off to some POW camp in Siberia. It was one thing to joke to Klink and Schultz about it, to get them to play into his hands, but to actually, actually be sent…the idea was terrifying. And if I had to spend another few nights here thinking about it, I'm going to be a candidate for the funny farm when they arrive. Hogan sat down on the bunk again. He was just envisioning his future under 10 feet of snow when he heard voices echoing down the hall.
"-yes, all of these are to be shipped to England and then to America." The voice of Colonel SS could be heard. It caused the hairs of Hogan's neck to stand up. He never thought his side could be so cruel and unjust, or that he could loath someone so much.
"What I couldn't give to be shipped back to the states." Hogan heard another voice. It sounded familiar. "You said you had a kraut that came in with information?"
"Yes, a Oberst Hermann. A real funny bone. Claims he's some spy, that our side planted. A likely story. I'm giving him as a present to the Russians."
"How thoughtful. I do so hope you gift-wrap him." The second man laughed, and the sound drew closer.
"Havin' fun in there Fritz?" Colonel SS's face appeared in between the bars.
"Oh it's quite cosy. I was thinking of moving in here permanently."
"Always the funny man."
"Everyone needs an identity." Hogan retorted. Suddenly a second face appeared.
"Robert?!"
"Michael?!"
"Robert?!"
"Michael?!"
"Robert…what, what are you doing in there!" Mike couldn't believe his eyes.
"You…you know this kraut?" Colonel SS's mouth dropped open.
"Know him? Are you kidding! This is Colonel Robert Hogan! The Colonel Robert Hogan! Creator of Lunch-Losing-Loops! Get him out of there! NOW!" Michael smiled as the General ran to get a guard with a key.
"You always had a way with people, Mike." Hogan crossed to the door, as a guard came back and unlocked it.
"Man, Robby. You must have one hell of a story to end up here. I knew you were taken captive…but I thought it was by the Germans…not the Americans." He smiled at his old friend.
"Well, everyone needs a change in perspective." Hogan slapped his old friend on the back.
"I guess…but I didn't think being captured by the your own side was on the list."
"Well to each his own. But I owe you a drink for getting me outta there."
"Make it a double and you got a deal. Come-on, let's get you out of that ridiculous costume." The two friends walked down to the exit of the cooler and started their way back to Colonel Steven's office. Colonel Steven was nearly biting the heals of the two friends, thoroughly confused, and now thoroughly terrified for his career.
"One thing though, Michael." Hogan stopped walking, causing Colonel Stevens to nearly bump into them.
"Anything, Robby."
"I need to find my men…"
* * * * *
Carter walked with Emil Hase, another prisoner, and two guards from the lorry towards the POW camp commander's office. Carter was nervous, but at the same time felt like this is where he belonged, that he had spent some time before behind barbed wire, but that's silly, he thought, only criminals and prisoners of war are behind barbed wire. Maybe I was a guard?
The five of them walked up the steps and entered the one-roomed office. A man in his mid-fifties looked up from his desk when the four of them entered.
"Sir! Three new prisoners just released from hospital."
"Thank you, James. You and Smith can wait outside." The commander answered.
"Thank you, sir." James and Smith left the building, leaving Carter, Hase, the other prisoner, and the commander alone.
"Welcome to England. You three are now prisoners of war. This is a temporary stop before you arrive at your final destination. I am Group Leader Henry Dover. I am a fair man, and as long as you behave yourself, we will get along smashingly while you are under my supervision, don't and well…you will see I can be a harsh man. I understand you were both captured by the Americans, well, as much as I admire our cousins across the sea, you will find us a little more cultured. Though," he stroked his chin and shifted his eyes towards the ceiling thinking, "the Americans do make some smashing tea…when they don't throw it in the river. Alas I digress. There will be no escaping, you can both be, and will be, shot on sight if we find you decided to try, and we always know when you do. We have all the cultural amenities while you are here, and you and your fellow Jerries will be allowed to have political talks, and you are allowed to greet them with your version of military curtsies. Now. Here," he handed them a copy of the Geneva Convention written in German, "if you have any questions the answers will be in this book. Also there is a liaison between you Jerries and we English. See him if you have any questions. The Red Cross packages also have arrived yesterday, you three will each receive one. You are both assigned to hut five," he said pointing at Hase and Carter, then pointing at the third man, "and you hut twenty-two. Roll Call in the morning, and in the evening. If you have any more questions see your liaison. Now I am a busy man, so you are dismissed." He sat back down. Carter and Hase looked at each other, shrugged, and walked out of the building. They looked around, and figured hut five should be in-between huts four and six. Noticing the hut in front of them was number twenty-one, they started their search.
The pair had gotten no more than 50 meters when Carter felt a rock hit is back. Spinning around he saw five Germans walking towards them.
"Verräter. Ihr liebt die Engländer. Ihr seid gar keine richtige nazis. Verdammte Tommys! (Traitor. You both speak English. Neither of you are true nazis. Damned Tommys!)" The widest of the three yelled.
„Was? Du spinnst! Wir sind stolze nazis! (What? You're crazy! We are proud nazis!)"
„Dieser hier (This on ehere)," he pointed at Carter, „Er ist gar kein Deutscher! (He's not even German) You don't understand German do you! I heard a nurse talking about you!" The tallest of the pair shoved Carter, knocking him to the ground.
"Doch! Er ist Deutscher! Lass ihn in Ruhe! (You're wrong! He is German! Leave him alone!)" Hase yelled, pulling Carter up. The same German kicked Carter in the belly, causing him to double over.
"Du bist auch Verräter! (You are also a traitor!)" The last member of the group challenging them yelled. Then he turned on Hase and socked him in the face, causing his nose to start spurting blood.
Carter regained his breath, and stood up, grabbing the German who was now strangling Hase and managed to tackle him to the ground. The moment both of them landed, another member of the ground kicked Carter off, and starting smacking his head.
Carter could see stars, and when his hearing had a moment to readjust, he heard a crowd gathering, egging the attackers on. He hurt all over, someone was kicking his back, while another punched his face. The seconds felt like centuries. Carter tried to fight back, but there was too many of them. Some of the crowd had entered the fight and was now attacking both Carter and Hase. Finally, he heard new shouting. This shouting he could understand, and finally after Carter believed this would be his last few moments on Earth, the attackers stopped. The guards had pulled them off of him.
Carter laid there, dazed and bleeding. He felt two people pick him up, and carry him to a bunk in the barracks. Looking through his swollen eyes, he saw that there was a camp medic hovering over him, and talking to the guards. A moment later one of the guards came back with a cloth full of ice. The medic applied it to Carter's face. It felt nice and cool, and started to take the pain away, although his whole body ached. The medic was talking to him. However Carter could only pick out a few words and phrases, before he closed his eyes, letting the man take care of his wounds.
He awoke some hours later to find himself on a truck. It was dark outside. Cater tried to lift his head, but found he was too weak. Inside he turned his head to better view the man sitting next to him. The man turned and smiled at Carter.
"Hey, you're awake!" Carter identified the man as American, "Good. You gave us a right ol' scare there buddy. We thought we was gonna lose you."
"Wha? Where, where am I?" Carter's mouth felt swollen, and he found it difficult to form words through the dried blood and his injured throat.
"You're on your way home as a matter of fact. Boy was that camp commander ever furious when he found out you was American! He said it ain't no right for a American ta be in a POW camp. No sir! He had ya taken outta your hut the second he found out that you ain't no kraut! Called us he did. And now we is takin' you back to that cosy little stalag of yours."
"Stal-ag?"
"Why sure! You ain't no ordinary prisoner I found out! No Sir! Colonel Hogan would be right sore if you weren't returned. Please tell 'im "hello" by the way. I was one-uh the first downed fliers he got outta there. And boy, am I ever grateful."
"Downed flier?"
"Why sure! Ya don't remember? How hard did ya get hit in the head?"
"That's what I'm wondering. My memory has been on the fritz for a week now. I mean I can remember some things, but not everything, ya know? It's like those old movie cameras, the ones that blink, only it's more dark then the movie film. Well not the movie film, but my memories ya know?"
"That's rough. By don't worry, once you is safe back under the care of Colonel Hogan I'm sure everything will come back to ya. You just rest easy now. We won't be there for at least 'nother day." Carter nodded at the man's words, causing the room to spin, he turned his head so he was starring at the ceiling of the truck. He sighed. If he wasn't a German, but an American, and was helping downed fliers out of Germany…then how much more didn't he know about himself? Wish I could just look myself up in the encyclopaedia, that would be so much easier, than putting my identify back like a puzzle. Carter closed his eyes, trying to ignore how much pain he was in. Suddenly his eyes flew open.
"Emil! What happened to Emil?!"
"Emil? Who's Emil?"
"My friend! My friend the German!"
"Look buddy. Our orders were to rescue you. Not some real kraut."
"He's my friend. We can't leave him there. They were trying to kill him!"
"Look, calm down. If he's in danger, then he will be separated from the other krauts there. It's policy at least with us Americans to separate harden and from more liberal krauts. He'll be safe. Close your eyes, and don't worry." The man smiled at Carter trying to reassure him. However, Carter wasn't so sure.
