Day, night… not much difference between the two this far underground. The passageway the prisoners were clearing for themselves was far from the standard roomy venue everyone was used to. No, this was strictly utilitarian… just the bare minimum amount of space required to get men and supplies back and forth. Later… much later, if the men had anything to say about it… they could go back and clean it up, get it closer to the state it had been in before the Gestapo had shown up and thrown a monkey wrench into their routine.

The long-awaited moment finally arrived when a shovel bit into dirt and sunk halfway up the handle when it met no resistance on the other side. Kinch was the lucky man… as well as the winner of the betting pool. Amidst a wave of cheers that lacked something in energy but nothing in sincerity, a small hole opened up, and with everyone falling on it with everything they had, it was soon wide enough to allow passage to the other side.

It looked to be clear, the twenty or thirty more feet of full-width tunnel from here to the tree stump exit, but Hogan had learned long ago not to take anything for granted in this war. "I'll check it out," he said, taking a lamp in hand and starting to climb through the opening. "Be right back."

He was as sick of the sight of these dirt walls as anybody else by now, but Hogan had to admit as he made his way along the remaining few yards to the exit that they were also beautiful, in a way. Tempers had been burning fast and hot, and it wasn't just because of all the extra hard work… there had also been a touch of old-fashioned claustrophobia affecting the boys as well, putting everyone on edge. Lately any minor difference of opinion had seemed more significant than it normally would have. A simple request to pass the salt had resulted in a dust-up just last night, when their temperamental French chef had taken offense at what he took as Carter's implication that everyone's dinner wasn't already perfectly seasoned, and then normally easy-going Andrew had insisted that he was entitled to his own opinion instead of meekly backing down as he most often did. It really did feel entirely different being in here when they knew they couldn't come and go as they pleased, effectively cut off from all life outside the camp. It had been hard on everyone.

Hogan scaled the ladder to the tree stump hatch and lifted it just an inch or two, barely far enough so he could see what was going on. A little bit of new snow had fallen the night before. No guards in sight. Hogan could see the gate, the barracks, the water tower, Klink's quarters, just like always. Nothing had changed. Everything was right there, just as it had been before, exactly as it had always looked from this vantage point before they'd been cut off.

Yet, something was different. He sensed that he would never be able to take this for granted ever again, not for a single hour, for the duration of the war. The camp was so close, but it even smelled different out here… like tall pines and fresh snow, not like bedding in need of an airing, exhaust from the workshop at the motor pool, and sauerkraut from the sergeants' mess. Out here, it smelled like freedom.

Hogan secured the hatch and returned to the place where the two half-tunnels had become whole again. He had never claimed to be a philosopher, but he might have been tempted to share some of his observations with the fellows… had any of them been awake. It looked as though they'd all sat down on the dirt floor to wait for him to come back, and although he'd been gone barely five minutes, each and every one of them was sitting there, back to the wall and sound asleep.

Well, they'd earned it. Hogan headed for the radio room. Maybe Tiger was in a listening mood.

oo 0 oo

"Guess which one's real."

Carter held up two red-wrapped cylinders with string fuses sticking out of the tops, one in each hand. To the average eye, they were nearly identical.

Hogan nodded in approval as he took a closer look. "That's a great-looking fake, Carter. I'm impressed."

"Which one?" he grinned eagerly. "Go on, guess."

"You'd better know," Hogan told him. "It doesn't matter so much if I can't tell." He had the plans Tiger had originally brought in spread out on the desk in his office… and what was more, he once again had Tiger standing by his side. Well… he was a thorough man, and after all, he did want to make sure the tunnel still worked perfectly, in both directions… what better way to test it? "So here's the plan." He put his finger on the intersection of tunnel and bunker. "Newkirk and Bluebird will take a block out of the bunker wall here, remove the dynamite and caps to be used on the Reismacher Bridge, then replace the real stuff with Carter's fakes. Having to take the time to steal back our own stuff is making for a longer war, but I think you all appreciate the irony."

"We're ready," Bluebird confirmed.

Newkirk nodded in agreement. "Piece of cake."

"Be careful not to damage the block; it has to go right back in again when you're finished. We'll get back in there later and get a full inventory so Carter can make up a complete stock of replacements."

"And then we just keep switching the dummies for the live ammo until it's all out," LeBeau nodded.

"Which'll give the Krauts a nasty surprise when they try to use any of it," added Carter. "You don't get much of an explosion lighting up a roll of cardboard filled with shredded long-johns."

"Ah, ouithat can be embarrassing under certain circumstances. Like if it happens in the middle of a war or something."

"They shouldn't be playing with matches anyway," Hogan said. "That's Carter's job."

Carter held up the two cylinders again. "You sure you don't want to guess which one's which, sir?"

Hogan was spared having to gently remind his overeager munitions man, who sometimes displayed a little too much pride in his work, that they had a few other more urgent things on their agenda than guessing games, when the speaker on the coffee-pot receiver crackled to life with the sound of a door opening and closing. "I thought Klink was in his quarters."

"He is," LeBeau nodded. "I saw him go in there about five minutes ago and he ordered Langenscheidt on guard duty not to disturb him. That always means he's going to take a nap."

Then came the sound of the telephone receiver in the office being lifted. "This is Major Hochstetter speaking."

"The Kommandant oughta be more careful," Newkirk said. "When he don't shut that door tight, just look at all the vermin what crawl in."

"Jaconnect me with the munitions depot at Kleinburg."

Hogan's eyebrow went up. "I wonder what that's all about."

"Ich möchte mit Kapitän Müller sprechen."

"If he's callin' collect I'd be surprised if anybody'd take it," Newkirk said.

"Guten Tag, Kapitän. Hochstetter here. I want… list… in…" Static poured out of the speaker, garbling the one-sided conversation.

"Isn't this thing fixed yet?" Hogan demanded. "It's just a loose wire, for Pete's sake."

"Sorry, Colonel, but we've been so busy with the digging…" LeBeau started.

"All right, all right… where's Kinch?"

"He's in the radio room; shall I go get him?"

Carter picked up the pot and knocked it against the edge of Hogan's desk. "This worked the last time."

"… delivery… urgent…" And now the static was even louder.

"Well, it's not working this time… stick to explosives," Hogan told him.

Bluebird took a look into the top of the pot. "Hang on." She took the chewing gum out of her mouth, pulled off a small wad and reached down through the top of the pot to stick it onto the troublesome connection at the very bottom.

"Yes, Captain, I want the complete list of all the explosives you've arranged to deliver to the new munitions bunker here at Stalag 13."

In response to the surprised looks she was getting from those around the table, she simply shrugged. "I'm in the radio room a lot… I watch Kinch when he fixes things."

Newkirk's expression wasn't so much one of surprise as distaste. "That's revoltin'."

"Is it working?" she challenged.

"At the moment," he had to admit, albeit grudgingly.

"Then don't knock it, Bigmouth."

"Ja… read it to me, and I will check it against the bill of lading. I want to make sure everything is accounted for. This initiative is too important to leave anything to chance." There was a pause, then he continued. "Six dozen sticks of TNT… ja… one hundred detonator caps…"

Carter grabbed a pencil and began to take it all down. "How 'bout that? We won't have to take an inventory; he's reading us the whole list."

"He's gonna spoil us," Hogan said.

"You trust what this major says?" Tiger asked with a certain amount of reserve. "Are you sure that is wise?"

"Sure, why not? He's never lied to us yet… well, not when he didn't know we were listening, he hasn't." He gave her a reassuring smile. "I figure it always makes sense to take the easy throws that come our way… they'll start pitching curveballs and change-ups again soon enough."

The office door opened and Crittendon joined them. "Greetings, chaps."

Hogan's smile vanished. "See what I mean?"

Whatever Crittendon might have had in mind when he had entered Hogan's office, he seemed to forget all about it when he saw Tiger. "Well… hello again…"

She nodded politely. "Bonjour, Colonel."

"Oh, I say… you are French, aren't you…?" He actually appeared rather flustered, not a look that they were used to seeing on the by-the-book officer. "And I must say… dashed pretty, to boot."

"Colonel, Tiger is one of our allies," Hogan reminded him. "And I think we'd like to keep it that way. Okay?"

Crittendon immediately switched to a sotto voce tone that he imagined was discreetly man-to-man… as usual, though, it escaped him that everyone in the room was plenty close enough to overhear. "I do beg your pardon, old boy… fact is, though, I'm finding myself somewhat driven to distraction… other than this delightful creature I haven't so much as glimpsed a young lady in quite some time, as it happens…"

"Well, that's a real shame, sir," Newkirk spoke up loudly, giving Bluebird a chummy punch in the arm. "In'nit, Hugh?" The look of outrage on her face was priceless… all these months working out of this stalag she'd wanted nothing more than to be treated like just another one of the lads and would accept nothing less, but now that someone actually took her for one, it seemed she didn't like it one bit. And that was okay with Newkirk. Bluebird was almost as much fun to wind up as LeBeau was, and sooner or later she always gave back as good as she got, which made it sporting. She was all right, that one. Worth her salt and then some.

The door opened again and Schultz entered. "Colonel Hogan, I…" His wide blue eyes found Bluebird first. "I…" Then they moved a few feet to the left and stopped on Tiger. "I…" Finally, against any advice he would have given himself if he had been capable of thinking straight at that point… which he wasn't… Schultz turned his head again and recognized Colonel Crittendon. "I see nothing! No-thing!" He was out the door so fast it was almost as if he had never come through it in the first place.