Brief note: this chapter has been reposted after a valid comment by Abracadabra. I had taken out a chunk about Kestrel, now I've put it back again.

Chapter 9- Unwelcome But Expected News

"Raus! Raus! Everybody up!" Schultz yelled as he stormed into the barracks a couple of hours later.

Around the barracks men groaned and grumbled as they woke from deep sleep. The normal collection of morning complaints sounded around the barracks.

Schultz whacked the side of Newkirk's bunk, making the exhausted man jump. "Everybody up! Roll call!"

"Schultz, cut that out!" Newkirk moaned at him.

Carter swung his legs out from under his blanket and started to pull on his still dirty coverall. "Couldn't you let us sleep in just this once, Schultz?" he asked.

"Oh, Carter, you should not have tried to escape," Schultz said, "The Big Shot was very upset, VERY upset and when that Captain von Stalhein said he couldn't throw you in the cooler. Oh my! Why did you have to do it?" He sounded so pained that Carter patted him on the shoulder.

"Would it help if we promised not to do it again?" he asked.

"It would if I believed you," Schultz said.

"Well, what can you expect, Schultzy?" Newkirk asked, sliding down from his bunk and finding his uniform. His right shoulder complained a little from the wrenching Kestrel had given it just a few hours before, "With that those ruddy great holes in the fence and all, are you surprised if we try to make a break for it?"

"No, I guess not, but don't do it again, the Big Shot has issued orders that anyone caught within 10 feet of the gaps in the fence is to be shot on sight," Schultz said.

"Shot on sight?" Newkirk protested, several others also raised their objections. "Blimey, anyone would think this was a bloody prison camp."

"Morning, Schultz," Hogan said as he breezed out of his office and went straight to the stove to pour himself a cup of coffee. "How's the Bald Eagle this morning?"

"Colonel Hogan, please don't call him that," Schultz objected, "He's not happy with you, not at all! You should have stopped Carter and Lebeau trying to escape last night."

"I couldn't Schultz," Hogan said mildly.

"Why not?"

"Because I was trying to escape myself. You see, I had a date with this really pretty girl who..."

"Don't tell me!" Schultz cut him off quickly, "I don't want to know. Everybody outside for roll call in five minutes." He left quickly before he was forced to hear something he didn't want to.

Hogan yawned into his coffee and rubbed his eyes. He was tired. They were all tired. With days spent repairing the barracks and camp before the next storm hit and nights spent digging out the tunnels or dodging patrols in the forest, none of them had had more than a couple of hours sleep in any given day. He gulped down the rest of the brew, wishing for the thousandth time that it was real coffee and actually did something to help wake him up.

"Alright, everyone, lets go see what our beloved Kommandant has in store for us today," he said to the assembled men and they all trooped out.

It was still dark outside, but the compound lights were on and chasing away the shadows. All over the camp men were lining up outside their barracks to be counted by their guards, all of them tired and yawning in the chilly morning air. Above, the moon was setting and the stars shone in the clear air.

Outside Barracks 2 Schultz quickly counted his charges, pleased to see that everyone was there, and everyone was who they were supposed to be.

A few minutes later Kommandant Klink strode out of his office. "Repooooorrrtt!" he demanded.

Schultz quickly saluted. "All present and accounted for, Kommandant," he dutifully reported.

"Excellent," Klink said. He tucked his riding crop more firmly under his arm. "Prisoners of Stalag 13, there was an attempted escape last night," he said, raising his voice so at least a few groups of prisoners could hear him directly, for everyone else his words were relayed through the guards. "I am pleased to say that the attempt was unsuccessful and the guilty parties will be punished severely."

A little way down the row from Hogan, Lebeau muttered darkly in French.

"The no-escape record of the camp remains intact and once again proves that this is the toughest POW camp in all of the Third Reich," Klink continued. "From today new security measure will be put in place. Recreation periods are cancelled and all prisoners not assigned to work parties are confined to barracks until further notice. Anyone found outside their barracks without leave will be shot on sight."

That roused the usual protests from the gathered prisoners as the barracks guards relayed the orders to all 20 barracks. Over 400 unhappy men voiced their opinions at once.

"Kommandant, I must protest!" Hogan shouted out across the noise. "There's already over-crowding in several barracks, and now you're going to confine us to quarters?"

"Those are my orders, and they will be carried out to the letter," Klink said, putting all his inconsiderable force of personality behind his words. "Diss-missed!" He flipped the assembled multitude a salute, and went back inside.

All over the camp the guards herded the prisoners back into their barracks.

"Hey, what about breakfast?" Newkirk demanded as he was shoved back towards the door by one of the guards. He wasn't answered. When all the men were inside, the door was barred from the outside.

"That was bloody charming," Newkirk stated and gave the door a vindictive kick.

"Enough of that," Hogan said. "It's not like we weren't expecting it. Let's get our guest up and start planning."

"I'll go," Newkirk volunteered.

"I thought you might," Hogan said, "Just remember what I said last night. Handle with care."

"Yes, sir," he replied flippantly and headed for the tunnel entrance.

Lebeau dug into one of the lockers and pulled out enough stored food stuff so that in their barracks at least the men wouldn't go hungry. There was no way of knowing if they would be allowed to go to the mess hall for what passed for food in the prisoner's kitchen.

Newkirk soon appeared, climbed up through the bunk and reached down to help Kestrel up the last few rungs. Around the barracks the assembled men whistled appreciatively. Kestrel gave them a friendly smile.

"Morning, boys," she greeted them. She received several 'good mornings' back again. She had changed out of her black clothing and was clad in trousers, a knitted turtle-neck sweater, jacket and sturdy walking shoes. Anyone who met her would take her as a young woman off on a terribly healthy hike through the countryside.

Newkirk had a red patch around his left eye which looked like the start of a spectacular shiner.

"What did you do?" Hogan asked him wearily.

"Nothing!" Newkirk protested, "I went to wake her up, and next thing I know I was flat on my backside."

"My fault, Colonel," Kestrel said, "I punched him in the eye before I'd woken up properly. My friends know to shake my foot, not my shoulder."

"You were right, sir, handle with care."

Hogan damped down a towel and handed it to Newkirk who held it gratefully against the side of his face.

"Would you like some coffee, Kestrel?" Lebeau asked, holding out a chipped mug.

She took it and Lebeau filled it with ersatz coffee. "Thanks." She made a small face at the sour taste of the chicory, but drank it anyway.

The crew and Kestrel gathered around the central table for their conference. Several of the other men, not directly involved with the core group headed back to the tunnels to continue digging their way to the cooler.

"Okay, we need a bit of an idea about what's going on here," Hogan said, taking the head of the table. "Situation so far- von Stalhein has Hebblethwaite and has leaked information to the underground and thus to London that Hebblethwaite is in a camp with storm damage, so easy to get into. Unfortunately it's a trap. On his side he has a hostage and he's turned our beloved Stalag into one big snare. On our side we have us," he nodded to the assembly, "And an agent he doesn't know anything about. So far the situation is our favour, apart from the fact that we don't have a working radio. Kestrel, how long do you think it will take Bigglesworth to get here?" Hogan asked.

"Another ridiculous English name," Lebeau muttered. "Who ever heard of someone called 'Bigglesworth'?"

"I'll be pleased if you didn't insult my countrymen, thank you very much," Newkirk replied to Lebeau who returned a friendly sneer then turned an expectant gaze on Kestrel.

"Don't ask me about English names, I'm not British," Kestrel said and shrugged.

"You're not British?" Hogan asked, surprised. "Where are you from?"

Kestrel shook her head. "I'm afraid that's on a need to know basis, but if you are wondering about my loyalties- don't."

"American?" Carter asked.

Kestrel was silent but gave him a look which said exactly nothing.

Hogan let it drop for now, but it didn't stop him from wondering. Not British and she didn't sound American. In fact now that she felt safe her true accent was coming out and he couldn't quiet place it, it didn't seem to be quite one thing or another. "So, how long?"

"I don't know it depends on how quickly the leak reaches him. It may be tonight, it may take a couple of days. I need to get in touch with London and find out," Kestrel said.

"We should have the radio fixed tonight if London gets us the parts on time," Hogan said. "Kinch what's the status of the aerial?"

"Finished installing it last night during the disruptions, Colonel," Kinch reported, "It's back in the flag pole and ready to go once we get the radio fixed."

"Well done, we'll be able to get the news we need. Can you get in touch with Squadron Leader Bigglesworth?" Hogan asked Kestrel.

"Yes, through the Air Ministry and their resident Intelligence liaison, Air Commodore Raymond," Kestrel said. "With any luck Biggles won't have left. If he has that going to make life more difficult."

"Will he try to get in to camp straight away?"

"I don't think so. He's not stupid, far from it. Chances are he will already know about your operation through Raymond, Biggles will have gone to him first."

"For permission?" Hogan asked.

"No, to tell him." Kestrel said with a small snort of laughter and shook her head, "I don't know how he gets away with it, but he does. The difficulty will be stopping the rest of the squadron coming too."

Hogan raised a questioning eye brow. "Sounds like an interesting set up."

"The 666 is a unique squadron within the RAF," Kestrel said, "It's made up of those who don't easily take to the discipline of the standard military structure. They don't exactly follow military procedure to the letter, but they get things done."

"Sounds like fun. In case you don't manage to contact Bigglesworth before he arrives, we'll need to set up surveillance, bring him in through the tunnel before the patrols spot him," Hogan said. A map of the camp was spread out on the table and the damaged fence and barracks were marked. "These routes are going to be left open for easy access into the camp," he said, pointing to two areas. "My guess is that von Stalhein is going to have men posted around in these areas where there is cover, but still a good view of the entry points. Kestrel, you think Bigglesworth won't come in to camp?"

"I don't think so; he'll case the place first, not march straight in."

"Let's hope so. If we need to we'll set up our surveillance posts here, here and here and here," Hogan said, pointing to four areas, two by each entry point. "Grab him before he gets near the fence."

"How about all those ruddy patrols outside the wire?" Newkirk asked.

"Yes, the entry points may be kept clear, but the rest of the woods are going to be crawling with goons," Lebeau added.

"It's going to be a job to keep our guys clear of the Germans," Kinch added.

"And that's assuming that Bigglesworth doesn't get nabbed before he gets close," Newkirk finished.

"It's not going to be easy," Hogan said, "There are far too many factors outside our control. The best option is getting in touch with him before he arrives, but we have to plan for contingencies." Hogan turned to Kestrel who had been studying the map intensely, her whole body tense. "How well do you know Hebblethwaite? Is he likely to talk? About you, I mean."

"I know him very well," Kestrel said, "And no, he's not going to give up his information easily, but no one can hold out for ever."

"We really need to get through to the Cooler and see how he is, and to warn him about what's going on," Hogan said. "The moment he cracks and mentions you, von Stalhein is likely to move him. Realistically he doesn't actually need to be here, just the rumour that he is here."

"That's true," Kestrel said. She was lacing and unlacing her fingers. "I hope von Stalhein hasn't hurt him too badly," she said softly.

"We'll get him out," Hogan promised, "One way or the other."