Carter hunched beside Major Cole, scanning the brush and trees. Snow spun around them in lazy dances, lifted by the wind constantly blowing. Major Cole peered through the binoculars then pointed. A slender figure walked their way, clad in a black overcoat. Major Cole stepped forward and Carter gripped his pistol tightly. As the figure solidified into a man, he spoke in perfect German. "Die Sterne sind hell heute." ("The stars are bright tonight.")
"Aber der Wind kalt." ("But the winds are cold.")
"Good evening, Major Cole." The man's gaze shifted to Carter. "Sergeant Carter?" Carter nodded. "Group Captain Wellston."
"This way." Major Cole gestured.
They walked quickly back to camp. In the warmer tunnels, the newcomer took off his coat and shook his head. "Bit brisk tonight. Let's try this again. I'm Group Captain Wellston."
"Major Cole and yes, this is Sergeant Carter."
Wellston clasped Major Cole's hand and then Carter's, a smile lighting his plain face. "A true pleasure."
"How did you know?" Carter asked. "That it was me, sir?"
"I had descriptions of all of you." Wellston said, shoving his damp hair back. Bright brown eyes scanned the tunnel and Major Cole and Carter. Carter resisted the urge to squirm. Those were the keenest brown eyes he'd ever seen. In all other ways Wellston seemed average. Brown hair, pleasant, ordinary features. "Where are the other men?"
"Sergeant Kinchloe is in the radar room. Corporals Newkirk and LeBeau are out delivering a package."
"Good. It's a honor to finally meet you, Sergeant Carter."
"Gee, thanks, sir. Would you like some coffee?"
"That would be wonderful, thank you. The Major will show me the tunnels."
"Yes, sir."
Major Cole mentally sighed. Now what?
"How are they?"
Major Cole blinked at Wellston's question. "The men?"
"Yes. Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau and Kinchloe."
"They're fine."
Wellston nodded. "Walk with me, Major." The two walked towards the cooler. "Major, my mission was to come here to discuss private matters but mainly to review the men. Frankly, your request to add different men to the team is startling."
"I think it could expand the use of the team."
"I noted your requests were all Americans." The Englishman's eyes gleamed.
Major Cole nodded. "They're good men, trustworthy. Solid."
"And your current command crew?"
"They'll still be used, of course. Kinch is a good radio man and Carter a decent explosives man. Newkirk and LeBeau have skills as well."
"So why do you need more?"
Cole had expected this. "Thompson is a sharpshooter and Rolston has special arms training."
"And? Do either speak or read German?"
"Rolston has some basic German training."
Wellston nodded. "I see. I'll meet with your requested men. And Hogan's men, too, of course."
"They're doing well," Cole said. "Is London displeased?"
"They're curious. Major, after the death of Colonel Hogan, we all debated on whether this unit should continue. I doubted anyone could duplicate Colonel Hogan's success. You've done good things."
"Colonel Hogan's work is impressive," Cole agreed. "He was not indispensable."
"Colonel Hogan would have agreed. Robert always undervalued himself." Wellston smiled. "We were friends, flew together now and then." His gaze raked Cole. The Major understood he was being measured.
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
"This way."
Kinch was used to strangers appearing in the tunnels. When Major Cole appeared with another man, he merely smiled.
"Sergeant Kinchloe, this is Group Captain Wellston."
"Hello, Sergeant. It's an honor." The stranger clasped Kinch's hand warmly with none of the reluctance to which Kinch was accustomed.
"Group Captain, sir." They shook. Carter appeared as if by magic and handed a mug to Wellston.
"Thank you, Sergeant."
"I would have made tea, sir, but we're out at the moment."
"Quite all right." He sipped slowly. A little while later, a pair of wet, muddied figures joined them, the smaller one handing Major Cole a wrapped package.
"From the Underground, Major. La Tigre says it contains the radio parts we requested."
"Thank you, Corporal. Corporals LeBeau, Newkirk, this is Group Captain Wellston."
"A pleasure, gentleman." Wellston reached out and shook the mens' hands. Both men gave him polite greetings yet he could see the curiosity mixed with wariness. "You're a bit damp."
"It's soggy," Newkirk said. LeBeau rolled his eyes.
"Oui. Soggy is a word. How about soaking?"
Cole jerked his head. "Go dry off and clean up."
Wellston frowned slightly as the two men left. Carter watched the Group Captain, clearly dying to ask questions but knowing he shouldn't. Wellston finished his coffee and smiled slightly. "You'd like Carter, Nigel. He's eager, curious as a cat. One of the best hearted men I've ever met. And Kinch? My right hand. Holds the place together and has a terrific sense of humor. LeBeau can make sawdust taste like steak and is quick and fast."
"And Newkirk?"
Hogan had laughed, face lighting. "The quintessential rebel. Clever and as sharp as they come. They're the best men anyone could ask for. They'd follow me to Hell if I asked."
"And? So what's the problem?"
"The problem is, they'd follow me into Hell." And Hogan had sighed, shaking his head. "I've asked things from them no person should ever ask from their men."
"Robert, they're volunteers. And obviously they want to follow you."
Hogan had frowned. "Someday, Nigel, they're going to want payback. Heaven help me when they do."
He'd volunteered for this mission, to fulfill a promise to an old friend. He actually was amazed at so much concern from higher ups. Robert Hogan's men obviously were on peoples' minds. Group Captain Roberts had even looked him up, demanded in his own quiet way that he make sure Hogan's men were being treated decently. From a simple missions to one far more than anyone suspected. Wellston knew he was an acute man, well rehearsed in the quirks and oddities of behavior. It had molded him into the superb infiltrator and agent he was yet his dedication also set him apart. He'd promised Robert Hogan if anything happened to him, that he'd care for his command crew and Wellston didn't break promises. So now he was here.
After several days observing like a ghost, flitting from tunnels to barracks, he decided to step it up a bit more. In many ways he was troubled. He wasn't overly impressed with Major Cole. The man was trying, true, but Wellston knew Cole lacked the lively imagination Hogan had possessed, and also Hogan's wacky humor. Cole was a steady man, cared for the men of Stalag 13, but he didn't seem to know all the nuances of leadership of such a diverse crew. For example, he definitely seemed to prefer being with the Americans in the camp. Wellston also didn't like how quiet and wary the command crew seemed around their leader. None of Hogan's men had ever been described as shy. Yet, the four he was seeing were often silent. One by one, he cornered the men, talked to them about their new leader and revealed how highly they were thought of both by Colonel Hogan and London. Kinch came first.
"Major Cole's all right." The impassive face revealed little emotion. "It's hard to replace the Colonel and we've only been working together what, two, two and a half months now? It'll be fine."
"Colonel Hogan spoke very highly of you," Wellston said. "He recommended you for officer's training in case you wished to go on in the military. General Seymour of the US Army said he would back you."
"Really?" Kinch's eyes widened in surprise. Wellston nodded. "Wow. Thank you, sir. I don't know what to say."
"I had nothing to do with it. You earned it, Sergeant. I know Colonel Hogan utterly trusted you. You were his right hand man." Now I know why. Calm, cool, bloody stoic. Pity he's not English. We could definitely find a place for him. Use him in SIS, that's for sure.
Kinch smiled wistfully. "I miss him," he said softly.
"So do I," Wellston murmured.
The talk drifted to different subjects. Wellston found Sergeant Kinchloe reserved but open to talking once they'd established some common ground. He certainly didn't have the suspicion that LeBeau had, regarding him with distrustful eyes. "I'm here to observe, that's it, Corporal," Wellston said.
"Observe," LeBeau snorted. "You are here to see how we listen to Cole."
"Is the Major good to you?" Hmm. Suspicious and angry. Yet, at least he's talking some.
"He is a typical officer."
"He's not Colonel Hogan."
"Non. He is not. Mon Colonel was special."
"Has he treated you poorly?"
"He is simply thoughtless. He cares nothing for France or the French people. He treats those he dislikes poorly and does not see why people act like they do. He made Newkirk spend 15 days in the cooler because he does not like Newkirk's 'attitude'." Loyal to a fault. You were right, Robert. They would have followed you into Hell.
"Newkirk has an attitude?" Wellston raised an eyebrow. The quintessential rebel. But then why would Robert ask what he did?
"Oui," LeBeau admitted. "Just a little. But Colonel Hogan could always work with it. Even when we all first started working together, Colonel Hogan understood us. He could cajole anyone. Even Newkirk." Well,, LeBeau's honest. Won't lie about his friend. Yet, I have to wonder what else these men aren't telling me.
Wellston nodded. "Major Cole has a difficult task." LeBeau shrugged. "Colonel Hogan wanted to send word to de Gaulle about your work." LeBeau's eyes brightened at the General's name. "He couldn't say much because of the nature of your work but your name will be given to the General and the French government for a commendation."
"Mon Colonel was always thoughtful," LeBeau said quietly, eyes bright with tears.
Sergeant Carter was effusive compared to Kinch and LeBeau, almost bouncing in his chair. Wellston hid a smile. Truly, he liked this young man, so full of hope and brimming with enthusiam. Yet, he already knew the eager beaver image was simply the tip of the iceberg. This one's trouble but in a good way. Everyone sees the goofball but how many see the intelligent spy? I'll have to remember him. He could be very useful in the future. "Colonel Hogan? He's the greatest! I mean, he was. He treated us all really well, like we were special. Major Cole, he's all right. He's just got a tough job. He needs to get to know us. Colonel Hogan got to know us, all of us. He'd play cards with us and everything."
Wellston smiled. "He recommended you go on and teach chemistry at university. Said you have unique qualifications."
"He did? Gosh, that's swell! I'd love to. I was going to go home and marry my girlfriend Mary Jane, only she's not my girlfriend any more. I thought about staying in the Army but I haven't seen Indiana for awhile. Or Bull Frog. That's in North Dakota and I go there every summer to visit my relatives." Carter paused.
"So you like Major Cole?"
"Sure. I like everyone. Except the Krauts and even a few of them are OK."
"Major Cole and the rest of the command crew?"
"They get along. We've had a few rough spots but it'll work out."
"Even Corporal Newkirk?" "Heck, Newkirk can be stubborn but he's great at his job. We all are."
"Could you send him to me?"
"You got it. Sir."
Newkirk appeared silently, all cold, green eyes and a thin smile with no warmth. "Group Captain," he said.
"Corporal Newkirk. I'm glad to see you." Wellston found it hard to reconcile the laughing, poker playing jester he'd seen in the barracks with the mistrustful man in front of him now. Only the semi-hidden twist in the smile was the same, someone who laughed and joked knowing it was all for naught. He's not going to give me an inch. It's almost frightening how composed he is.
"What do you want?" Polite, military protocol but no friendliness.
"I'm trying to see how Major Cole is working out. And if you men need anything."
"He's 'ere. That's about it."
"I know Colonel Hogan is greatly missed."
"That's bleedin' obvious."
"He had a request in for you to become his aide after the war." Newkirk jerked, pupils widening. Wellston cocked his head at the startled expression, watched the mask slip. Huh. That's surprising. "You didn't know?"
"Colonel Hogan mentioned it once," Newkirk replied, voice soft. His face gentled, the mocking smile fading, and he looked away, studied the walls as if seeing something else. "Thank you, sir. For telling me."
"You're welcome." Newkirk stood. "Corporal?"
"I told you what you wanted." The coolness reentered his voice. "Sir."
"Why would you want to work for Hogan? Especially if he never asked you."
Newkirk shrugged and Wellston noted how slender the man appeared. "He was my mate," Newkirk quietly said. "I would 'ave said yes."
He left, shoulders hunched. Wellston watched him thoughtfully. After awhile, he softly drummed his fingers on the desk. Tonight the whole crew would go out to blow a munitions dump. He'd wait in the tunnels. contact London then and tell them how things were going. They can keep going. Major Cole has to pay attention to them, however. I don't like how adrift they seem.
"Group Captain?"
Wellston smiled at Kinch. "Hello, Sergeant."
"Can I ask a favor, sir?"
Wellston jerked internally. "Of course. Please sit." The radioman sat, apprehension evident on his face.
"You told me Colonel Hogan recommended me for officer's training. Carter mentioned something about a university."
"Yes, Colonel Hogan commended all of the command crew, had special requests for them."
Kinch grinned. "That's the Colonel. Can I ask what about LeBeau and Newkirk?"
"They'd be taken care of," Wellston said, inwardly baffled. "Corporal LeBeau's name is being sent on to de Gaulle and Corporal Newkirk was to be Colonel Hogan's aide after the war."
If black men could pale, Kinch did at Wellston's words. Wellston grasped Kinch's arm. "Sergeant?"
"Nothing, sir. It's just--you cleared up something for me, sir." Kinch looked Wellston in the eyes and smiled weakly. "I really miss the Colonel. I never knew a better man or leader."
"He'll be remembered, Sergeant."
"Yes, sir." Kinch stood up. "Thank you."
"Anytime, Sergeant."
