Olsen's Secret Life
By
Jennaya
"Colonel, how are you feeling, sir?" Olsen's asked, trying to dodge the question as he took a seat by his commanding officer.
The Colonel pushed himself up on the bed and stared hard at Olsen. "Answer the question, Sergeant," he demanded.
"Carter..." he began, then was interrupted.
"What 'appened to Andrew?" Newkirk questioned, carefully sitting up.
"He's going to be fine guys. Last night we were bringing in some medical supplies, when he stepped in hole and sprained his ankle. He'll be all right in a few days," Olsen reassured them, hoping that was all he had to reveal. No such luck.
"Now tell me everything that happened yesterday. Start at the beginning and don't leave anything out," Hogan ordered as he found a more comfortable position.
Olsen swallowed hard as he glanced at the door. Where was Anderson? He should have been here by now! Wilson was not going to be happy, and Olsen didn't want to overburden the Colonel. Hogan cleared his throat loudly expecting an answer.
"What do you know about what happened yesterday, sir?" Olsen asked wondering where to start. Hogan and Newkirk explained they knew about the gunman and the nasty little spider. Olsen told them that London wasn't able to assist with a medical drop, so he went to his outside sources. Hogan didn't ask why London couldn't help, and Olsen wasn't volunteering that information. Kinch could explain that to him.
"Let me guess, Franchetti?" Hogan asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, sir, he was the only one I knew who could get the medication in time," Olsen answered looking down at his hands.
"I trust your judgment. Franchetti wouldn't have been my first choice, but thank you for getting the antidote. As I understand it, I might not be here without it," Hogan said with heartfelt thanks.
"That goes for me too. The meds Wilson's been giving me have made a huge difference," Newkirk said as he stifled a yawn.
A moment later, Anderson entered the building carrying a tray of food. Olsen helped him pass the food out and the four men ate LeBeau's cooking making small talk. Once they'd finished, the medic checked Newkirk's shoulder wound and the Colonel's leg. Both injuries were beginning to heal, but it would be a several days before either patient could be released from the infirmary.
Klink sat behind his desk looking out the side window. It was unusual not to have Hogan barging into his office asking for something or ranting about something going on in camp. Most of the time Klink thought Hogan was just trying to irritate him or he was bored. Klink knew the Senior POW had to be bored all the time. Hogan wasn't the type to handle boredom well. So he became an irritating fixture in Klink's office. To have him so ill made the camp feel out of sorts.
Sighing he pulled out a prisoner injury report, his third in two days. Over the years there had been several severe injuries from men exiting the top bunks. However, there was no way his budget would allow for buying enough wood to make ladders for all the bunks. Then he remembered a request he'd received for a work detail. Pulling the paperwork out from the bottom of his in-basket, he decided to grant the request. The prisoners could use the wood that could be saved to make ladders. It would be a start and as other opportunities presented themselves he'd take advantage of them. Perhaps it would prevent some injuries and be less paperwork for him in the future.
Olsen tried to leave after breakfast, but Hogan wasn't finished with his debriefing yet. Anderson started to object, but the look Hogan gave the medic made him back down. Newkirk was drifting in and out of sleep not paying much attention to the conversation.
"Now what were you not saying about yesterday?" Hogan demanded, deadpanning Olsen.
Olsen swallowed hard before answering. "Wilson met Ghita and they hit it off fabulously. She happily told him about all our visits," Olsen's voice was tinted with annoyance. The Colonel had a smirk on his face knowing how that encounter had gone down. He was sure Wilson would be asking about Ghita for some time.
"What supplies were you able to get from her father and how much did it cost?" Hogan asked. His eyes wanted to close but he refused to give into sleep until he had more answers.
"We went after just the basics but ended up with enough stuff to keep our medics happy for a long time. An entire shipment bound for the frontlines," Olsen looked at Hogan who raised an eyebrow, definitely demanding more. "The Russo family had the antidote and Franchetti setup the meet. Unfortunately things didn't go smoothly and Kinch and I took out two of their thugs."
"That's not great, but it's not the worst either. It might even work in our favor in the long run," Hogan answered looking thoughtful.
"Sir, Bassi showed up. Long story short, Wilson killed him," Olsen explained, worried how that would go over.
"Wilson?" Hogan asked looking surprised. Olsen nodded his head yes. "That changes things a bit."
"I don't think Wilson had ever killed someone before," Olsen said concerned for the medic.
"Has Kinch spoken with him?" Newkirk questioned, rejoining the conversation.
"Yes, he has," Olsen answered. "And he spent the night in here helping Wilson."
"Good. If anyone can help Wilson through that, then Kinch is the man," Newkirk said. His mind was bringing up the first time he'd killed a man. The memory was something he'd never forget, even though it had happened many years before the war broke out.
"That's for sure. Kinch was able to help me after my first death," Olsen remembered with a far off look that he quickly wiped away.
"Thanks for letting me know. I'll talk to Wilson and make sure that Kinch is available for him anytime. That's one of Kinch's hidden talents that I've learned to lean on. Since your cover is in jeopardy, I don't want you outside the wire for a while, until we figure out what the fallout is going to be. Tell Kinch to pass off the other job London wanted done this week to the underground. They can handle it. We're down too many men, and I don't want anyone outside the wire for a few days," Hogan ordered as he lay back down.
Olsen left the infirmary so the patients could get some rest, and pass along the new orders. His mind wondered back to the first time he killed someone. When he flew with his bomber crew, he'd been the navigator, and although they killed people on each successful mission that was different. They never saw the bodies or damage done. Sometimes he wished he was still flying high and never had to see the destruction. When he got to Stalag 13, Olsen was a mess. He'd been a naïve young man, but that changed after the interrogations he was put through after his capture. Thanks to Hogan and the other men in barracks two, Olsen survived and learned to thrive again.
Before Carter joined them, when Olsen was outside the camp, he stayed in some caves not far away. One time he'd been out for two days and had one more day before he was due back. Everything had been going fine and he was enjoying his campout. Then a patrol found him in the cave. A German soldier decided to check the cave and walked in on him. Fortunately, Olsen was near the entrance and able to take hold of the man from behind. He cried out causing his partner to run inside. The partner tried to shoot Olsen, but hit his friend instead killing him. He got another shot off before Olsen shot him. Unfortunately, the bullet went through the soldier who Olsen was using as a shield, and into Olsen. With both Germans dead, he wrapped a field bandage around his arm and took off back to camp. He was able to avoid the patrols on the way back, but started losing a lot of blood. His only option was to use the emergency tunnel, even though the Colonel had expressly forbid them to use it. By the time he arrived at the entrance, he was feeling woozy from the blood loss. He remembered getting into the tunnel and that's when it all went black. Then next thing he knew he was on a cot, and Wilson was above him telling him that he was going to be fine. Most of the next two days he's never remembered, only hazy bits and pieces come through occasionally.
What he did remember was the smell of the bullet as it tore through flesh. A burning smell he thought he'd never get out of his senses. And the look in the soldier's eyes when he knew he was dying. He saw the life leave two men. He'd never seen death close up before or been the cause of it. That was the worst for him. Kinch somehow knew what he was feeling and had spent many hours talking him through it. After that incident was when Hogan decided they needed some place more permanent when he was outside the wire, and they bought his little house.
Olsen never learned how Kinch understood what it meant to kill a man with your own hands. When asked, Kinch would just shrug his shoulders and turn the conversation back onto the other person. Maybe he'd try again to learn Kinch's story, he thought as he entered barracks two.
A week later the three injured members of barracks two were well on their way to recovery. The rest of the team anxiously waited for Hogan to get off the radio with London. This was the first communication they'd had since London had imposed radio silence.
Hogan had cleared the tunnel so he could speak with the Allied High Command in private. Nearly thirty tense minutes later, he climbed the ladder to the barracks and gathered everyone around.
"What did ol' London have to say for themselves, sir?" Newkirk was the first to ask. All the others chimed in with similar sentiments.
"The decision they made was right," Hogan started only to be bombarded with comments of how could they let the Colonel down when he needed them most. Hogan held up his hands to quiet everyone down. "It seems that there was a mole in communications. From the conversations they'd intercepted, another drop was what this person needed to pinpoint our organization, and have us arrested by the Gestapo. I agree with what they did. The time wasn't the best, but it turned out alright."
"Blimey, I 'ope they have him on ice somewhere," Newkirk said shaking his head.
"Where they able to catch him, sir?" Kinch asked worried about the repercussions.
"Her. They've captured her," Hogan said only to be interrupted again.
"Her? Bloody hell," Newkirk looked bewildered. He lit up a cigarette.
"So were they upset about what happened outside the wire?" Olsen asked, confident he'd made the right decision. He had been mulling over everything that had happened the week before.
"No, they are just glad everything worked out and everyone is doing better, considering we had three men down. So now we are off the radio silence and can get back to work," Hogan said, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down at the commons table. The past week had been hard on everyone, but now things were getting back to normal and he could breathe easily again.
Olsen sat down next to his commanding officer. "Sir, are we safe?" Olsen asked, still looking a little scared from the whole mole in London thing.
"Yes Olsen, we are. Another cell has taken out the person she was reporting to in Berlin, so we're safe," Hogan explained to his stunned men. He looked at Olsen and said, "The restriction I gave to not go outside the wire has been lifted. You can now be the outside man again."
"Thank you sir," Olsen said, sighing deeply. He didn't want to let on to anyone, but he really wanted to go back outside the wire. He felt so claustrophobic in camp.
"Well, everything has worked out, thank G-d and we have a new assignment from London." Hogan said as he started briefing the men.
The End
