If Hogan had been silly enough to go along with the bet, Olsen would've been two bucks richer. As the two prisoners pulled up to the old barn where they had left him, they found Schultz dozing off, cradling his rifle in his arms. Despite all the problems on his mind, Hogan found himself grinning. Good old Schultz.

Pulling the truck to the side of the road, Hogan and Olsen jumped out of the cab and made their way to the guard.

"Wake up, Schultz," Hogan said, lightly kicking Schultz's foot. Schultz woke up with a start and fumbled with his gun, trying to point it at his attacker. "Hold it Schultz, we're the good guys."

Schultz blinked and looked up. "Colonel Hogan," Schultz cried, a relieved smile crossing his face. Clearing his throat, he got to his feet and shook his finger at the prisoners. "Colonel Hogan, Olsen, where did you go?!" Hogan just shrugged. "Colonel Hogan, you cannot just steal a German truck and drive away! Colonel Klink will throw you in the cooler when he finds out!"

"How's he going to find out, Schultz?" Hogan asked. "I'm not going to tell him, Olsen's not going to tell him-"

Schultz pointed to himself with his thumb. "But I will!"

"All right, if that's the way you want it," Hogan sighed. "But how are you going to explain how two unarmed prisoners stole a truck from the best guard at Stalag 13- an armed guard at that." Schultz started to sputter and go red. "Schultz," Hogan drawled, "it's mighty cold on the Russian front this time of year."

"But at least you want have a long trip- it's getting closer everyday," Olsen added.

Schultz finally growled in defeat. "Colonel Hogan, I've decided not to tell Colonel Klink."

"Good. Let's go home."

"Right! Back in the truck, back, back, back!" Schultz barked, pointing his gun at Hogan and Olsen. All three men climbed into the cab and sped off towards Stalag 13.

"Colonel Hogan?"

"Present Schultz."

"Colonel Hogan, why are you going so fast? What is the hurry?" Schultz asked anxiously, looking in the side mirror as if he expected something behind them to blow up.

"I want to get my week in the cooler over with," Hogan answered nonchalantly. "The sooner we get there, the sooner I go in and the sooner I get out."

"Oh, I understa-" Schultz stopped mid-nod and looked at the colonel in horror. "A week in the cooler? What week in the cooler?! You would only go into the cooler if… if… Colonel Hogan, where is Carter? Didn't you get him?"

"What gave you that idea, Schultz?"

"What do you mean what gave me that idea?" Schultz cried, sounding panicked. "That's why we are here. That's why you took the truck without me!"

"What are you talking about, Schultz? We ditched you because we didn't want any more competition with the pretty frauleins at the hofbrau in town."

"You went to the hofbrau? You weren't looking for Carter?"

"Are you kidding?" Hogan scoffed. "That would mean even more competition."

"But-but Colonel Hogan, what about Carter? We have to find him before we go back to Stalag 13."

"Forget it Schultz," Hogan said offhandedly. "He's long gone by now."

Olsen clapped Schultz on the shoulder causing the larger man to look his way. "Long gone," he echoed.

"Kommandant Klink will throw you both in the cooler." The effect of the warning was undone by the pleading tone in Schultz's voice.

"He said he would throw me into the cooler till the end of the war," Hogan reminded him. "Come on Schultz, how long can that be?"

Schultz looked from Hogan to Olsen and back again, finding equally smug smirks on both faces. Finally, he just whimpered and settled back into his seat. "Colonel Klink will throw me into the cooler," he muttered, allowing Hogan a small smile.

The rest of the trip was made in silence, giving Hogan time to dwell on the situation he now found his men and himself in.

He should've taken Carter to a hospital. Now he was trapped in the tunnels which, as Colonel Potter had pointed out, were less than ideal for surgery. There was no doubt that Carter would get an infection and their supply of penicillin was low. The only way to get more was through London.

Hogan tensed at the thought. London had done enough damage. They probably couldn't even handle a simple drop like that. There had to be another way. But what?

Hogan didn't have much time to think further than that because Stalag 13 was quickly coming into view. As they pulled through the front gates, Hogan saw Colonel Klink pacing outside his office. As soon as they stopped, the kommandant was making his way up to the truck, a hopeful look on his face.

"Did you find Carter?"

"Sorry sir," Hogan said as he hopped out of the truck. "But Carter's smarter than I thought. We couldn't find him anywhere."

Klink's face fell and suddenly hardened. "Colonel Hogan, in my office."

"Sure thing, Kommandant." At that, Klink swivelled on his heel and marched up the steps of his office.

"Donors," Hogan whispered to Olsen who gave a quick salute and slipped away. Schultz didn't seem to notice as he led Hogan to the Kommandant's office.

"So Kommandant, what did you want to see me about?" Hogan asked as he nonchalantly took off his hat and placed it on the helmet on Klink's desk. Klink automatically tore it off and shoved it back into Hogan's hands, stamping his foot in annoyance.

"Hogan, you know exactly why I wanted to see you! You said you would bring Carter back!"

"Did I?" Hogan asked innocently.

Klink stamped his foot again. "Yes! I told you it would be a week in the cooler if you didn't."

"I thought you said for the rest of the war," Schultz put in. "And then Colonel Hogan said that would only be a week because-"

"SCHULTZ!" Klink shook a fist at the guard. "What are you doing here? Go take Olsen to the cooler."

"Jawhol, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said as he straightened and offered a salute. He turned and looked around, as if he had expected Olsen to be right behind him. He looked back at the officers in confusion. Hogan just shrugged and Klink simply reissued his order.

"Now, where is Carter?" Klink asked when Schultz had left. "I know you know where he is, Hogan."

"Well, that's just it. I don't. He just-" Hogan snapped his fingers- "disappeared."

"Well then, Hogan, I will just have to make you-" Klink imitated Hogan and also snapped his fingers- "disappear. Thirty days in the cooler!"

"Thirty days!" Hogan protested. "That's a humanly unjustified punishment! You should at least take into consideration that I brought Olsen and Schultz back with me."

"I did. Thirty days Hogan, no less. Guard!" A moment later, the door opened and Corporal Langenscheidt poked his head in.

"Kommandant?"

"Take him to the cooler," Klink said, waving his hand towards the door. Langenscheidt craned his neck to see Hogan standing behind the door. He quickly nodded and offered both officers a salute before stepping into the room and gesturing for Hogan to go ahead.

"You're making a mistake, Kommandant. You won't be able to find Carter without me," Hogan cried as one last protest. Truth was, he wanted to go to the cooler. Generally, the guards left him alone. They also followed a strict timetable as to when they checked up on their prisoners- a timetable the men had down to the second- so it would be easy to slip in and out without anyone noticing.

"Apparently, I can't do any worse than you. Take him away, Langenscheidt."

With an exaggerated sigh of defeat, Hogan turned and left the office. In the compound, he met up with Olsen and Schultz who were also headed for the cooler. Olsen gave Hogan a quick nod before the two prisoners were led into their own separate cells.

Hogan waited until he was sure the guards were gone before he opened the trap door in the cooler and snuck into the tunnels.

LeBeau's tirade fell on deaf ears. The men in Barracks 2 seemed far more interested in cleaning up after the 'air raid' than to listen to him. It only served to make LeBeau more angry, but he took the hint and kept his ranting to himself.

It was not fair, LeBeau thought angrily as he paced the barracks, stepping past piles of junk that had been pushed to the floor. Why had he been passed over for Olsen? Did the colonel not trust him anymore? That was ridiculous; he had done nothing wrong! Well, he hadn't intentionally done anything wrong.

LeBeau let out a pathetic sigh and slumped onto the bench at the common room table.

He realized he had let the team down on the mission. If he hadn't fainted, they would've been home so much sooner and perhaps Newkirk, Kinch and Carter wouldn't have been so bad off. There was not much he could've done though. He had always hated the sight of blood. And while he had held off as long as he could, seeing and feeling Carter's blood on his hands had done him in completely.

But it wasn't as if this was the first mistake he had made. He had made plenty over the years- they all had. And every time, Colonel Hogan had managed to get them out of whatever bad situation they got themselves into. Sure, when one of them made a mistake, the others were rather sore at him for a few days, but eventually, they go over it- if only for the good of the outfit.

So far they had been lucky. The operation had been going for two years now and in that time, there had been few major injuries. Nothing, anyway, that their medic and a few days of rest couldn't fix. But this time was different. This time, they hadn't been so lucky.

And how was that his fault, LeBeau suddenly thought angrily. Carter had been hurt long before he had fainted! Yes, fainting hadn't helped anything, but, really, it hadn't made their situation a whole lot worse. They had made it back, albeit a bit slower than they could have. Still, the others had no good reason to be mad at him.

The colonel had passed him over for this one mission and that would be the end of it.

"Hey, what time is it?" Kinch asked, snapping LeBeau out of his thoughts.

"'Bout ten o'clock," Goldman answered from the other side of the room where he was sweeping.

"Newkirk's been out about two hours," Kinch noted. "We ought to wake him up." He tried to get out of his bunk only to wince in pain. His hands went to his leg and he gently massaged his calf.

"I'll do it," LeBeau volunteered. Kneeling next to Newkirk, he gently shook his shoulder. "Newkirk?" Newkirk muttered something unintelligible and tried to swat LeBeau away. "Wake up Newkirk. Wake up."

"Wha?" Newkirk peered through bleary eyes and quickly shut them again. "Cor, it's bright in here."

"Sorry, my friend," LeBeau apologized. He got up and shut the shutter closest to Newkirk's bunk. "Is that better?" Newkirk just grunted but did manage to sit up. "How do you feel?"

Newkirk rubbed his head and looked over at LeBeau. Suddenly, he scowled and turned away. "Oh, who me? Concerned, are we? Well, I feel like I was caught in a bloody air raid and had to carry me mate home by myself because someone up and fainted on me for no good reason. How you feeling, Kinch?"

"On the mend," Kinch answered, catching LeBeau's gaze. He gave him a sorry look as if he were apologizing for Newkirk's scathing remarks. "Helps that I don't have a chip on my shoulder."

Newkirk just grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest, causing LeBeau to clench a fist. Newkirk knew he wasn't responsible for Carter; the Englishman was just being stubborn, that was all.

"I am sorry for fainting, but I-"

"Oh, why don't you go cook something," Newkirk interrupted.

"Cook?! I can do much more than cook! I am-" LeBeau cut himself off and angrily rose to his feet. There was no use arguing with a man who had a concussion- LeBeau would just end up giving him another one. And so, without another word, LeBeau hoisted himself onto his bunk and stared up and the ceiling.

Perhaps when Newkirk's head cleared a bit, he would eventually see that he was wrong to be mad. And if not? LeBeau sighed. There had to be a way he could make it up to the others.

Just then, the door to the barracks opened and Olsen slipped in. Everyone perked up and watched the sergeant anxiously, waiting for any sort of news.

"Did you get him?" Kinch asked.

"Yeah. The colonel sent me to find blood donors for Carter. Any volunteers?"

LeBeau sat up in his bunk. This was just what he needed. Not only would he help save Carter's life- as he had failed to do on the way home- but it would be a testament to his courage to donate blood. "I volunteer Olsen," LeBeau cried as he jumped off his bunk. He caught Newkirk's sceptical out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help but smile.

"What's your blood type?" Olsen asked.

"A positive," LeBeau answered as he fished out his dog tags and showed them to Olsen.

Olsen clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Sorry, LeBeau. I need B positive." He gently pushed LeBeau to the side so he could get a better view of the hut. "Anyone B positive?"

"I am," Goldman answered.

"Great. Go-"

The door opened behind him and Schultz stepped in, cutting Olsen off. "Olsen!" The big guard cried. "Olsen, what are you doing here? You were supposed to follow me!"

"Klink just wanted to see Colonel Hogan, Schultz," Olsen answered innocently.

"Well, now he wants you in the cooler too. Raus!"

"All right," Olsen said, holding his hands up in surrender, "I'm coming." As he followed Schultz out the door, he grabbed LeBeau's sleeve. "Round up some more and send them to the tunnels."

Slumping his shoulders, LeBeau nodded as the sergeant left. "Goldman, into the tunnels," he sighed. "I will be back; I am going to find more donors." LeBeau grabbed the door handle and glanced down at Newkirk. The Englishman was asleep again. With a tiny sigh, he opened the door and stepped into the compound, knowing that his act of heroism- if it could even be considered that- had gone largely unnoticed and unappreciated.