If this was what being in charge was like, Kinch was already looking forward to retirement.
"I've got good news, bad news, and more bad news," he announced to the men sitting around the table waiting for supper to be served by their resident French chef. "All from London."
"How 'bout we just take the good and you find somebody else to dump the bad on while we're eatin'?" Newkirk suggested. "Share and share alike, I say."
"Is London gonna transfer in a second lieutenant so I won't have to be senior POW?" Carter asked hopefully.
"They found Cinderella's pictures of the anti-aircraft guns floating in the channel, and they're drying them off so we don't have to bother taking new ones?" was LeBeau's sincere, if unrealistic, hope.
"Wrong on both counts. But the good news is really good." Kinch held up the paper he'd written the details of the recent radio message on, not wanting to trust his memory to such vital information. "London located Colonel Hogan, and he's all right."
The round of loudly expressed relief quickly dissipated as soon as the men realized there were more details to be had, and they wanted them. "Well?" LeBeau pressed. "Tell us everything!"
"Moving right along to the first half of the bad news, this place really is a doozy. They call it Castel Fiocco, and it sounds like the Italian version of Alcatraz, sitting out in the middle of the bay on its own island. It's where they like to stick officers who've given them too much trouble. They must think pretty highly of the colonel in their own warped little Nazi way; it's actually kind of a compliment. Only the very best… or the very worst, depending on how you look at it… get sent to Castel Fiocco."
"That's our Guv'nor," Newkirk said with a certain amount of pride. "He's probably runnin' the whole place by now… that is, if he ain't already given 'em the slip."
"Oh, he's there, all right. Unfortunately, this place is tied with Stalag 13 in the no-escapes department, and somehow I don't think it's because they've got an extensive espionage operation they're keeping under wraps like we do. Castel Fiocco really is escape-proof… or so they say."
"Well, they don't know the colonel," Carter said with absolute confidence. "He'll show 'em how to escape from an escape-proof camp, don't you worry."
"I hope you're right, because there's not much we can do to help him out from here. It sounds like half dungeon, half snake pit from the limited amount of intelligence London's got on the place, and I doubt he's enjoying his stay. But they're sure he's in one piece, and that's what really matters."
"Tell you what, that good news was so good, I'll even hear the other half of the bad," Newkirk offered. "You have the floor."
"Well, we're not making any friends in London," Kinch relayed. "They're not too happy with us right now."
"We're not bein' immediate enough for 'em?" was Newkirk's guess.
"That's pretty much the size of it, yeah. We gotta make a try for that gun emplacement. I don't think they're going to wait too much longer."
"Or what, they fire us?" LeBeau challenged. "Maybe we wouldn't mind so much. Let them try."
"I don't think that's what they have in mind. But they might court-martial us." Kinch took a seat at the table and LeBeau immediately set a fresh cup of coffee in front of him. Just like he used to do for the colonel. If it was intended to make him feel better, it fell short of the mark. "First we need an idea of the security around the anti-aircraft battery. Did you guys get any information from Cinderella when you picked up the film?"
Carter shook his head. "Colonel Hogan was the only one that went up to his hotel room. Newkirk and LeBeau were watching the lobby to make sure it wasn't a trap, and I was at the end of the hallway keeping an eye on the back stairs in case we needed to get out in a hurry. If Cinderella had anything to say about details, he didn't say it to any of us."
"So we'll have to start at square one and get the scoop for ourselves so we'll know what we're up against. That means an extra trip into town."
"Charmin'. So double the chances of gettin' caught," Newkirk observed.
"That's about what it boils down to, yeah."
"So when do we go?" Carter asked.
"London would prefer yesterday… but I guess the best we can do is tonight. We'll leave an hour after lights-out. If we're lucky, we'll be back in under three hours. We need a close look at the security around the installment and at least two good ideas about how to get around it, so everybody keep your eyes open and look for an in."
"What if there ain't one?" It would have to be Newkirk's question. The others were probably thinking it, but as usual Newkirk was the one to throw it out there for all to hear.
"Cinderella found one, didn't he?"
"You mean the Cinderella who got dragged away by the Gestapo and is probably bein' tortured right now? What are the chances that whatever way he found to get in there to take them pictures ain't gonna be buttoned up tight by the time we get there, after he tells 'em everythin' he knows?"
"If you've got any better ideas, Newkirk, I'm waiting to hear them." It was a good bet that the outspoken Brit had nothing better to offer, but it never hurt to ask. Someday he might surprise them, and come up with a well-thought-out alternative Plan B that deserved serious consideration instead of just panning everyone else's ideas. But tonight wasn't the night. "That's what I thought. So, an hour after lights-out, we go out through the emergency tunnel."
There was one thing Kinch did like about his own admittedly embryonic plan: at least he'd be able to go out with them, since it was a covert operation. They weren't supposed to be seen. If they were, it would go equally badly for all of them, and nothing else would make a bit of difference. All for one, and one for all.
oo 0 oo
Robinson had claimed his team had a plan. Hogan wanted to believe him, although he hadn't seen any evidence of one yet. He liked to think that if they really did have something in the works, they would clue him in eventually.
The next afternoon, during the slow march around the courtyard in the pouring rain, while he slogged through course and slippery black sand, trying to keep his collar pulled tightly enough around his neck to keep at least a little bit of the water on the outside of his clothes, Hogan suddenly felt himself being shoved ahead a little faster than he'd have liked, and certainly closer to the inside castel wall than he'd been planning to go. In the next moment several hands reached out from a niche in the wall and grabbed him, pulling him out of line.
Now what did I do? was his first thought. He hadn't mouthed off to any guards today, and he hadn't even laid eyes on Schreiner. What was he being disciplined for? If this kind of stuff was going to happen, he at least liked to know what he'd done to merit it.
To his surprise, the hands belonged to Robinson and Wood. The next leg of his impromptu journey was crawling on his hands and knees through a hole concealed by a square metal grate that he just barely managed to squeeze through. Maybe missing a few meals here and there wouldn't hurt, he thought fleetingly. There was definitely a downside to LeBeau's rich food that sometimes escaped his vigilance.
He didn't have a chance to ask where they were going. He didn't have a chance to say anything at all until they finished hauling him through the opening, and then Wood swiftly fit the grate back into place behind him on his way out as Robinson assisted Hogan to his feet. There wasn't quite enough room for the two of them to stand up all the way. One small tallow candle was the only light source, and it was burned almost down to the nub and flickering precipitously.
"Pardon the manhandling, old boy."
"Anything to get out of that rain."
"This dodge only works in the rain, actually. I'll explain. Right now just a quick word to give you the scoop on our operation."
"I'm all ears."
"Welcome to our tunnel."
It was said with a certain amount of pride. Hogan couldn't help comparing it to the Stalag 13 definition of 'tunnel', though, and it lacked ventilation as well as lighting. It was clammy and close in here, almost as damp as it was outside in the pouring rain. "Homey."
"Not a patch on the scope of your old operation, I know. Still, it will serve its purpose well enough. We'll be out of here sooner than you might think. This underground system of chambers is actually the ruins of a much earlier castle than the one upstairs… we know that thanks to my man O'Brien who's quite the student of history, but the guards don't. He told us what to look for, and by Jove here it is. We've not explored every inch yet, but it's our ticket out of here, that much we know for a fact."
"Sounds promising. What do you need me for?"
"A few of us slip down here from time to time, whenever it's possible, and do a bit of mapping and digging and so forth. O'Brien has the best idea what it is we're looking for, so we follow his lead."
"What's he found so far?"
"Think you'll be pleased. There's an ancient ventilation and drainage system that leads to the outside. It's blocked, but we've been working to clear it as time allows. This is the rainy season so that's a considerable help."
"How so?"
"Well, naturally water flows downhill, so it tells us which way to go. And your stand-in for the exercise period wouldn't be half as effective without a blanket over his extremely false head." Robinson reached into the shadows and pulled out something that, at first place, appeared to be a man. At second glance, even in the low light, it was obviously not weighty enough to be a real person, and the painted facial features were rather crude. "You see?" Then he pulled a tattered blanket over the mannequin's head, suddenly concealing a multitude of sins. "Sunny day, Tommy stay… rainy day, Tommy out to play. A couple of the fellows get into close formation and carry a Tommy upright between them, which frees up one of the boys for more productive activities in here. So the head count during the exercise period is always right, even if all the heads aren't real. A Tommy even passed at roll call once… admittedly it was quite a dark night. He'll also stand in… or rather lie in... for you on your cot as well, when the situation calls for it. He's very compact and easy to move 'round from room to room during what we call the social hour, when the doors are open and we're free to move about."
"The guards haven't caught on?"
"The weak spot as far as the guards are concerned is that they're a bit over-confident. They think they've got us over a barrel, and naturally we let them think that as much as they like."
Crafty. Hogan had to admit, he was rather impressed. This was a bold stunt that had no right to work... in fact, wouldn't work in at least 90 percent of the places one might be tempted to try it out, and how many would have enough pure nerve to even try it in the first place... yet, these guys had made it work. "What can I do to help?"
"Take a shift in the tunnel during the exercise period, according to the schedule we've got worked out." In the dim light, Hogan suddenly realized there was a short-handled spade in Robinson's hand... looked like he was about to punch in. "And don't get caught." Robinson paused for effect. "That last part's the most important. If they twig to what we're up to down here, it won't go well."
Hogan began to roll up his sleeves. "You don't have to tell me twice. Have Tommy let me know when he's ready to come in out of the rain."
oo 0 oo
A few hours later, hundreds of miles northwest of Hogan's first day on the job as assistant earthworm, his former colleagues were also somewhere they weren't supposed to be. The major difference was that all of their heads were real.
The gun emplacement wasn't very large, for that type of installation. That could work for them or against them, depending on circumstances. At a bigger site they would have a better chance of blending in if they went inside in disguise; not everybody would know everybody else, and an unfamiliar face wearing the right uniform could easily take up a position without being challenged. On the other hand, smaller sites sometimes had more easily defeated barriers to entry, and being fairly new this one was still getting into its routine, also a possible advantage. Time would tell.
Pretty much the same thoughts were going through the minds of all four of the men hunched in the darkness of the hillside above the front gate, passing a pair of binoculars back and forth as they made their initial assessment of the job. "Seems like a pretty standard setup," Carter finally said, the first to weigh in. "Front gate, base commander's office over there on the left, and the four pieces of artillery a couple hundred yards to the right, behind that concrete barrier." He started to sketch the layout in pencil on a piece of graph paper for later analysis back at camp, noting the size of and distance between the various elements as best he could estimate.
"So to get a close look at the rangefinder and aiming mechanism and take the photos, we've gotta get past the guards at the gate, past the ones at the administration building, and past any extra ones that we can't even see down there patrolling the guns themselves." Kinch lowered the binoculars and passed them over to LeBeau.
"Cinderella did it," the Frenchman reminded him.
"I'll ring up me fairy godmother and see if she'll let us borrow her magic wand," Newkirk offered. Then he refocused his attention on a canopy truck that was approaching the front gate. "Hello, hello... what've we got here, then?"
LeBeau trained the binoculars on the truck as the sentry at the front gate approached the driver. "Looks like a routine supply delivery. Maybe that would be a good way for us to get inside to take the pictures. We could borrow a truck from the motor pool, and..."
To their surprise, instead of being waved inside the gate, the driver got out of the truck, and a second sentry from the sentry box came out to take his place behind the wheel and drove the truck onto the installation. The original driver remained outside the gate with his hands out to his sides, while the remaining guard kept a close eye on him. It was all done very automatically, almost as if it had been rehearsed… or done a dozen times before. Everyone involved looked like they were used to it and understood exactly what was expected of them.
"Gee, when you can't trust your own side, who can you trust?" Carter asked.
"I guess that's the end of that idea," grumbled LeBeau. "If they won't even let their own Kraut drivers in there, there's no way we could ever drive right past the sentries."
"If that was how Cinderella done it, they're onto it now," Newkirk agreed.
Kinch wasn't liking this mission any better the more he found out about it. There would be no room for error. Not much for erring on the side of caution, either. This would have to be a bold, extremely well thought out plan, yet time was of the essence and they didn't have much of it to spare in which to kick ideas back and forth. Every night those same upgraded guns sat at Calais was a night they had a golden opportunity to take down scores of Allied planes, and they were obviously making the most of that opportunity judging by what had happened to the courier plane. But like LeBeau had just said, if the sentries weren't even allowing for-real Germans inside the perimeter, what chance did the four of them have to get in, take the necessary pictures and get out?
Ten long, mysterious minutes later, they watched the now-empty truck drive back out through the gate, the sentry got out, the original driver got back in behind the wheel, and off he drove into the night.
"Looks like the show's over." Kinch started to get to his feet. "Carter, you all set? Got everything you need?"
Carter nodded with confidence. "Oh, yeah. Full sketch of the installation and perimeter."
"Anybody got anything else to add before we head back to camp?"
"I think a nice respectful prayer might be in order."
Sometimes Newkirk really needed to shut up. Kinch put that on his to-do list for later on... remind the mouthy Brit when enough was really enough, and any more than that was just moving air around. But that was an agenda item for back at camp, where they were more or less safe and sound. "Let's head home."