Chapter 11

Carter, Walters and Reynolds had returned to the barracks after their second trip with Schultz to get the remainder of the shovels and picks. And while they were busy doing that, LeBeau had another team below using the picks and shovels the trio had brought back on their first trip.

After Carter, Walters and Reynolds laid down the shoulder bags with the tools on Carter's bunk, the young sergeant approached LeBeau.

"How's it going, Louie?" he asked.

LeBeau, arms folded, glanced at Carter. "Slow. But we should be able to get more done now that we have the right tools. I only hope we can break through in time."

Carter pursed his lips. "Louie, what will we do if...."

"Don't even go there, Carter," LeBeau interrupted. "We cannot even go there. They are alive. I stake my life on it." LeBeau kept to himself that he had the same thought as Carter, and didn't know what they would do if they were too late. He didn't even want to think about it.

"Oh, before I forget, LeBeau," Carter suddenly said. "Schultz said to tell you he will do whatever he can to help, and will also try and keep Kommandant Olberman out of our hair until we can rescue the Colonel, Kinch and Newkirk."

LeBeau smiled. I knew I was right about Schultzie, he told himself.


Down below, Hogan was lying down on the cot, Newkirk and Kinch were seated on the ground nearby. They were all exhausted, dizzy and nauseous. Even Kinch had to admit to himself that he felt badly now. Leaning his head against the dirt wall, Kinch sighed as he let his mind wander.

Memories of the commaraderie they all shared; the successful missions; the dangers they had faced; the good times as well as the bad. At least the good outweighed the bad, thankfully. The friendships he had formed with Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter. But most of all, his best memory would be that of meeting and serving with Colonel Robert Hogan. Throughout his military career, Kinch had recalled a few of his commanding officers who, though friendly on the outside, he suspected inside harbored the fact that they really didn't like him because he was black. But meeting Hogan showed Kinch that there were good people in the military. Hogan had accepted him as he was and didn't care that he was black. And he trusted him, James Kinchloe, with everything, especially his own life. To Kinch, Colonel Hogan was the finest man he had ever met and had been proud to serve with him. If I am meant to die here, I will die knowing that my last act in life was meeting and working with Colonel Hogan.

Newkirk ran a hand over his brown hair. He never thought he could ever feel as sick as he did at this moment. He glanced at Kinch with a faint smile. His mate, Kinch. Newkirk had never had much, if any association with people of different races while in the RAF. But after he had been shot down and brought to Stalag 13, he had met James Kinchloe. He thought Kinch was one of the finest men he had ever known although one of the quietest and most serious. Then there was the fiery little Frenchman who was as loyal as anyone he had ever known despite their differences. He also thought about Carter, the naive and sometimes annoying sergeant. Although a genuis with explosives and could impersonate a German officer with brillance, he sometimes got on his nerves with his constant talking and sometimes stupid remarks. And then there was Colonel Hogan. He was different from any commanding officer Newkirk had ever known, and the Englander had no use for officers period. But Hogan was different. He found himself liking and respecting the Colonel who amazed him with his ingenuity, golden tongue and quick thinking. Newkirk realized after getting to know each other that he would follow Hogan into hell if necessary, and would gladly give his life for the American Colonel.

Hogan shifted his position on the cot. He had a depressing thought that this time he wasn't going to make it. He only hoped Newkirk and Kinch would follow what possibly could be his final orders. Hogan knew when he came to Stalag 13, he would have gone crazy without the four men who made up his core unit. He smiled as he thought about each one. Kinch, the finest second-in-command an officer could ever have. Although a very quiet and private man, Kinch had the temperment that made him, in Hogan's opinion, officer material. Also, he considered him a good friend and someone he could count on. Newkirk, even though he had a quick temper, had the best magic fingers of anyone. There wasn't a safe he couldn't open, nor pocket he couldn't pick. And he could impersonate a German officer as easily as Carter. Hogan's mind wandered to Carter, the explosives king. He let a smile appear. Carter knew his explosives, and could impersonate a Kraut officer and even Hitler with ease and talent. Although he drove Hogan crazy sometimes with what came out of his mouth, Carter was a good and loyal friend he knew he could depend on. And finally, there was LeBeau. The fiery little Frenchman was as loyal as the others, besides being an outstanding chef. But LeBeau could do other things just as well. Hogan was proud to have know these four, his friends. And he knew if it was meant for him to die down here, he would die knowing his last act as commanding officer was working with the four finest, most loyal men anyone could have the pleasure of working with.


LeBeau paced nervously back and forth rubbing the back of his neck, while Carter poured himself a cup of coffee. He offered LeBeau a cup, but the Frenchman declined. The barracks door opened and Wilson came in.

"Care for some coffee, Joe?" Carter asked.

"No thanks, Carter." He turned his attention to LeBeau. "What's happening? Are you any closer to gettig them out?"

"Nous faisons le progres (1)," LeBeau replied. He then notice Wilson's confused expression. "We are making progress. Schultz got us picks and shovels; we have round-the-clock crews digging below, and Schultz promised to try and keep the acting Kommandant busy so we can continue working."

Wilson checked his watch. "We have less than forty-eight hours to get them out."

LeBeau looked at Wilson in silence as he chewed his lower lip. He had a question he wanted to ask, but was afraid of the answer. Wilson placed a hand on the Frenchman's shoulder.

"What is it, LeBeau? I can sense you have something on your mind you want to ask me."

"Joe, what are the chances it may already be too late?" LeBeau asked quietly. It was a question that was on the mind of some of the other prisoners as well.

"Well, LeBeau, I'm not going to lie to you, because I know you wouldn't want me to." Wilson took a deep breath before continuing. "It's possible they could have been killed in the cave-in itself. It's also possible they may have died from suffocation. But I believe they're still alive, and we have to keep the faith and keep trying to get them out until we know for certain."

"Merci," LeBeau remarked. "We must have faith. At this point, that's about the only thing we still have."


Down below, Hogan forced himself to sit up on the cot. He glanced at Newkirk and Kinch who both seemed to be pretty much out of things. Staggering to his feet, Hogan stumbled over to Newkirk and knelt down in front of him. He gently slapped his face. "Newkirk, c'mon. Wake up! Newkirk! C'mon! Open your eyes. Let's go."

The Englander moaned and looked at his commanding officer through barely open eyes. A weak smile came to his lips. "Gov'nor. What are you doing up? You should be resting."

"Can you get up?"

"I can try, sir." Newkirk forced himself to try and get to his feet. He got as far as his knees before he fell over into Hogan's arms, unconcious.

Hogan gently laid him down on the ground and felt for a pulse and was relieved when he found one. He decided to leave Newkirk be right now. He then slowly crawled over to where Kinch was sitting, and repeated with Kinch what he had just done with Newkirk.

Kinch struggled to even lift his head to look at his commanding officer. A weak smile appeared. "Colonel Hogan, what are you doing up? You know you're not well."

Hogan forced a smile to his face. "Look who's talking," he joked. "Kinch, can you get to your feet at all. Newkirk's unconcious."

"I think so, Colonel, with maybe a little help."

Hogan grabbed Kinch around his waist and draped Kinch's arm over his own shoulders, trying to get him to stand up. He managed to get Kinch to his feet and helped him take one or two unsteady steps when Kinch sank to his knees dragging Hogan with him. He laid Kinch on the ground and checked for a pulse. He heaved a sigh of relief when he found one.

On his own knees, Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose. It seemed to be up to him to get his men help. Taking a deep breath, he made an attempt to get slowly to his feet when a wave of dizziness and the fatigue overtook him and he collapsed across Kinch, unconcious.

(1) "Nous faisons le progres" means 'we are making progress.'