Special thanks to Sapphire363 for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own.

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DAY TEN


Newkirk stirred. Something had awoken him. In the dark, he needed a moment to understand the raised voices and hear barking dogs.

"Roll call." The voice of the guard carried through the thin wall.

It was time for the truth. Either the escape was successful or they had been made.

After Newkirk had declared himself unfit to leave right now, Major Norris had chosen a few men, twenty all in all, to use one of their auxiliary tunnels as escape route.

Newkirk had even thrown in his talent for forging papers. Together with the clothes Sergeant Baker had stashed in the tunnel, they had every chance for success.

The door was pushed open. "Roll call. Everybody out."

If Schultz was angry he could be impressive, but his angry voice was nothing compared to their new Germans guards. Newkirk didn't know why they even needed guns, they shot their words like a machine gun.

"Out. Out. Out."

It even sounded like a gun: pang, pang, pang!

Grabbing the borrowed jacket from an American bomber pilot, he stumbled outside.

The men grumbled and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed.

"Are you regretting already that you stayed behind?" Private Jones asked. He fell in line to his left.

Smirking, Newkirk shock his head. "I'd rather stay here a little longer until the last has left."

He received a strange look but Newkirk just shrugged and focused on his surroundings.

The whole yard was brightly lit. Around the gate a lot of German soldiers received their instruction and then left with their dogs. It wasn't his job to keep the dogs in their favor but Newkirk was pretty sure, that a German Shepard was above suspicion to be Papa Bear and so these dogs were, beside himself, the last ones of the original crew. He could count on them.

"Wow, we got out a lot," Jones said.

Newkirk nodded. A proud smile appeared on his lips.

In front of every barrack a small amount of men stood in a roll call. Newkirk could only remember one incident where they had similar small numbers to put out in a roll call. Then they had had to keep a whole company busy.

The damage was extensive. Not one line of roll call was complete. And everybody looked surprised and tired. Pretending to be harshly awoken from the guards and not having been praying and hoping the whole night that this would work.

He'd never forget the shout of joy and compliments that he had gotten for a simple auxiliary tunnel.

"Your Colonel Hogan really knew how to plan an escape."

A little remorseful, Newkirk could only give a jerky nod. "The gov'nor knew his stuff. He wasn't even so bad for an officer."

The washing sink in Barracks 2 had become the entry to freedom and even Lieutenant Nash had forgiven him for his unannounced visits in barracks 2.

"Do you think our guys have a good enough head start?"

"It should be enough," he reassured him. Actually, Newkirk had hoped for more time between escape and detection but this was probably the best they could achieve with the competent part of the Germans guards.

Newkirk glanced across the compound and froze.

In the bright light of their search lights, Newkirk saw him. Sergeant Baker. In front of barracks 2, he stood right behind Major Norris and Lieutenant Nash. He wouldn't have seen him if not for the surprised glances of the officers.

"What are you doing here!"

The loud voice of the sergeant of the guards carried across from barracks 2 to barracks 4.

"I am attending roll call," Baker answered with a perfectly innocent expression. "Like ordered."

Newkirk smirked despite the worry he felt. Too bad that Papa Bear was history. Baker would have been a good addition. But now he could only be a good help in organizing the mass escape.

"You are missing."

"No, sir, I am here."

The German sergeant narrowed his eyes.

Newkirk called out. "He has been over there the whole time. Don't know why kept insisting he had escaped!"

Norris glared over his shoulder. But his glare lost a lot of heat in his confusion. Newkirk had never bothered to correct the impression that Baker had found the tunnel and escaped. Alone.

A lot of the men around the camp added their voice in agreement that he had been the whole time in roll call for barracks 2.

Finally, the German had enough. He pointed with an outstretched arm to barracks 4. "You belong over there. Get back!"

Baker raised his hands in a peace offer and strolled over.

As he caught Newkirk's questioning glare, he leaned forward and whispered: "Greetings from Sergeant Kinchloe. He scared me half to death when he suddenly turned up."

Now Newkirk laughed and then had to hide it behind a cough. If Kinch was back, the German would never find the escaped men. Somehow Kinch would think of something, maybe a guide to the next starting point in the travel route or he hid them in the main tunnel.

The renewed glare of Lieutenant Nash, Newkirk answered with a bright smile. With Kinch back, it was time to introduce the new senior officers how things were done at Stalag XIII for their little time remaining here.

Maybe Kinch even knew how to get their friends back and just what exactly had happened.

Until then, he would enjoy the show.

Germans running around like chickens in a cage trying to find an egg that was long gone.


LeBeau followed the old woman showing him the way through the pantry. Somehow she had guessed rightly that he was French.

"Voici, les légumes et les pommes de terre." She pointed with crooked finger at a shelf with her swollen knuckles. It was easy to see why she couldn't cook anymore.

Silently, he followed the old woman as she walked slowly with her cane.

The house and its occupant were exactly as he had imaged them. There weren't any nice bouquets or drawings. He only found blank space, or worse: the Swastika was the only decorative symbol; everything was black and red and white.

Black like their heart and souls, white like their skins and red like the blood they liked to shed.

'Stay alive!'

LeBeau remembered Lieutenant Lincoln's last words over and over again.

'Stay alive!'

It hadn't been a wish, it had been an order. Lincoln had asked him to stay alive by not doing what he was tempted to do. A little few too many berries, some raw leaves of this or that, and it wouldn't take long for another important Nazi to go his way to Valhalla.

Of course, he would be shot just because, but maybe, just maybe it was worth it.

"Voici, la cuisine," the old lady said in broken French. "S'il vous plaît."

"Merci," LeBeau answered in a monotone voice.

Her withered face still showed a small smile. "J'ai aimé Paris et je suis désolée..." With misty eyes, she broke off.

Then she looked around trying to spot one of the guards or other people milling around.

Two SS guards watched the passage and door to the kitchen. But in a good moment, she pulled out a big key from under of her enormous apron. "Pour la porte de la forêt."

LeBeau's eyes widened, but he recovered fast and grabbed the key. "Merci," he repeated and this time he meant it. If he had understood her correctly, she had handed him a key to leave the house. Undetected.

Before he could say something else, another person entered the house. Heavy steps implied a big man nearing the kitchen.

LeBeau hid the key as fast as possible.

"Where is -" a voice said as the man turned to the kitchen.

He recognized him instantly. "Schultz!"

"- the little cockroach." Schultz finished first, then he smiled at LeBeau.

The old lady slipped away, leaving LeBeau behind without ever saying her name.

"I was worried that the general would not take my recommendation. Then I would be dead or at the Russian front." He frowned as he thought over his last statement. "But this is the same as dead."

He remained standing in front of the kitchen door.

LeBeau narrowed his eyes. Neither Klink nor Colonel Hogan, but Schultz was responsible for his plight. His jaw line build an angry line. LeBeau marched straight towards Schultz and grabbed the door. Schultz yielded and jumped aside in surprise. "LeBeau..."

"I need to cook," LeBeau growled and shut the door with as much force as he dared.

The door fell shut behind him with a loud bang. For the first time in days, LeBeau was alone, alone in a room with four walls.

He took a deep breath and tried to decide if he ran now, waited for the old lady to leave the premise completely or screamed on top of his voice.

"LeBeau," Schultz carefully pushed his mass into the kitchen. On his face, his remorse and hurt drew lines around his eyes and on his forehead. "I ... I heard about the new camp and how many of the prisoner got sick and -"

"Decided you needed more strudel?" LeBeau crossed his arms. "Because you're not big enough already?"

Schultz shook his head in denial. "No, I-"

LeBeau wasn't in the mood, but he needed some information only Schultz could provide. "Where's Colonel Hogan?"

"With General Burkhalter."

"Shouldn't you be on guard duty in Stalag XIII?"

Schultz heaved a sigh. "There is no Stalag XIII anymore."

A sensation like ice-cold water ran down his spine. "What?"

"Everybody is gone. I tried to make sure that you and the boys all get good places but there was no time."

"No, no, no." LeBeau's heart started to pump furiously. Not even a kiss from Marya could dump so much adrenaline in his body as this innocent sounding sentence. "What do you mean there is no Stalag XIII anymore?"

Schultz sat down and leaned his gun against the wall. "Major Hochstetter is trying to find this Papa Bear and he thinks his headquarter is in Stalag XIII. So General Burkhalter had everybody removed and ..." he trailed off.

"And what?" LeBeau prompted. Peter, Andrew and Kinch, they all had been still in the camp as he had left. If they weren't there anymore, LeBeau didn't want to finish this thought.

"... I know nothing."

"Schultz! Please tell me, where are they?"

"I do not know. I just know that if there are no activities from Papa Bear in the next few days, Hochstetter is allowed to interrogate Colonel Klink and Colonel Hogan." Schultz shuddered. He knew that nobody would return from this interrogation.

LeBeau slumped down next to Schultz. He had wasted valuable time trying to help. He should have stuck to the plan. The guilt squashed his chest like a vise. The knowledge that he hadn't known did not relieve the pressure.

"... and so I ended up here," Schultz ended his tale and sighed again.

LeBeau hadn't listened and didn't care. Schultz had messed up, if he hadn't sent him away on one of the first trucks, he would have known. And then, then … LeBeau balled his fists.

Guilt was easily transferred to anger, LeBeau tensed up and straightened. He would -

The sudden opening of the kitchen door interrupted his dark thoughts. One of the SS-guards entered the kitchen. "Why haven't you started already? The general wants to eat soon."

LeBeau opened his mouth, but Schultz beat him in an answer. "I was just telling the corporal what the General likes and what he does not like."

"It doesn't matter. If your cook isn't capable to deliver, you can always transfer to the Russian front and we shoot him. There are enough prisoners if we need a new one. We don't have time for twiddling. Tomorrow, the other generals will arrive and then they are going to plan how to retake France. And it's going to be a great day for the glorious Third Reich."

Schultz jumped up. "Of course, Herr Sturmfuehrer."

With a last angry glare, the SS guard turned on his heel and left again.

LeBeau remained sitting and crossed his arms.

"Please, cockroach. If you could just cook something good for this meeting. After the big shot is gone, we can stay here and ..."

Schultz talked and talked while LeBeau had stopped listening. He nodded to himself. He would cook but not for Schultz or for his life.

Slowly a grin began to form. He was supposed to cook for a really important meeting. If Colonel Hogan had known, he would have invented himself somehow. Schultz had accidentally done just this. Now LeBeau had a few hours to come up with a plan how to steal their plans and bring them to London or the Resistance.

Schultz had wanted to help himself but he had gifted LeBeau with a golden opportunity to save Papa Bear. Hochstetter wouldn't get his proof. Not as long as LeBeau could do something about it.


TBC