If Kinch's leg hadn't hurt so badly, he would be pacing so much, there'd be a hole in the floor going straight down to the tunnels. Instead, he sat on his bunk and anxiously fiddled with a radio he had pulled out from his foot locker. He must've taken it apart and put it back together three different times already.

LeBeau had disappeared down in the tunnels with blood donors hours ago. That doctor was probably operating on Carter right now. How long would it take? How was Carter holding up? And how long would he have to wait until he knew the outcome, one way or the other?

He couldn't stand it anymore. Four hours! It would hurt like the dickens, but he was going down to the tunnels to wait. Then, he would be right there when the doctor finished. He wanted to be there when Carter woke up, if only to reassure himself that the other sergeant had made it.

Kinch checked his watch. It had been two hours since someone had last waken Newkirk. It was about time to wake him again. Maybe the Englishman would want to join him. Kinch snorted. No maybes about it. Despite being complete opposites, Newkirk and Carter had forged a strong friendship. A little concussion wouldn't keep Newkirk from checking up on him.

Reaching over, Kinch grabbed Newkirk's foot and shook it. "Newkirk, wake up."

Newkirk woke with a started and pulled his foot away. "Oi! Let go of me foot!"

"You awake, Newkirk?"

"No, I'm still asleep. That's why I'm talking to you. Blimey, Kinch, did you decide to ask the dumb questions for Carter while he's gone?"

"Yeah, and I might as well ask the questions for the colonel too. Who's the prime minister of England?"

"Winnie the Pooh," Newkirk answered sourly. He slowly sat up and was met with a sceptical look from Kinch. "Winston Churchill, mate. Don't worry, the old head still works." He tapped his head and winced as a result.

"If you say so," Kinch said, shaking his head in amusement. "I'm going down to check on Carter," he announced as he bent over the edge of his bed and pulled out his footlocker. He quickly placed the radio in the false bottom and shoved the locker back under. "Want to come?"

To Kinch's surprise, Newkirk didn't answer right away. Instead, he gingerly touched his head again as if to make sure it was on properly. Then, after flexing his arm, he nodded. "Right then. You think you can make it down that ladder, Kinch?"

"My bum leg can beat your cracked head any day of the week," Kinch answered with a sly grin. Newkirk just rolled his eyes and carefully got out of his bunk. Kinch swung his legs over the side of his bed and grabbed the top bunk to lift himself up onto his good leg. Then, he smacked the bunk to open the trap door leading to the tunnels.

With his leg protesting on every rung, Kinch slowly climbed down the ladder. He nearly slipped twice, but kept a vice-like grip on the ladder with both hands. Finally, he reached the bottom and nearly collapsed. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all, he mused as he looked back up to the entrance. Just how was he supposed to get back up?

Newkirk was not far behind him and when the Englishman got off, he grabbed hold of Kinch and held him up. "Fine pair we make," Newkirk snorted. He looked around the empty radio room and then back at Kinch. "Where do you suppose they are?"

Kinch shrugged. "Close, I hope." Pushing away from Newkirk, he grabbed the chair at his desk and limped over, sitting himself down with a sigh of relief.

"Maybe I'll poke about a bit," Newkirk offered. He took a few steps, swayed on his feet and stumbled forward, catching himself on the desk. "Then again…"

"Kinch? Newkirk?" Kinch looked up to see Colonel Hogan coming towards them. "What are you two doing down here?"

"Came to see Carter," Kinch answered. "Where is he?"

Hogan jerked his head towards the hall behind him. "Newkirk's sewing room. The doctor turned it into his operating room."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Kinch could see Newkirk pale slightly. He wouldn't be surprised if the Englishman set up shop in another room afterwards.

"How is he?" Newkirk asked after a moment.

"Doctor says he has a ways to go. But he'll pull through."

Kinch had the feeling the colonel was omitting something but there was something in Hogan's tone that told him that was all he was going to get out of him. "Can we see him?"

Hogan nodded. "All right by me. The doctor might just kick you out though."

"We'll take our chances," Newkirk said. He grabbed Kinch's hand and helped him up and together, the two started their way down the tunnel. A voice from above made them stop in their tracks.

"Colonel Hogan?" Private Fuller called from the barracks above. "Colonel?"

Hogan raced to the ladder and looked up. "What is it?"

"General Burkhalter just came into camp and went into Klink's office. Coffee pot says they're sending Schultz for you."

"On my way." And with that, Hogan darted down the tunnel and off towards the cooler.

Kinch and Newkirk shrugged and continued on their way. They finally reached the sewing room and peered in. In the middle of the room, Carter lay on a table and a short, balding man stood over him, gently taping bandages to his back. There were lanterns and lamps all over the floor and hanging from the ceiling, but only a few of them were lit, casting eerie, flickering shadows onto the walls.

"Doctor?" Kinch said after a moment.

Colonel Potter jumped and looked over. "Back already? Good. Fill them up, pronto. I need some light in here."

"Sir?"

"Oil for the lamps," Potter clarified.

Goldman, who was sitting against the wall, holding his arm, looked up. "That's not them, Colonel. They're just visiting."

"Oh." Potter inspected Kinch and Newkirk. "come on in, then. But you can't stay too long. Doubt you'll find the conversation interesting anyway."

"Never do," Newkirk said with a wry smile. Potter just chuckled. "Ah, I see you've had the pleasure of talking to him, then."

"Briefly," Potter acknowledged.

They shared a small laugh. Kinch pushed himself away from Newkirk and grabbed hold of the table. "We don't mean it, Andrew," he said. "In fact, I can't wait to hear about the operation your Aunt May Belle had back in '32." He had little doubt that Carter had such a story and would most likely be sharing it once he recovered.

"Me too, mate," Newkirk added quietly. He looked up at Potter. "He's going to pull through, right?"

Potter scratched his jaw. "The most immediate problem is going to be infection."

"The most immediate," Kinch echoed. "What about the not so immediate problems?"

Potter looked between the two and then down at Carter. "There's always a chance of paralysis."

Kinch felt as if someone had just sucker-punched him. Colonel Hogan hadn't mentioned that. Hadn't even hinted at it, Kinch though angrily. "How big of a chance?"

Potter shrugged. "Can't say for sure. When he's awake, I'll check."

"Does the colonel know?" Newkirk asked, exchanging a glance with Kinch. So, he wasn't the only one who was mad at the colonel.

Potter shook his head. "No use in worrying him with that. He just needs to concentrate on getting penicillin. If we can't put the reins on an infection pronto, it won't matter whether he can walk or not."

"It'll matter to him," Kinch said. They could have all the penicillin they needed but if he was paralysed, Kinch wasn't sure Carter would want it. At least, if their roles were reversed, Kinch wasn't sure he would want it. Being an invalid scared him more than death.