Chapter 14

The men hurried through breakfast mainly because there was hardly anything to the gruel and black bread that was their first meal of the day. It was at times like these that the men were especially thankful for LeBeau and all his efforts to make sure they had supplementary meals. Even those were getting leaner, but most of the men chose to see this as sign the Allies were winning the war, and they could finally go home.

Back inside the barracks, the men began their morning routines of going on work parties around the camp to clean up, to exercises, and to various other activities organized by Col. Hogan to keep them focused and not depressed. The core team members moved through the door of Col. Hogan's office, with the men taking their customary places. Col. Hogan moved to his desk, took a seat, and pulled out the folded blue piece of paper. Eyes were first on Kinch, and then switched to Col. Hogan, with neither of them giving anything away.

Newkirk sighed loudly, lit up his second fag of the evening, and then finally broke the silence. "So, are we goin' ta be let in on the secret message, or what, Guv?"

Hogan scratched his chin and said, "Yeah, ok, here's what's up. It seems that our, for want of a better word, contact thinks he's being followed. He got in touch with the man who first let us know about him. Anyway, our man thinks he's being watched and wants to get out of Berlin as quickly as possible. London wants us to get in touch with Morrison and come up with a plan to get them both out of Germany as quickly as possible."

Newkirk's mind was already working on possible scenarios for the problem. Then, he remembered he was one of the core crew, not the problem solver of this bunch unless suggestions were solicited. So, he sat back on the bottom cot, lit another fag, and sucked in the smoke deeply. The nicotine hit was instantaneous. He watched as Col. Hogan wrapped his arms around his chest the way he usually did when thinking. He briefly wondered what tells he unconsciously showed when his mind was similarly occupied. He hoped there weren't a lot of them.

"Ok, Kinch, get on the radio and send a brief-and I mean very brief message to Teppel. Tell him that rendezvous at the bar on the Konigsalle; he'll know which one at say 10:00PM. That should give us enough time to make to Dusseldorf."

"As long as ole Klink decides not to do a surprise barracks inspection..." Newkirk muttered under his breath.

"Thank you, Little Miss Sunshine."

"Always 'appy to oblige, Guv," Newkirk quipped back with a smirk.

"Should I let the guard at the motor pool know about the need for transportation, sir?" Kinch piped in diverting the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"Sure, let him know, and try and get him down on his prices...there is a war on, ya know," Col. Hogan said with a smirk of his own. "Newkirk, we're going to need some uniforms, not too showy, but something to blend in with the bar. Wehrmacht...a major, a lieutenant, a corporal, and a private should work; I'll be the major, Carter, you're the lieutenant, Newkirk, the corporal, and LeBeau'll be the private. Get to work on the uniforms and the papers in case anyone-I can't imagine anyone asking for them." He ended his orders with a smile.

Everyone broke out of the huddle and went about their daily routine. Newkirk and Carter went to physical fitness, LeBeau went to the work party for cleaning the camp, and Kinch went back down into the tunnels to go about his errands. Col. Hogan went back into his office after getting a second cup of coffee and to work on his daily paperwork. Tonight, they'd face danger but he was proud of his men the way they carried on with their daily routines.

The day passed with little or no interruption to the said routine of the camp. Throughout the day, Kinch and Baker took turns manning the radio. Baker showed a lot of promise as one of the backup members of the secondary team. Meanwhile, LeBeau set about making lunch for the command crew and the rest of Barrake 2 since Klink had eliminated lunch from the day's activities in order to cut costs and ration the supplies. Both Hogan and LeBeau knew that rationing was only getting worse the longer the war dragged on for Germany. Kinch, meanwhile, came in from returning from the motor pool where he'd spent the morning after making radio contact washing the Kommandant's staff car, the one with good seats, which was also the one they'd be taking in the evening. He bypassed LeBeau and went to the office, knocking before entering.

"The motor pool guard said no go about the price reduction, but the good news is he didn't raise it again-yet," Kinch said as he stopped next to the desk.

"Well, I guess that's something. Is the staff car ready for tonight?" Hogan asked already knowing the answer.

"Sure is; I even managed the one with the good seats," Kinch said with a wide smile.

"Good, good," the colonel replied gathering up his crush cap and jacket. He followed Kinch out into the common room, and then he went down into the tunnels to check on Newkirk.

Newkirk was putting the finishing touches on the uniforms for tonight just as Colonel Hogan walked into his branch of the vast tunnel network. His branch because it house the uniforms and some of his supplies for forging documents, so he could cut down on the time it took to get to the printing room. "Guv'nor, I just finished the uniforms. I thought I'd break for lunch, and then get on the documents." He kept his hands busy straightening his sewing supplies.

"That's great. Thanks," Colonel Hogan lingered a minute to watch the Englishman straighten his area. When he'd finished straightening, he looked up at the colonel in askance. Hogan shook his head and walked to the tunnel entrance.

Newkirk sighed in relief and then followed his commander up the ladder and to lunch. During lunch, surrounded by the banter of the fellas, he let his mind wander back to his weekend with the warm, soft bed, the long soaks in the tub, and of course, wrapped in the arms of Gretchen-her smile, her laughter, and her passion.

Col. Hogan finished his lunch and observed his men as they ate. The men were trading barbs and witty comebacks; that is all except for Newkirk who was unnervingly quiet, his lunch hardly touched. "So, huh, Newkirk, whatcha thinking about, buddy?" Carter asked, also noticing the unusual silence from him during lunch. "Must be pretty good from the smile on your face," he said finishing up his lunch.

Newkirk shook himself from his reverie only to find most everyone at the table staring at him. "W'at? Can't a guy daydream about a nice bird withou' everyone goin' on?"

LeBeau, always the first to pipe up about girls, asked, "So who is it this time?"

"Rita, the fan dancer," Newkirk lied easily. In truth, he hadn't heard from her in so long he was sure she 'ad a bloke on the side. He was amazed at how much he wanted to keep this assignation with Gretchen secret. Usually, he was the first, or as close to thereabouts, bragging about his prowess with the female of the species. This time, he wanted to keep her to himself, all to himself. So, he said with a grin, "A man can daydream, can't he?"

"Just as long as you don't share 'em with us again, buddy," Carter muttered, still remembering the tale from the other night.

Newkirk laughed deep in his throat as he remembered Carter's face during the telling. It'd definitely been worth it. Lunch was over with that, and then men went back to whatever activities they had scheduled for the day, with the command crew going about their preparations for the coming trip.