Chapter 21- Home Again

"I can make it!" Hebblethwaite objected when Hogan suggested using a sling to get the injured pilot down the ladder into the emergency tunnel.

Hogan raised a questioning eyebrow. The young man had regained his senses, but he was still very wobbly on his feet and had been half carried by Bigglesworth from where Carter had dropped them off, through the dark forest to the edge of camp.

"Ginger, you're hurt," Bigglesworth said in a tone of strained patience. "If you go falling down that ladder you'll just end up worse."

"I'm fine, I can make it!" he insisted again and tried to stand up from where they were crouching behind a carefully cultivated screen of vegetation, hidden from the guard towers. He made it half way to his feet before one knee gave out and he collapsed again. Bigglesworth caught him and lowered him back down gently and quietly.

"Stay still and do as you're told," Bigglesworth snapped at him, worry and irritation vying for supremacy in his tone. "Or you'll get us all killed or captured."

Hebblethwaite glared at him.

The spotlights were still down, and in response Klink had sent patrols out to walk the outside of the wire. Not close enough to be a problem for the three airmen, but the guards were nervously reactive and would likely shoot at the slightly unusual noise. Hogan had already heard a few shots off in the distance and didn't want to give the Germans any reason to spray this part of the forest with bullets.

"I'm overriding you," Hogan said. He didn't like pulling rank, but in this case it was the only way to curtail an argument. "I don't care that we're in different services, I still outrank both of you and you are going down in a sling- and that's an order. The guards out there aren't going to wait to identify what the noise is, they're going to shoot first and you're not in any condition to move quietly enough."

Bigglesworth nodded. "You heard the order, Ginger, you go down in a sling."

Hebblethwaite also looked like he was going to rebel again, but the resolute look on his superiors' faces made him back down. "Yes, sir," he said.

Hogan slithered across to a fallen tree and felt around in the decayed wood and leaf litter under it until his fingers met a solid wooden square. The cover to the hidey hole had been carefully disguised to hide it from even the most careful of searches. Within the hole was a long rope with a canvas loop at one end. He pulled it out and took it to where the other two were still crouched, watching him carefully.

"Hebblethwaite, put your arms through here," Hogan instructed, holding the sling out and helping the young man into it. "Bigglesworth, you remember how the tunnel works?"

Bigglesworth nodded.

"You go in first to help Ginger into tunnel. I'll stay here to deal with this end. Hebblethwaite, you'll need to use the ladder as much as you can, the sling is only there to make sure you don't fall if you pass out. When you're down and clear of the sling, give it three tugs, I'll pull it back and follow you down."

Hebblethwaite looked less put out when Hogan finished explaining the procedure. It wasn't that he was being treated as though he was helpless, just being given the support he needed.

"You've done this before?" Bigglesworth asked.

Hogan nodded, "Sometime our clients are incapacitated," he said. "And the tunnel's not the easiest thing to get a stretcher down. We're lucky this time that you're conscious, it'll make the whole thing faster and easier. Ready?"

Both Hebblethwaite and Bigglesworth nodded.

Hogan watched a patrol pass along the fence line below them, then indicated to Bigglesworth who helped Hebblethwaite to his feet and over to the tunnel entrance. It was a heroic effort on all their parts, but within a few minutes all three airmen were safely in the tunnel below and an intensely relieved young woman was exchanging a passionate kiss with Hebblethwaite as he sat on the floor, supported by one of the rough beams.

Kinch was standing to one side, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, watching with a small, enigmatic smile on his lips and a stretcher propped up beside him.

"Good job with the generator, Kinch," Hogan said.

"It was mostly Kestrel's doing. I think she has some anger issues. She found a collection of Carter's chemicals and made it look like the generator blew up, they'll need a new one before power is up and running again."

"What about the radio, is it working?" Hogan asked. He really didn't want to be without the radio for any length of time again.

"We've got a series of car batteries rigged up, it won't last forever, but long enough for the krauts to get a replacement generator."

Hogan clapped him on the shoulder and exchanged a nod with the quietly competent man. "One last thing, can you get Wilson and bring him to the guest room? Hebblethwaite needs to be checked over."

"Will do, Colonel," Kinch said. "Do you need a hand with the stretcher?"

"I think we can manage."

This time Hebblethwaite didn't object to being carried as he was sound asleep in Kestrel's arms. Exhaustion, relief and the sudden release of tension sending him firmly into the arms of Morpheus.

"How is he?" Hogan asked Kestel.

"Hurt, scared, exhausted," she replied. "He'll be fine, but…"

She didn't finish, she didn't need to. Hogan understood her unspoken concerns. Hebblethwaite would have nightmares about this for quite some time to come; there was no way to avoid it. He would have fears he would need to face before he could become an effective member of his squadron again. He was lucky, in a way, that he had such a strong support structure, and the compassionate glance that Bigglesworth had given Kestrel reassured Hogan that the older man, Hebblethwaite's mentor and father figure, knew what he would go through and be able to help him. Kestrel, too, knew and understood the trauma and would help him face the demons which would inevitably haunt him.

Kestrel eased Hebblethwaite onto the stretcher and Bigglesworth and Hogan picked it up, carrying it through the tunnels to the central hub and safety. Wilson was waiting for them, looking sleep tousled and a little grumpy, to take charge of his patient, whisking him into the small side room Kestrel had been using to do his examination and dress the young pilot's numerous injuries. Kestrel went with him to act as nurse.

Hogan's uniform was waiting for him and he was glad to change back into his familiar clothing, giving the now filthy RAF uniform back to Bigglesworth who also seemed relieved to divest himself of the Luftwaffe uniform.

"It's a bit worse for wear, I'm afraid," Hogan said, as Bigglesworth examined a new tear in one of the sleeves, "Newkirk can get that fixed for you."

"It was worth it. This can go into your store of disguises," Bigglesworth said, tossing the German great coat onto the table and then glanced at his watch. It was 4.30am. "What time is roll call?"

"5.30am," Hogan replied.

"Will your men get back in time?"

"I hope so, otherwise I might need a stand in or two."

"I'd be happy to oblige."

There was a faint clatter from the other end of the emergency tunnel and a few moments later Carter appeared, struggling out of the German coat.

"That's one," Hogan said. "Any trouble, Carter?"

"No sir," Carter said, "I left it on one of the forest roads towards Hammelburg, you know, the one which used to lead to that research place we blew up a few months back."

"Good job," Hogan congratulated him. "Get changed and head up stairs. Try to get a bit of sleep before roll call, it's been a long night for all of us, and at least someone should get some shut eye before we have to watch Klink blow his fuse."

Hogan was dozing at the map table, and Bigglesworth was stretched out on a bench when the footsteps sounded in the tunnel again almost an hour later and Newkirk and Lebeau turned up.

Hogan jerked awake as they came down the tunnel, weariness dragging at their feet. Hogan rubbed at his eyes. "I'm glad you're back, just in time for roll call. Any trouble?"

"Von Stalhein was making a hell of a racket when we got there," Newkirk said with a tired grin, "I think he was trying to break down the door. He seemed a bit put out about something."

"Our friends are safe?"

"Oui," Lebeau said, "A transport truck loaded with soldiers passed us heading towards the farm not long after we got onto the main road. We were driving without lights, so we had just enough time to get off the road and kill the engine before they noticed us. I think I recognised Hoffmann in the front."

"He didn't waste any time," Hogan said. A knot of worry formed in his stomach. He and Bigglesworth had done his best to ensure that there was no connection between the rescue and the prisoners of Stalag 13, but both Hoffmann and von Stalhein were wily characters and he fully expected to see them turn up with difficult questions.

"The underground agents dropped us off and took the car," Newkirk said, "They'll get rid of it somewhere far away."

"That's as good as we can hope for right now," Hogan said. "Get changed and get up stairs, it's almost time for roll call."

Newkirk sighed. "I hope old Rusty doesn't want to keep us hanging around out there forever, I could use about three weeks sleep after this little adventure."

"I can't promise three weeks," Hogan said with a small smile for his men, "But for the next week, no missions, no matter what."