XXI Little Big Man

Epilogue

Kinch welcomed his friends outside the Stalag. With the help of several men, he managed to get the car through the wire fence at the back of the camp. LeBeau set the dogs loose as a diversion for the sentries. They rolled the car to the motor pool sector and covered it with the canvas.

"What happened with Klink's staff car?" Kinch asked.

"You don't want to know." LeBeau rolled his eyes and shook his head. "It was fast, I don't think it suffered much at the end."

"Okay," Kinch sighed. "We'll have to come up with something about that." Suddenly, he grinned. "How do gremlins sound to you?"

"Why hasn't he woken up yet? It's been over two hours." Carter paced back and forth in the radio room where they had Newkirk on one cot. He rubbed his neck and stared at Wilson, the medic of Barrack 4, who was working simultaneously on different things.

"I cleaned up the wound. The infection has been out of control because of the lack of antibiotics." Wilson said. "The cauterization was well performed. It'll leave a scar, but all things considered, you managed to do it perfectly well. You could take over my job around here."

Hogan clapped Carter's shoulder. "It told you so."

"Yeah, but he's still unconscious."

"Carter, even if I were a doctor, I'm working with sticks and stones in this place. I can't diagnose anything beyond the evident. All I can do here is treat the symptoms and hope that will be enough. Maybe the high fever makes him lethargic, he also lost a lot of blood, didn't rest enough, he's dehydrated." Wilson shook his head. "We have to fight the infection to lower down the fever. There is some penicillin to start the treatment but he'll need daily doses for the next two or three weeks at least."

"We'll get it, no problem." Hogan made a mental note. "Do what you can, Wilson. Carter, you need to change those clothes before roll call. Kinch will brief you on the latest events. We'll have to play along for Schultz."

"But, Colonel. Someone has to take care of Newkirk," Carter said.

"There are a lot of volunteers here, don't worry. He won't be alone. You must be beaten too. I said I wanted you two working as a team, but I also want you both healthy and well." Hogan smiled. "Go change, let's play with Schultz and then, you'll go to sleep."

Carter sighed. He was not in the mood for charades. He would have liked to stay in the tunnel with Newkirk. But team work was what kept their secret going on. He would not jeopardize that.

Oo-HH-oO

Hogan, LeBeau and Carter sneaked into Hogan's office before Schultz opened the barrack and yelled for everybody to go outside. The sergeant looked inside, hoping to find the missing men there. The place was empty. He went hesitantly to the courtyard and started counting heads. Before he finished, LeBeau came out of the barrack and took his usual place.

"LeBeau! You're back!" Schultz almost hugged him. "Where are the others? Have you seen them?"

"They're almost here, but you must say: Come out, come out wherever you are." He smiled.

Schultz stared at him in disbelief. "You're pulling my hair."

"It's your leg, and no, I'm not pulling your leg." LeBeau glared. "Just say it. Don't you want Colonel Hogan to come back before Klink comes out?"

"Of course I want him back!"

"Then say it! As if you mean it."

Schultz sighed. For the last 12 hours, he had been walking backwards around the Stalag, reciting some ancient enchantment with a black candle in his hands. What else would it take to get the prisoners back? He mumbled resignedly. "Come out, come out wherever you are..."

Hogan opened the barrack door and pushed Carter outside. The young sergeant walked reluctantly to his post on the lines.

"Hello, Schultz," he smirked as if nothing had happened.

"Carter! Oh mein Gott! It's working!" He laughed. And repeated the rhyme a third time.

Hogan smiled at him and formed with the others. "So, what's new, Schultz?"

"Colonel Hogan, I'm so glad to see you! Oh, boy! Now Newkirk!" He said the rhyme but nothing happened. He repeated it and began to feel nervous. "Colonel, where is der Engländer?"

Kinch get closer to talk to him in whispers. "We have a problem with Newkirk."

"What problem?"

"It came to me in a dream last night." Kinch cleared his throat. "There is only chance for one more return and it's between Newkirk and Klink's staff car."

Schultz' jaw dropped. "Are you sure they can't come back together? Newkirk could get inside the car and-"

"Sorry, Schultz. It's one or the other."

"Think about it, Sergeant. Who would Klink miss the most, his car or one POW escaped from Stalag Thirteen?" Hogan's eyes narrowed.

Schultz thought about it. "But how would I explain that the car is not here anymore?"

"Tell him it was the gremlins. They reproduce a lot this time of the year and they love mechanic stuff." Kinch grinned.

"I can't tell the kommandant that there are gremlins in the Stalag. He won't believe that in a million years," Schultz said. "I'll need a better story than that, Kinch. Please. A staff car can't disappear just like that."

"All right, Schultz, I'll tell you what," Kinch said. "You report all well in the barracks and I'll see what I can do about Klink's staff car."

"You will? Can you do it?"

"Colonel Hogan is back, isn't he?" Kinch shrugged. "It might take some negotiation but you have to trust me, okay?"

The German sergeant took a few minutes to think about it. Then, he turned on his heels and went to Klink and reported everybody accounted for.

"He's actually lying to Klink?" Hogan chuckled. "How did you train him without LeBeau's strudel?"

"Just a little magic, Colonel." Kinch went back to his post and smiled proudly. "Now, I need a good excuse for the car not to come back."

Hogan stared at the piles of boxes hidden under the canvas and thought for a moment. Then, he grinned and turned to Kinch. "Tell me, do we still have the plates of that car?"

Oo-HH-oO

The rest of the day was embarrassing for Carter. LeBeau had seen to it that everybody in the Stalag knew about Carter's victory in the duel. The story had reached the status of an epic adventure. They talked about a giant and a machine gun. Gypsies armed to their teeth and Carter in the middle of the street firing one small pistol. The sergeant decided to hide from unwanted publicity and went downstairs to stay with Newkirk.

The Englishman was still unconscious. Although his condition had started to concern everybody in the Stalag, it also made him the most likable company at the moment. Carter would pass quiet hours reading Red Cross booklets to Newkirk and pretending he could hear witty remarks from him.

Hogan was not indifferent to his man's sadness. At the first opportunity, he came down to talk to him.

"You know how Newkirk is, he'll wake up when he decides it's time." Hogan sat at the radio console while Carter kept watch on the edge of the cot. "Wilson was impressed by how you took care of everything."

"I was terrified," Carter shook his head. "So many things happening at the same time. And on top of it, I almost ruined everything with that duel, didn't I?"

"Hey, I would've done the same," Hogan shrugged.

"Sure you would've," Carter chuckled. He refreshed Newkirk's forehead with a wet cloth. "Sir? Have you decided who's leaving Barrack Two yet?"

Hogan almost laughed. There it was, that question again. If only they knew that he had not given it a single thought...

"Why? Do you have any suggestions?" He tried to keep a straight face.

"Well, I think Newkirk deserves to stay. He was here first and you need him more than me," Carter sighed. "Anyone can set detonators and make explosives... I guess. But Newkirk does everything else. Forgery, safe cracking, shooting," he shrugged. "Boy if I had half of his skills..."

"I'll keep that in mind..." Hogan tapped him on the back. "I'll send someone to relieve you. You need to sleep too." He did not wait for a reply and went away.

Carter saw the colonel going up the ladder. He was alone with Newkirk again. The Englishman was still feverish and unconscious, although he would move and mumble in his dreams.

"You must wake up, Newkirk. I need you to tell me that I'm being stupid for feeling like this. I know I should give it a rest. It was a lucky shot. Even Anton Havel said so... Why am I the only one that feels bad about it?" He sighed and kept cooling Newkirk's face. He put the gloomy thoughts behind and talked to him about the events of the day.

"...and the other day, Kennedy from Barrack Seven taught me how to play Blackjack-" he said distractedly as he put in order a pile of papers on the radio console.

"That ruddy Irish couldn't tell Blackjack from Old Maid..." Newkirk's voice was hoarse but getting stronger.

Carter turned to the cot and held his breath. "Newkirk?"

"It ain't the bloody Duke of Windsor." He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Blimey! Don't tell me we're back in the tunnels."

"Yes! We are!" Carter came to sit on the edge of the cot. He could not stop smiling. "We came back this morning and-"

"What time is it?"

"Past four."

"I've been sleeping almost two hours?" Newkirk tried to sit up. "Blimey, why didn't you wake me up? I missed roll call, didn't I?"

"Hey, you weren't asleep. It's four o'clock in the afternoon, you've been unconscious for almost twelve hours. We thought you've gone into a coma. You scared us all." Carter did not let him move. "But now, everything's all right. We're all back and things will be all right." He stood up. "Stay right there, I'll bring the others. We'll take you upstairs and you'll feel better."

Oo-HH-oO

With Newkirk back in Barrack 2, things at the Stalag returned to normal. They installed him in Carter's bunk to avoid sudden and painful movement. Hogan did not have to exaggerate when he reported Newkirk's condition to Klink. Of course, he did not elaborate much on the nature of the illness. But was emphatic to say that the corporal would not be able to stand on roll call or walk around any time soon.

"I gave you twenty-four hours, Colonel. Now I want to see the corporal." Klink was prepared for another exchange of useless explanations but he found none.

"Sure." Hogan shrugged. "He's asleep now. The fever left him very weak." He opened the barrack door and entered first.

At the first sight, Klink stepped back and covered his mouth with his handkerchief. The Englishman was too pale and consumed. Dark shades circled his eyes and his skin still had a feverish glow.

"Are you sure he's not longer contagious?"

"I wouldn't be this close if he were," Hogan came to check the temperature. "His skin's rather cool now."

At the touch of Hogan's hand Newkirk shivered and opened his eyes. He looked at Klink first and gasped. "Nanny?" He squinted.

Hogan crouched down and laid his hand on the corporal's shoulder. "Newkirk? Kommandant Klink has come to see how you're doing."

Newkirk smiled faintly. "Of course, I was wondering what me Nanny was doing in me bedroom with Father Christmas." He turned to Schultz. "Hello there, lad."

Klink straightened up. "Colonel Hogan, your man is excused from the next roll call. Make sure he's present for tomorrow morning!" He stepped out.

Schultz could not be happier. "Hey, Newkirk, how do you feel?"

"Beaten, but coming back," he smiled.

"Those gypsies and their curses," he shook his head. "Did they hurt you much?"

Newkirk's face hardened suddenly. For a moment, he could only see Schultz's uniform and feel anger. He had to close his eyes and turn to the wall.

"Newkirk?" Schultz was concerned. "Are you okay?"

Carter turned to see LeBeau and Kinch. After telling them the Romany story, it was easy for them to understand Newkirk's discomfort.

Hogan nodded to Schultz. He sat down on the bunk and touched the corporal's shoulder. "It's okay, Schultz. He's just tired, right Newkirk?"

The Englishman turned to see them and smiled again. "Sorry, about that... The gypsies saved me life, Schultz. They are good people. Please, don't ever forget that." He reached for the German sergeant's hand and squeezed it with the little strength he had left.

"I won't forget." Schultz smiled and nodded. "I'll talk to the kommandant to excuse you for the next five roll calls, all right?"

Newkirk sighed. "That'd be delightful... Thanks."

As soon as he left, Kinch took out one piece of paper for Hogan to read. Then, he reached in their files for one map of the area and spread it on the table. Carter and LeBeau sat down and Newkirk rolled over to see too.

"Dalibor's report confirmed the presence of a clandestine factory of anti aerial artillery in this area." Hogan showed them the coordinates. "Carter, Kinch and LeBeau will take the explosives. Carter, set the detonators for tomorrow at seventeen hundred hours, roughly ten minutes after the last convoy with materials arrives."

"That will be like striking two turkeys with the same slingshot," Carter grinned.

"Well, you must be the one to know, Andrew," Newkirk replied from his bunk.

"You're grounded for this game, Newkirk, stick to your needlework, " Kinch looked up at him and smiled.

Carter was happy just to see Newkirk there after all the times he had thought he had lost him. It would take him still one or two weeks before going back on the field, though. The convalescence period had just begun and it seemed it would be long and tedious for everyone.

"With this job and the one on Klink's staff car, this is gonna look like New Year's Eve," Hogan said.

"Hey, why don't we throw a party tomorrow afternoon?" LeBeau said. "I'll bake a cake, we'll have wine, and Carter will get the fireworks..."

"A party for what?" Carter asked warily.

"We have to celebrate. You completed your first mission. This is the second target this week provided by Dalibor. And it's all because of your-"

"If you mention that infamous duel one more time, LeBeau-"

"Gentlemen, back to the map, please?" Hogan called to order. "Carter will set the explosives and the detonators in the factory and in the motor pool, and we'll have a party. I can ask Klink for real wine. We'll tell them we're celebrating Hitler's birthday."

"It's not his birthday, is it?" Carter frowned.

"No, but we're POW, we lose track of time." Hogan shrugged. "Klink wouldn't deny us a celebration for the Fuhrer."

Oo-HH-oO

Next day, back to present time.

"Come on, Carter," Newkirk insisted. "It was a good number. You can't deny it."

"But I shot one man. That's not what I do. I'm- was a good person." Carter shook his head. "I don't want to celebrate that; and even when they say it's for Hitler, I know they're doing it for me. I read what LeBeau wrote on the cake: Way to go, Cart." He saw Newkirk's stare and he shrugged. "It's a small cake; not much room for the whole name."

Newkirk laughed but stopped when Carter glared. He took a purposeful breath and turned to him.

"All right, Andrew. I was going to take this to me grave, but since I'm still here and you're still moping about, I suppose it's time for you to know the truth."

Carter stared at him and raised an eyebrow. "What truth?"

"The night of the shooting... You were in front of Anton Havel and I was behind you, watching from the jail window. There was a heavy thunderstorm and the lamp posts barely illuminated the street. Remember?"

"As if it was yesterday, but-"

"Let me finish." The pain made him wince. "Anton shouted something at you, you shouted something at him and then... Thunder roared. It sounded like one shot but there were actually two shots that rang out that night. A shot made Anton drop his pistol... mine."

Carter's eyes opened wide. He stared at Newkirk while his mind travelled back in time to that moment. He reviewed the event over and over again. What seemed completely crazy began to make sense.

"No, no way! You were too sick. That's impossible. You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Well, yeah, but it's also the truth." Newkirk shrugged and felt lighter. "Does it work? D'you actually feel better?"

"No!... Well, a little..." Carter sighed. "So it wasn't me after all." He considered the new development. "Then, you shot and failed?"

"I didn't fail," Newkirk said with a touch of pride. "I never waste me shots. I couldn't kill the man, he's Sabina's father. He's sort of noisy but a good bloke anyway. I saved your neck and his, no harm done."

Carter kept quiet for a moment before his thoughts began to charge his conscience again. "But, the party! Everybody thinks I'm the hero of the story! I didn't win Dalibor for the Allies. It was you!"

"Oh, no. That was you, Carter. I almost killed that wanker, remember? Besides, I'm not going to tell LeBeau to change Way to go, Cart to Way to go, Newk on the cake. It was just a lucky shot," he snorted. "Who cares who did it, anyway?"

"I do. This is a lie!" Carter's brow wrinkled with guilt. He squeezed Sabina's toy against his chest. "Oh, Gosh, even Anton Havel thought I shot him. You should've told him-"

"What? I nearly broke his jaw with me pistol when we met, I snatched Dalibor off his hands, I kidnapped his daughter and on top of it, I shot him sneakily," Newkirk said. "If I'd told him about that, he would've broken me neck in two!"

"Well, that's right," Carter conceded. "But how can you live with this, Newkirk?"

"I was only watching your back," Newkirk said. "I can't be sorry about that."

Hogan came out of Klink's office and found his two men sitting outside the recreation hall. "There you are, Newkirk." He took a seat next to him. "Wilson's been looking all over for you."

"Blimey, not again," he whined.

"Don't be a baby, it's just a needle." Carter clapped him on the knee.

"Just a needle?" Newkirk frowned. "That bloody thing is the size of a bottle of milk and the needle looks like a spear! It takes one whole minute to empty it down and it hurts just to the last drop. Twice a day for the next bleeding two weeks!"

"But after the treatment, you'll feel like a million bucks," Hogan grinned.

"After the treatment, I won't be able to sit down for a year." Newkirk winced. "I'm bruised all over already. Feel like a ruddy pincushion."

Hogan smiled. Twelve hours of an unconscious Newkirk was more than they could ever bear. It was just good to hear him cursing and complaining again. Then, he glanced at Carter, who sat there brooding again. "Hey, what's with the long face, Sergeant? If it's about someone leaving the barrack, well. I think I overreacted... Both of you are indispensable and irreplaceable. No one is moving out, I promise. "

"You owe me ten quids," Newkirk said to Carter.

"You knew?" Hogan frowned.

"Not exactly... I figured out that you wouldn't have the gu- heart, sir," Newkirk said with an innocent smile. "That you wouldn't have the heart."

Carter shook his head trying to avoid eye contact with the colonel but he gave up. "I can't do this, Newkirk. I have to tell the colonel at least."

Newkirk stared a Carter on his right and Hogan on his left and leaned back so they could see each other. He shrugged. "It's your story, mate."

"Tell me what?" Hogan got concerned. "Carter, tell me you didn't forget the detonators again."

"Oh, no, sir. Those are just fine... I promise. Best fireworks ever." Carter leaned forward to have a better look at Hogan. "It's about the duel of the other night... the one with Anton Ha-"

"I know what duel that is. The only one we've had around here."

"Well, sir. I know that you were there and... sometimes things aren't as they seem... what I mean is that you saw me... and Mr Havel... and a thunderstorm..."

"Carter, I know you didn't hit the man," Hogan said.

Once again, Carter was the only one surprised . "What is it with you people? Don't you think I'm capable of shooting a man?"

"Not without a good reason, I hope." Hogan smiled. "But, I'm sorry. You were way too nervous, your hands were shaking and the light was poor. No way you could hit the man with just one clean shot at that distance."

Newkirk did not react, as if he had seen that coming all along.

"Newkirk, on the other hand, was trained as a shooter by the RAF.* He would hit a feather falling from the sky during a hurricane. Right, Corporal?" He patted him on the knee.

Newkirk snorted. "Hope you'll never ask me to do that, Gov'nor."

"But, but the guys, they think-"

"They don't think anything," Hogan said. "They're celebrating that you two came back in one piece... more or less. That you, Carter managed to complete the mission under adverse circumstances and," he clapped Newkirk's arm, "kept our dearest Englishman alive, all at the same time. Anton Havel admires your courage. You dared to confront him face to face even when the odds were against you. Don't let other things overshadow your accomplishments, Sergeant. I'm proud of you. We're all proud of both of you."

"Please, don't tell me that we deserve a medal for this too. If I don't see those bloody things coming soon, I'll start stealing me own." Newkirk smiled.

"All right, I suppose I can live with what you say, Colonel. But what about Newkirk? He's the real man who shot Anton Havel."

"Almost five, sir," said Kinch, coming out of the recreation hall.

Hogan and Carter stood up to pull Newkirk to his feet. Everybody began to congregate outside, staring at the sunset. Fall was almost over, the rains were few, just as a break before the winter snows. Before the fifth stroke of the clock in Klink's office, a big bang from the clandestine factory shuddered every building in the Stalag.

Seconds later, the pile of junk standing for Klink's staff car blew out under the canvas. Klink rushed out of his office at the very same minute that the plates of the car fell from the sky to his feet. Hogan and Newkirk laughed and congratulated Carter.

"Nice work, Sergeant," Hogan said.

"Smashing timing, mate!"

Everybody cheered and went back to the recreation hall.

Sergeant Schultz dared to give Carter one thumb up. Now, he only had to bear Klink's complaining about the RAF bombers sneaking over the Stalag to destroy his precious car.

"Happy Birthday, Hitler, and many more like this!" LeBeau yelled and turned to Carter. "Come, we still have to sing For He's a Jolly Good Fellow. Are you coming too, Colonel?"

"In a minute." Hogan had Newkirk by the arm "I promised Wilson I'd bring Newkirk for his shot and then, make sure he'd stay in bed for the rest of the evening."

"Hold his hand and tell him a story, that'll keep his mind away from the needle." Carter grinned.

"Go to the bleeding party, Cart," the British corporal glared.

Hogan nodded. "It's okay to feel like you do, Carter. That's better than feeling nothing at all. We can't allow the war to change us that much, you know." He turned to him one more time before start walking. "And remember; when the legend becomes fact, print the legend."(1)

Carter frowned as he gave some deep thought to the colonel's words. Then, he heard the last of his explosives on the factory, he saw his friends' looks of relief at one less threat to the Allies' planes, and Newkirk, healing smoothly. Becoming a legend did not seem too high a price all of a sudden...

He turned to enter the recreation hall. Sabina's toy was on the bench. Carter picked it up and smiled. He held the stick vertically, bounced his arm up and down... and the ball fell gracefully into the cup.

IL FINE

Little Big Man (1970)

*The Experts season 6 episode 2

Quote from The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)(but I'm pretty sure they stole it from Colonel Hogan)

Well, this is it. I hope it didn't disappointed you at the end. It's been so much fun all the way. Your reviews are the best part of it, I feel more than welcomed in the FF universe. I've got to thank you all for staying with me till the end. I'll be on the back seat for a while, reading and reviewing your exciting stories. My next story is on the making but I'd rather start publishing it after it's already finished. I don't want to give much of it away just yet, but it is going to be more on the supernatural side and see how it goes.

Again, thank you for reading and reviewing. See you at the Fanfics ;)

Sierra...