A/N: This chapter marks a departure, in that it contains both timelines…They are separate and clearly marked.

November 1944

Stalag 13

Carter shoved Newkirk back, though he nearly lost his balance in the process. "I'm fine, Peter, relax!"

Predictably, Newkirk exploded. "Fine! Like hell! You died on us you idiot! You were bleedin' like a stuck pig! Your bloody heart stopped!" He turned to face the others in the barracks. "Fine, he says!"

The others couldn't help but chuckle…both at the confusion on Carter's face, and at the passionate display of righteous indignation from their volatile Englishman.

Behind Newkirk, Carter had begun to sway on his feet, and it was Wilson who caught him before he fell. His rant forgotten, Peter helped the medic put Andrew back to bed on the cot, and Wilson re-established the IVs he had torn loose getting out of bed and sternly forbade him from moving for at least 48 hours—although Joe sincerely—and accurately—doubted the boy would stay down for longer than two or three. There was just too much to do and too little time.

Three hours later, Carter sat cross-legged on his bunk going through the things that had been in his friend Walt Fitzsimmons footlocker. In deference to Wilson, he still had an IV running into one arm, the bottle hanging from the top of Newkirk's bunk. He was sorting Fitz's things out and packing them so that Colonel Hogan could send them back to his widow as soon as they could. There wasn't a whole lot. His wedding ring, his dog tags, a couple of paperback novels, a few letters, and some other odds and ends. And then, Carter found the photograph.

"Hey, did you guys know Fitz had a kid?"

The others shook their heads. Fitz didn't talk much about home. Didn't talk much about anything. Which was probably because Carter did enough talking for the both of them. He had been one of the quietest members of Barracks Two. Carter held up the photo of Fitz in his dress uniform holding a little boy of about two or so on his hip, Fitz looking as if he could take on the world single-handedly. Andrew turned the photo over. "Kid's name is Johnny. He was two when this was taken." He looked around at the others. "Says it was taken the day he shipped over here." Carter's heart broke for Walt, for his wife, and for the little boy in the photo.

It was very quiet in the barracks for a very long time.

~HH~

June 1964

Dust-Off Point

North Vietnam

The prisoners made it out of the jungle and to the beach in nearly record time. Hogan began to think that he had it wrong. And that bothered him, because he knew there was no way the enemy was going to just let that many prisoners walk away scot-free. He had radioed LeBeau to send the choppers, and he could hear them arriving just before the trucks broke out of the canopy.

And that was when all hell broke loose. There was scattered gunfire from the trees and the men were quick to return fire. The fight grew frenzied, because there was no way any of the prisoners were going to allow themselves to be recaptured. On board the helicopter containing the orphans, things were particularly chaotic, though the children were not panicked. They seemed merely resigned to whatever happened.

If Murdock had had time, he could have told the others he was not surprised at their attitude. But as it was, it was all he could do to keep them in the air. He finally reached the beach and relative safety as the gunners on the other ships opened fire on the enemy ground troops. He wanted to stay and help, but he knew his first priorities were the children and the wounded, and so he headed straight for the hospital ship.

~HH~

Deck of the Celeste Marie

Murdock landed and was happy to see that the crew was well organized and ready for them. The chopper was emptied quickly and efficiently. Off to one side, he watched a pretty dark-haired young woman threw her arms around a tall young blond soldier. Of course, he couldn't hear what the two said, but the passionate kiss they shared just before he ran towards Murdock's ship wasn't hard to read at all. Murdock smiled. Love was a good thing…kept you on your toes.

He also watched as an Army captain dispersed his men amongst the rescue choppers and then jumped onto his chopper, his rifle at the ready. Two gunners piled on behind him and took their places by the doors. He was used to commanding officers who led their men into harm's way, and then stood well out of danger themselves. Apparently, this man was not cut from that particular cloth. It took only the man's introduction to explain it. His piercing blue eyes met Murdock's own brown eyes briefly. "I'm Captain Hannibal Smith. We need to get our guys off the beach."

Murdock nodded. Smith's reputation was well known theatre-wide. And Murdock felt a helluva lot better about their chances. Because if you asked anyone who had worked with the captain, they would tell you the same thing. "Smith? I'd follow that man into Hell if you asked me."

The blond soldier jumped in with them and introduced himself as well. He was wearing BDUs and carried an M-16. "I'm Cadet Andy Carter, West Point."

Murdock cocked his head and regarded the younger man carefully. Obviously, somebody had pulled some strings for the kid to be here. "You look exactly like your father."

Andy's eyes lit up. "You've seen him, then? Is he alright?"

Murdock grinned. "He'll do. He's on his way to the beach with the others. He was navigating under his own power last I saw him. You should see him soon."

Andy smiled. "Thanks, Lieutenant!"

Captain Smith looked at the pilot. "Lets get this bird off the ground!"

Murdock nodded, and they lifted off the deck of the ship, headed towards the shore. Sure enough, In just a few minutes, they heard the exchange of gunfire from the narrow strip of beach.

~HH~

The men on the beach were engaged in a fight for their lives. Fortunately, the M-16s they had gotten from Taffy coupled with the three trucks they had liberated from the camp combined to save their lives. On top of this, Andrew was making very good use of the pile of grenades he had stockpiled. Altogether, they had mounted a fairly decent defense, but they were all happy when they heard the choppers coming. It wasn't long before they had some very welcome air support as the door gunners on board the helicopters joined in the fight.

The exchange of gunfire was heated, but the choppers managed to land and pick up the men in the midst of the fight. The big gunships took as many as possible and took off for the ship, making the trips as quickly as they could. There were a number of the soldiers who had come on that first trip who stayed behind to lay covering fire for the escaping POWs. There were quite a few POWs who wanted to stay behind and fight, but Hogan insisted they all get to the ship. Hannibal stayed on the door of the gunship, with Andy Carter handling the other door gun. It turned out they made an extremely accurate team. They had made several trips to the ship before Andy finally found his father.

Andrew had finally exhausted his supply of grenades. All of the POWs had been evacuated and most of the other men had left the beach. Charlie was only making scattered attempts at firing at the helicopters. The last of the men climbed into the two other remaining helicopters and headed for the ship. They were the last ones left. As Murdock lifted off, Andrew lobbed his last round of grenades at the three trucks, and a tremendous explosion rocked the beach. It was a spectacular sight and would have been a fitting end to the mission, except for the stray shrapnel that flew up and smacked Captain Smith in the head, nearly knocking him from his perch at the open doorway.

As it was, Andrew grabbed him, and pulled him into the chopper, barely keeping him from falling out. Andrew pulled the helmet from his head, quickly assessing the bleeding wound. Fortunately, it was only a crease, and he was able stop the bleeding by using the gauze padding and bandages Andy handed him from the first aid kit. He looked up to thank him, and for the first time realized who had handed him the items. He smiled at his son. "Thanks for coming to get me, kiddo."

Andy grinned. "No problem, Pops."

A moment later, Andrew frowned when he realized that something had fallen out of Hannibal's helmet. He reached out and picked it up. It was an old photograph. And Andrew instantly realized he had seen it before. He looked intently at the semi-conscious captain and then back at the photo.

Hannibal stirred, opened his eyes, and squinted painfully at Carter. His eyes widened when he saw the photo in Carter's hand. "Please, be careful with that. It belonged to my dad. It's the only thing I have left of him."

Carter paled. Memories of another war in another place hit him like a ton of bricks. He had never forgotten that picture, nor Walt's son. Without turning it over, without ever seeing the back, he blurted out, "Oh, my God! You're Johnny Fitzsimmons!"

~TBC~