Hogan paced the tunnel back and forth from the radio room to the outside telescope, "Anything?"
"Not yet, sir," Kinch answered without taking his eyes away from the telescope.
"The raid was over an hour ago, they should have been back by now. What could they be doing?"
"Chasing Frauleins," Kinch answered trying to lighten the mood.
Hogan gave him a dirty look. "Those will be the last Frauleins they see for a very long time."
"You're more anxious than normal sir. What's going on?"
"I should have gone out with them," Hogan said running a hand over his face.
"We've all gone out to bring in downed flyers lots of times. Why are you so concerned about tonight's rescues?" Kinch thought he knew, but Hogan was acting unusually apprehensive.
"My gut. Can't explain it, but my gut tells me it's not an ordinary night. What if they run into Kohl? We must find that man. Our operation can't run as normal until he's dealt with permanently. This will be our last mission until he's found. We're focusing all our energy on locating him," Hogan decided pacing around the tunnel. "Klink will let us out during the day to pick a local farmer's crop, and we'll use that time to do some reconnaissance. This is one job we'll give Hochstetter all the help we can until it's complete; never thought we'd be on the same side about anything."
"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?" Kinch asked leaning against the telescope.
"Something like that. Anything yet?"
Kinch looked into the telescope not seeing anything. "I'm sure they're fine, sir. They'll be back soon with some story to tell true or fictional, hopefully with a few airmen in tow."
"They better be, if they're not back in an hour then we're going out to search for them," Hogan ordered as he started pacing again.
"Yes, sir," Kinch answered as worried, wondering if they'd wait that long before going out.
Several shots fired from multiple guns. LeBeau dropped down from the tree, rolled on the ground, aimed and fired at Kohl. Kohl shot at Fuchs. Fuchs went down to his knee then rolled left out of Kohl's fire unloading his clip into Kohl's body, then watched as his body twisted from being shot from behind. Fuchs dropped the empty clip and instantly slapped another one into his gun. Newkirk also turned his rifle towards the direction the unknown bullets came from.
"Lieutenant, are you all right?" An American asked coming into view; his gun pointed at Fuchs.
"I'm good, glad to see you safe," Saunders said sitting up. "Gentlemen this is my navigator, Sergeant Ken Clark. I'll let you do the introductions."
"Is he someone we want to trust?" Clark indicated Fuchs with his gun still pointed at the Gestapo officer.
"I don't know the whole story, but yeah he's okay. Lower your weapon," Saunders ordered. Clark complied and LeBeau came around from where he'd encircled behind the sergeant lowering his gun. LeBeau reached down and took Kohl's gun.
"Introductions can wait. We need to get out of here before those shots draw unwanted attention. Anyone injured?" Fuchs ordered looking around at the men for which he felt responsible.
"Yeah," Newkirk admitted holding his backside.
"Mon ami, what happened!" LeBeau gasped kneeling down beside his friend.
"Kohl got off a lucky shot," Newkirk answered with blood dripping through his fingers.
Fuchs took out his knife and cut a piece of the parachute then went over to Newkirk and LeBeau. LeBeau's eyes were glazing over. Fuchs grabbed and shook him hard. "LeBeau, we need you! Do whatever you need to do so you don't pass out. We have to get out of here before we're all really captured."
LeBeau took several deep breaths then shook his head, "I'm okay. We need to get out of here. Should we bury the chute?"
"No, we don't have time," Fuchs said wrapping Newkirk's wound with the make shift bandage. "Can you walk?"
"I'll do me best," Newkirk stood up with LeBeau's help.
"You've always been a pain in the ass," LeBeau teased then grabbed a hold of his friend as he swayed for a moment.
"I'm warning you," Newkirk answered with his teeth gritted together. "I'm okay, we should go."
"LeBeau, you're responsible for Newkirk. Sergeant, can you help me with the lieutenant?" Fuchs asked. Clark stood on the other side of his commander as both men helped him stand up.
Saunders' eyes hadn't left Kohl's body. "You killed one of your own men," he was slightly bewildered by the fact.
"Nein, he was a Nazi. I'm a German," Fuchs answered as they started walking away.
"You need a score card to tell who the players are around here," Saunders replied. He had both arms around the necks of the men helping him walk, unable to put weight on his injured leg.
"You don't know the half of it," Newkirk muttered as they started back to camp. The journey was slow and arduous due to the mud and injuries. Fuchs kept them on trails for as long as possible so they wouldn't leave boot prints. They had to stop and let both Saunders and Newkirk rest every so often. LeBeau was holding on, but the blood on the uniforms made him queasy so he muttered to himself in French in order to not pass out.
"Colonel, they're back," Kinch said spotting the partying making their way to the tunnel entrance. He lowered the telescope turning to look Hogan in the eye. "Bluebird and a couple of rescued soldiers are with them, one's injured, and it looks like Newkirk is limping."
Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose then called down the tunnel, "Someone get Wilson. He's got wounded. Let's get everyone down here." Kinch climbed up the ladder opening the tunnel entrance after the searchlight had flooded the area.
"This is a…prisoner of war camp," Sergeant Clark was apprehensive as they all ducked for the security light. "We're not going in there."
"Non, you're going underneath it. See," LeBeau pointed to where Kinch had popped up through the tree trunk. "Go down first and we'll lower the lieutenant down. They'll need help getting him below."
Clark hesitated for a moment and Saunders gave him a nod to go ahead. When he got to the bottom of the ladder and stepped off surprise showed in his eyes to see a colonel next to him. "Sir, my LT's hurt. He needs help."
"Don't worry, we have a medic standing by," Hogan assured the young man, then all three helped the injured pilot down. Two of Hogan's men carried Saunders back to the infirmary on a stretcher with his sergeant staying close. Newkirk came down the ladder next, LeBeau followed and Fuchs was last down. When the entrance had been secured Hogan took in the group. "What happened?"
"Got in a bit of a fire fight with Kohl," Newkirk answered leaning against the wall. Hogan ushered them all towards the infirmary as they talked.
"Don't worry he's dead," Fuchs said before Hogan could explode.
"Who shot him?" Hogan demanded; worry making his voice raise an octave or two.
"Everyone including Clark," LeBeau started then explained about the shoot-out. When they reached the infirmary Newkirk laid down on his side on one of the cots as Wilson and Graham were working on Saunders' leg.
"How did Newkirk get hurt?" Hogan asked standing out of the medic's way, but keeping an eye out on Newkirk at the same time.
"Kohl didn't go down easy. He got off a couple of lucky shots," Fuchs explained waiting next to Hogan.
Wilson came over to the group. "The lieutenant will be fine. He caught some flak on the ride down, but it didn't damage his femoral artery. Graham will have him stitched up in a few minutes, and he'll be able to travel in a week or so. I'll examine Newkirk now."
"Thank you," Hogan said turning back to Fuchs. "Are we sure Kohl's dead? Any chances it'll come back to play on you or us?"
"He had about a dozen bullets riddling his body. He's no longer a concern. I don't think that it'll come back on any of us," Fuchs swayed.
Hogan grabbed him before he hit the ground and laid him down. His hand pulled back covered in blood from Fuchs's side. The black of his uniform had covered his injury, "Fritz…Fritz…"
Clark helped Hogan move the unconscious captain onto a cot. "Colonel, he never said a word the entire trip that he'd been hurt," Clark's eyes were wide watching the medics tend to their newest patient.
Hogan stood silently with his arms crossed eyes darting back and forth from Fuchs to Newkirk.
He came to bring fresh supplies to his friend but the sight he found of Kohl laying in a pool of his own blood nearly made him lose his stomach contents. He reached down and touched his neck feeling for a pulse. Kohl opened his eyes and took a gasping raspy breath recognising his friend. He placed his ear close to hear Kohl's soft words, "Hochstetter…Fuchs…traitors…"