THREE MILES SOUTHEAST OF STALAG THIRTEEN

Four men stole through the shadows, jogging from the cover of one tree to the next bush. They kept low to the ground and were silent as they approached the fence. Previous reconnaissance had told them that at this time of night, the young dutiful guard had gone off duty - replaced by the one who liked to catch a few winks before the lieutenant came to inspect the fence line.

The group came to a stop and crouched down.

"Carter," Hogan whispered. "Clip the wire."

Carter crawled up to the heavy gauged wire, pulled out his cutters, and started to clip the bottom wire.

"LeBeau…"

"North end of the compound," LeBeau whispered before Hogan could get the question out. "Under the barrels of gunpowder."

"Newkirk."

"West side, by all those lovely petrol drums."

Hogan nodded approvingly then turned to Carter, who had finished clipping one side, four squares up, then started down the other side. "Carter?"

"Just a sec," he muttered, finishing his task and pulling the cut section up to allow them through. He settled back and slipped the wire cutters into his canvas bag. "I'll be in the warehouse," he said seriously. "I'll plant my packs and be out before one - that'll give us thirty minutes to get home and tucked in before she goes up."

"Right," Hogan glanced at his watch, though it was hard to see in the scant moonlight. He pulled his pistol from his waistband. "Get going. I'll cover you."

They took turns crawling through the fence, then they split up with Hogan taking a spot close to the fence behind several crates. From this spot he was able to keep under cover, but also maintain a view of each of his men.

Carter followed behind Newkirk, but his thoughts were back at camp, where Kinch and Olsen were waiting to receive the envelope containing the winning stories. Schnitzer had promised to have them with his next appointment to change out the dogs.

He didn't even notice that LeBeau had broken off until Newkirk stopped short. "You planning on 'olding me 'and while I set the charge?"

Carter stared at him dumbly, before realizing he was supposed to break off as well. "Sorry," he shrugged weakly, "You don't think they'll read the results without us, do you?"

Newkirk looked as if he wanted to wring the American's neck. "Get over to that warehouse and make sure that new mini submarine never sees the light of day."

Carter turned back and made his way back toward the warehouse. "They'd better not," he muttered under his breath. "I'll give 'em what for…"

H~H

"Halt!"

Schultz jerked forward, fumbling to get his gun in place, and scramble over to a figure who ought to be in his barracks.

"Shh," Olsen admonished, tapping the gun away from his middle. "Want to wake the whole camp?"

Schultz lowered his voice and did some chastising of his own. "What are you doing out of barracks? It is past lights-out. You could be shot!"

"Shh!"

Schultz refused to be put off. "You must go back. Or I shall have to report this."

"Report what?" Olsen asked innocently, as he carefully redirected the guard's attention away from Kinch, who was plastered against the back of the doghouse inside the kennel. "I'm just out for a little fresh air. Clears the mind you know. Before I came out here I was planning to escape."

At the e-word, Schultz nearly dropped his gun as his eyes widened.

"I had it all planned. Knock out the guard -which is unfortunately you - steal your gun and force the vet to take me out in the back of his van…"

"Please, Olsen," Schultz whined. He had to get the boy to shut up before he heard anymore; before anyone overheard and he couldn't see nothing. "You mustn't say things like that."

Kinch managed to get around to the front of the dog house. One of the old dogs was curled up inside. He looked up inquisitively with a slight wag to his tail. Kinch gestured sharply with his thumb.

"It would be worth my life; your life, too." Schultz took him by the arm in an almost affectionate way. "I do not want to see you get hurt. Please, go back inside."

"Take it easy. Don't get your panties in a bunch." Olsen pulled out of his grasp. "I said I *was* going to escape."

The dog cocked his head to the side and barked softly.

Schultz turned toward the noise and Olsen quickly seized his shoulders, preventing him from seeing. "BUT," he practically shouted. "I've decided that I couldn't leave my heart behind!"

"Shh!" Schutlz frowned deeply, confusion written across his face. "What do you mean your heart? What are you talking about?"

"Helga," Olsen looked down. He didn't know how the others did this on-the-spot routine. He was used to having his back-story all lined up and ready to go. "I'm in love with her, Schultz."

Schultz's confusion melted away, replaced with a sly look of understanding. "Oh, ja…" he traced a feminine form with his hands and rolled his eyes up with a sigh. "Wunderbar."

Kinch leaned closer to the dog and whispered harshly. "Raus!"

The dog scrambled out and Kinch did a quick glance around before lifting the house and crawling below.

Olsen almost sighed in relief. "Yeah, I guess she is."

A warm smile from Schultz followed by a pat on the back and Oslen began to worry again. "You leave everything to Uncle Schultzie," he said, guiding the sergeant back to his barracks. "I'll let a little something slip to Helga - subtly, of course - and before you know it, romance will blossom with the spring."

Olsen's eyes widened and he tried to protest, but Schultz simply closed the door behind him and went back to his post, humming the chorus of 'Lili Marlen'.

H~H

The walk home was quieter than the trip out to the out-of-the-way, 'ideal' locale that the Nazi High Command always picked for their experimental doodads. Another check off London's to-do list, a tally for the Allies, and a big, whopping black-eye for Herr Hitler. A night well spent.

They crawled back into camp through the tunnels. Hogan - having spent much of the last two days up planning every aspect of the mission - was bone tired and looking forward to whatever winks he could catch before Klink, followed by an irate Hochstetter, appeared on his doorstep. The scene inside the barracks, however, reminded him of the times when he was little and wanted to dig into supper, but mom would always tell him to be patient and wait till dad got home. They were gathered around the bunk bed entrance, looking at him with eagerness that was hard to find as a POW.

"The results are on your desk, sir." Kinch quietly nudged.

Hogan swiped his hand over his face and checked his watch. "If I give you the Best Story of The Year, will you let me get some sleep?"

They all agreed. He opened the envelope and slid out the carefully printed information. "Your top stories this year are… Bronze, Dresden by Abracadebra."

"I was the main character in that," Carter whispered to Newkirk with a grin.

"Shut up, Andrew."

Hogan cleared his throat. "Silver, Not Honour More by Signy1."

There were murmurs of approval and then Hogan gained complete silence with his next sentence. "There was a tie for Gold…" He couldn't help drawing it out, they sat there on the edge of their seats with breath held.

"Executive Order 9981 by Goldleaf83 and Mon Pays et Paris by Belphegor."

There were quiet cheers and congratulations on a job well-done. "Oi," Finney said, his blue eyes twinkling. "That's a relief. Very good stories. I can't wait till next year."

The guys laughed and Hogan ushered them to bed. They could read the rest of the results tomorrow… after Hochstetter left, of course.

The End

AN: Because of the FFnet guidelines, we decided not to release the full list in the story this year. Instead, you can find the list on our website: www dot papabearawards2020 dot com. Many congratulations to all the winners and a great big thank you to everyone who participated by reading and sending in your ballots; you guys rock!