CHAPTER 26: A BOY'S OWN ADVENTURE

This chapter includes a re-telling of an actual episode. See footnote for details.

As April turned into May, Hogan's team started to find a new equilibrium. The Colonel promised Newkirk he would remain part of the core team, and he was true to his word.

Hogan appreciated Newkirk's ability to probe skeptically at any weaknesses in his plans. His young Corporal had spent enough time pinching wallets and lifting latches to have a developed a finely tuned sense of how things could go wrong.

Hogan also wanted to keep an eye on him. The last thing he needed was for Newkirk to become bored and restless. He had noticed the look on his face when Carter, LeBeau and Olsen left for missions. He had seen him biting his tongue when Carter couldn't seem to memorize the code words. And Hogan had realized that when he was out of the camp, Newkirk was at his most anxious. Those were the nights he found him with Kinch, pacing the tunnels or asleep at the communications table beside him.

And Hogan's heart insisted on keeping Newkirk close. He had begun to see glimpses of vulnerability beneath a tough veneer. In the privacy of his quarters, Hogan had pulled out Newkirk's letter again and again. "My dad will hurt me and you won't," he had written. "Please ask London if I can stay here with you." And he'd sobbed the words: "I want to stay here with you."

They were heartbreaking words with a common denominator: You. You. You. Newkirk was looking to him, Colonel Robert E. Hogan, for protection from whatever terrifying things his home life represented.

Hogan wasn't blind. He knew his men respected him, and he was humbled to know that many of them also looked up to him. He doubted that Peter even realized it, but he could see that Peter looked at him as a father who was nothing like the one fate had given him, and he was awed by the trust that this implied.

Even if he didn't think he was ready for a paternal role, Hogan knew he had to be. He was Peter's guardian now, with all the responsibility that entailed.

Kinch had joked with him about it and presented him with a cigar the night London made the decision. "Congratulations, Papa Bear. You've got a 130-pound bouncing baby boy."

Hogan had laughed, but his heart was racing. There were so many ways to screw this up. Newkirk was complicated and very private—so guarded that he had managed to keep his biggest secret completely under wraps for years. He was not an open book.

One morning, Hogan was lost in thought about how to live up to his new role when he wandered out into the barracks room. It was quiet; only LeBeau remained inside, sitting with a cup of coffee after everyone else had had theirs. He immediately got up and poured one for the Colonel.

"Are you alright, mon Colonel?" he asked as Hogan settled down at the table. "You look worried."

Hogan took a big sip of coffee, set his mug down, and forced out a laugh. "I thought I had a few more years before I was going to have to raise a teenager," he joked. More than anyone, LeBeau understood in his heart that Peter required special care, and only partly because of his age.

"Didn't we all," LeBeau said. "Well, don't worry. I've already take care of one big chore for you."

Hogan's eyebrow shot up. What did LeBeau mean?

LeBeau was having fun with Hogan's reaction, and he continued. "Lucky for you, Papa, I've already had 'the talk' with him," he said.

Hogan shook his head and laughed. "Well, thank you for relieving me of that burden. I'm not sure I could have looked him in the eye." He stopped and squinted at LeBeau. "What did you say, anyway?"

"I asked if he had questions. He said he knew everything…"

Hogan laughed. "I'll bet he did."

"… but then he had questions anyway, about all sorts of things. He asked quite a few that any boy would wonder about before he got to my favorite one," LeBeau teased.

"Yes?" Hogan was grinning with anticipation.

"Do you have to take off all your clothes?" LeBeau blurted out. He was laughing now. "I told him they usually come off bit by bit and of course they don't all need to be off, but he'd probably learn to prefer it if they were. He seemed very relieved to know he wouldn't have to strip all at once."

Hogan was laughing with him. "I'm glad you handled that one. He really is young."

"Yes and no," LeBeau said, suddenly turning serious again. "That's the puzzle. In some ways, he is as mature as any man here. In other ways, he has had his childhood stolen and he needs it back."

Hogan nodded, taking it all in. "You understood that before I did. It's like you said—he lost his childhood, and that's why you take such good care of him. But LeBeau, what do you think he needs from me? How can I be the most help to him?"

"He's got me to mother him; oh, don't laugh. I know perfectly well that's what I'm doing," LeBeau said with a smile. "He needs you to father him," he added simply. "He needs your steadiness and guidance, your trust and certainly your attention. He glows when you take an interest in him. And he needs your forgiveness."

Hogan looked confused. "Forgiveness? For what? He hasn't done anything."

"He will," LeBeau said. "He can't help himself. He will do something foolish and he won't be able to forgive himself, so you'll have to do it for him. It's just how he is."

Hogan nodded, taking in LeBeau's comments. Then LeBeau spoke up. "You asked me what he needs, Sir, but you didn't ask me what he wants."

Hogan smiled warmly. Leave it to LeBeau to see the difference. "What does he want?"

"He wants to be useful. That's a big part of who he is, and he wants to be recognized for his contributions," LeBeau said seriously. "And, mon Colonel, he wants to improve himself. Despite how angry he was at Carter, he is trying very hard to figure out ways to overcome his stammer. Carter was wrong to bring it up the way he did, but he was right that Pierre has the chance now to work on it. He wants and needs encouragement, but he has to be the one to decide."

XXX

It was a pretty day in late May and Hogan had a headache. They'd been trying for two days to knock off a shipment of experimental jet fuel as well as its inventor, who carried the formula in his head. The last effort had been a failure and the series of explosions that missed the target had also prompted a tightening of security around the camp.

On top of everything, Hogan's boys were acting up. Carter was keeping himself busy by carving a bow and arrow. Newkirk was fascinated and wanted to try it, but the minute Carter said no, he switched tactics and began to tease, badger and pester Carter non-stop. Things went from bad to worse when a letter from home revealed Carter's Indian name—Little Deer Who Runs Swift and Sure through Forest. And LeBeau, to Hogan's dismay, had joined in the lunacy when Carter mentioned he was part Sioux Indian.

As Carter carved away, LeBeau and Newkirk were whooping around the barracks re-enacting scenes from Wild West movies, and Newkirk was piling on the bad puns about what he called "Red Indians." It was fascinating to Hogan how his stammer abandoned him whenever he was up to mischief.

Carter was irritated, but he kept carving while shooting angry glances at Newkirk. He'd clearly had experience in ignoring pesky brothers.

Hogan realized he was witnessing an English boy's fascination with cowboys and Indians, and he couldn't help but feel a little indulgent, despite his headache. He remembered how awed Newkirk was when Captain Jeb Winslow and his ten-gallon hat had passed through camp. Right now, Newkirk desperately wanted to try that bow and arrow.

While Hogan was trying to ignore the noise and chaos, he was thinking that if he'd only sent Newkirk with Carter on the mission last night, they would have blown up the right shipment. But now, watching him maraud around the barracks, he was starting to have his doubts. Suddenly Newkirk seemed less like a seventeen year old and more like a twelve year old.

Then the intelligence came in from London. The shipment was being rerouted by truck past the camp between 9:00 and 9:15 tonight, and they were giving Hogan another chance to destroy it. Suddenly the mature Newkirk was back. He was the one who saw Kinch emerge from the tunnel with a message and shushed Carter so he could speak.

When Kinch broke the news, the objections were immediate. "They've got Krauts crawling all over the pace, even at the opening of the tunnel!" Carter said. "How can we do anything?"

"They didn't say how; they said do," Hogan replied, sounding exhausted.

"Don't worry, Sir, you'll th-think of something," Newkirk said solemnly. "You always do. And we'll, we'll, we'll help. Right, lads?" He nodded eagerly at Kinch, LeBeau and Carter.

It was a touching display of faith, and also badly misplaced, Hogan thought. He didn't have an idea of what to do; the camp was closed tight. He went off to his office to have a think when suddenly an arrow whizzed past his ear and buried itself in his door.

"Carter, put that thing away," Newkirk snapped. "You're a ruddy mmmenace. Are you all right, Gov?" Hogan waved a hand to reassure him that he was fine. Hogan would have scolded Carter himself if Newkirk hadn't beaten him to it, and for once he was glad that Newkirk's temper had flared before his own. It was a colossally stupid move by Carter to fire the arrow indoors, and Hogan's blood was boiling.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Carter said to Hogan. "I was testing the bowstring and it must have slipped. Jeepers, I'm glad it didn't fly out the window. It took a lot of time to make this arrow."

"You're worried about your arrow when you could have k-k-killed the Gov'nor?" Newkirk exclaimed, punching Carter in the arm.

"Hold it a minute fellas. No fighting," Hogan said, resting a hand on Newkirk's shoulder to get him to back off while Carter rubbed his sore arm. "Carter, is that the best you can do with a bow and arrow?"

"No, Sir, I won a lot of trophies for archery back home," Carter said proudly. "Once you learn, you never forget."

"Alright, then," Hogan said. "Fellas, I think we have a plan."

Hogan put his head together with Kinch, who quickly calculated the distance from Hogan's window to a position just outside the camp gate. "About sixty yards, Sir," he said.

"Just think what Carter's flaming arrow could do to a truck carrying jet fuel," Hogan said with a grin.

Kinch and Newkirk were tracking Hogan's thoughts right away, as Carter's expression turned to shock. "The truck will be coming down the road from the north at about 35 miles an hour, and the wind is from the south. Carter, you'll need to aim your arrow about 15 yards in front of the moving vehicle. Given the area of canvas on a one and a half ton truck, that will give you a seven to ten foot margin of error," Kinch said.

"And I'd say he'd need every foot of it," Newkirk replied.

"We're not going to take any chances. Peter, take Carter down in the tunnel and practice till show time."

Newkirk was clearly pleased to be assigned the role of coach. He grabbed Carter by the elbow and led him away.

"We didn't need Newkirk at the Little Big Horn, Sir," Carter protested as Newkirk hauled him down to the tunnel.

"No, but I'll bet Custer could have used him," Hogan replied. "Go. Do what he says."

XXX

At three minutes to nine, Carter and Newkirk were back upstairs.

"How Little Deer doing with the bow and arrow?" Hogan asked.

"J-j-just don't lend him your bicycle, Sir," Newkirk replied cryptically.

Then the shouts and whistles began in the camp compound. "Appell! Appell!" Schultz was shouting.

"Dammit, rollcall's half an hour early! Alright, everybody outside except Carter—and Peter, you come with us too," Hogan ordered as he waved them toward his office.

"Schultz will know you're missing," Kinch said.

"Create a confusion. We'll be out in a minute," Hogan said confidently.

In his office, Hogan threw open the shutters and saw the truck's headlights approaching in the distance. It was his lucky night.

"Alright Carter, any second," he said. "Get it ready."

Newkirk lit the arrow and advised, "Remember, lead the lorry by about fffifteen yards." They stood by and waited for the opportunity to strike; out in the compound, LeBeau and Kinch focused on getting Schultz all wound up.

As the truck finally drew nearer, Hogan ordered, "Alright, Carter, let it fly."

Carter released the arrow—straight into the window frame.

"No wonder you lost the West," Newkirk snapped as he extracted the arrow, replaced it in the bow, and released it in a perfect arc. It hit the canvas of the truck and the vehicle caught fire.

"Beautiful, Newkirk. You've got Indian blood in you too," Hogan said with admiration and relief.

Newkirk smiled to hear his name used that way. "Well, actually, Sir, descended from Robin Hood. If you like, for an encore, I'll go out and rob some rich people."

"Nice try, Peter, but you know the rules. You're staying in camp," Hogan said. "Come on, we don't want to be late for roll call."

Newkirk followed Hogan outside, looking crestfallen. Just like that, he was back to being Peter again. Why did he even try?

This chapter mentions a character, Jeb Winslow from "Happiness is a Warm Sergeant" in passing. It also retells some scenes from "Drums Along the Dusseldorf," using some dialogue from that episode. For purposes of this story, I've assumed Newkirk had to stay behind in camp for the first attempts to destroy the jet fuel.