CHAPTER 27: MAKING PEACE, WAGING WAR

The next morning, Newkirk had wandered off after rollcall to loiter on a bench outside Barracks 4. He had a good sulk going on. He'd saved the mission last night, and he knew it. Colonel Hogan was impressed enough to sing his praises and call him by his proper name, but in the next breath, he was back to talking to him like he was a little boy. Newkirk was starting to hate the name Peter.

He was burning through his third cigarette when Carter strolled up. "Oh, hey, Newkirk, there you are! Are you sitting here?"

"No, my imaginary friend Joseph Goebbels is sitting here. Blimey, Carter, what the hell do you think? I'm obviously sitting here, unless bending your knees and putting your arse down is a new way of running."

"Oh," Carter said, taking a seat beside his friend. "Well, what have you been up to?" he said.

"Who me? Oh, the police will fill you in," Newkirk replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Huh? I don't see any police around here, Newkirk," Carter said.

"It was a j-j-j-j-joke," Newkirk said with a sigh. "I'm j-j-just sitting here smoking."

"I'll get a bucket of water, then," Carter said. "We wouldn't want you bursting into flames."

Newkirk couldn't suppress a snicker. "Alright, touché, Carter. You've been working on snappy answers, have you?"

"I have to, with you around. And I'm just trying to cheer you up," Carter said with a shrug. "Although after last night, you shouldn't need much cheering up. That was pretty amazing work."

"Fffffat lot of good it did mmme," Newkirk replied. "Did you hear C-C-Colonel Hogan call me by my surname? Then, a minute later, I'm little P-P-P-P-Peter again. I'm bloody sick of it."

"That would bother me, too," Carter said. "It's hard being treated like a little kid."

"Tell me about it," Newkirk grumped.

"I can. Because it's how everyone treated me before they realized you were even younger. Even you, and you knew better," Carter said.

"I never did!" Newkirk replied.

"Newkirk, seriously? Have you heard the way you talk to me? Of course you did. You still do. You treat me like I don't know anything."

Newkirk sat in silence for a while. "I don't think that at all, Carter. I j-j-j-just never fffffelt that I was really younger than you," Newkirk said.

"Yeah, well, now you know what it's like," Carter said. He realized that sounded harsh, and maybe he meant it that way, because Newkirk wasn't great at having perspective. But Carter was nice through and through, so he added, "I'm sorry you're finding out, and for what it's worth I always felt you were older too, because, you know, you have more experience."

"Of what?" Newkirk asked, suddenly puzzled.

"Women, for starters," Carter said. "Don't you?"

"No," Newkirk said sharply. "You said it yourself, remember? You're not a virgin."

"And you are?" Carter said incredulously. Then he corrected himself. "Oh, yeah, you probably are. I mean, you've been here since you were fifteen. It'd be kind of surprising if you weren't. But don't kid yourself."

"What do you mean, don't kid yourself?" Newkirk watched as Carter shrugged his shoulders expressively. "Andrew, you wouldn't lie about a thing like that," Newkirk scoffed. Then he looked at Carter's face. "Would you?" Carter didn't answer. "Oh, I see. You would. So… both of us?"

"Yep," Carter replied.

"You're not lying now? J-j-just to make me feel better?"

"Nope," Carter said.

"Do you suppose there are others in this camp?"

"Probably," Carter said. "There are a lot of young guys here. They can't all have wild sex lives."

"Shhh!" Newkirk said. "I can't believe you used that word!"

"Jeepers, you really are young, you know that?" Carter said. "There's nothing wrong with the word. Sex, sex, sex."

Newkirk punched him. "Stop it! You're embarrassing me!"

"Fine," Carter said. He went quiet for a long moment. "Are we friends again?"

"What do you mean, again? We've always been friends," Newkirk said. "And by the wwwway, if you ever need to know all the details about sss, sss – w-what you said – you really need to t-t-t-talk to LeBeau." He leaned closer. "He knows everything. Even more than Colonel Hogan does." He leaned back, crossed his arms, and nodded knowingly.

"Hey, Newkirk?" Carter asked.

"Yeah?"

"Where'd you learn to shoot a bow and arrow, anyway?" Carter asked.

Newkirk shrugged. "Cub Scouts."

"You're a Boy Scout too?" Carter looked wildly excited.

"No. I never made it to that level. I was sent away, you see, to a school where they didn't have Scouts. Please don't let that get out too, Carter. It's not good for my image to have been a Cub Scout on top of everything else."

"You're secret's safe with me, Newkirk."

XXX

Hogan was taking in the sunshine outside Barracks 2 as he spotted his two youngest team members strolling back. They were together—that looked like a good sign. He'd seen Newkirk looking dejected, and he understood why. He'd seen Carter looking like a kicked puppy, and he got that too. He was going to have to talk to both of them. The fact that they appeared to be back on speaking terms would make it much easier to clear the air.

"Fellas—a moment, please? Meet me in my office. I'll be right there," Hogan said. He waved them in and stayed outside a bit longer, taking a deep breath of refreshing air to prepare for another conversation.

Inside his office, the duo was seated side by side on the bottom bunk, and the competition for who looked more anxious was intense. Usually it was Newkirk, since Carter was generally cheerful no matter what was happening, but right now it looked like Carter might have the lead. He was feeling bad about the botched mission, even though it had ultimately succeeded.

Hogan sat down opposite them, and before he could say a word, they were talking at once.

"I'm real sorry I missed with the arrow, Sir. You were counting on me, and boy, I blew it. And that made two times!" Carter was all big blue eyes and contrition.

"I know I shouldn't have j-j-j-jumped in without being asked, Sir, but I didn't want us to miss our chance. I won't do it again." Newkirk's head was hanging down. Shame was his default mode these days.

"Guys, guys, listen. Quiet," Hogan said. As Newkirk and Carter quieted down, he laid a hand on each one's knee. "You did great last night, and I mean both of you. Carter, if you hadn't carved that bow and arrow, we wouldn't have had a shot—literally—at that truck. And Peter, if you hadn't thought fast and fired that arrow, we would have missed the opening."

They weren't expecting that. Both of Hogan's boys let out their breath and looked immensely relieved.

"Mistakes happen, guys. That's normal. But what I saw last night is that when the two of you work together, you can get things done. And I need you both to do better than you've been doing lately," Hogan said.

"But I thought you said we both done good," Newkirk said, looking puzzled.

"Yes, you did very well. But that needs to be steady. Peter, I know you're still ticked off at Carter for spilling the news about your age."

Newkirk shrugged and said softly, "Yes, Sir."

"And Carter, I know Peter's anger and sarcasm can be pretty hard for you to take."

"Well, yeah. We just don't talk to each other that way in my family," Carter said. "And my mom would have washed my mouth out with soap if I said some of the words he uses. But," he added, "I'm in the army now. I know how guys are. I just hate that he's so mad at me all the time."

"I'm not angry, exactly, Andrew. I'm j-j-j-just j-j-j-j…" He huffed out a huge breath. "Jealous" was not going to come out of his mouth, even though it was accurate. He tried again. "I'm annoyed that I'm younger than you. I can't believe it."

"Well, believe it. Stop telling yourself you can't, and just believe it," Carter said firmly. "But then think about what it means."

"Huh?" Newkirk was floored by Carter's sudden philosophical turn, and so was Hogan.

"It's something some Kinch and Garlotti have been saying to me. Get over it. Age is just a number. You're younger than people in some ways, and you're older than them in other ways. I'm probably young in a lot of ways, like not knowing when to shut up, but I'm pretty mature in the way I control my emotions. And you're, uh, not. But you're older in lots of other ways, like knowing how to sneak around and not get noticed and stuff."

"Oh, very nice, that is," Newkirk replied, but a smile was playing around the edge of his lips. Yes, he had a Ph.D. in stealth even if his emotional control was still in primary school.

"And you're calm under pressure. You think things through better than I do, even though I'm better at building and designing devices to get things done," Carter said.

"You're more positive. I always see the bad things that might happen," Newkirk said.

"I think there's a reason for that," Carter said. "You've had more bad things happen to you. My life's been pretty hunky-dory."

Hogan listened with his arms crossed and a smile lighting his eyes. They could work it out. They just needed a little push. Hogan had no illusions that Newkirk would stop being grumpy or that Carter would stop putting his foot in his mouth. But they could do better, and getting them to see and accept that they both had strengths and weaknesses was key.

Hogan was still looking at them, lost in thought, when Carter and Newkirk finally ran out of steam. They sat looking expectantly at him before he realized they were waiting for him to speak.

"What is it, Sir?" Newkirk finally ask. "Is there something else?"

Hogan reached out and placed a hand on Newkirk's cheek and smiled, and then did the same to Carter. "Nope. I think you two have worked things out nicely. And I'm very proud to have both of you on my team."

XXX

Missions came and went. Carter and LeBeau handled a connection at the Hauserhof. Kinch went out with Hogan and Carter to mine tracks and derail a munitions transport. LeBeau had a solo mission to Dusseldorf that nearly had Newkirk unstrung as he paced around waiting for him to return, and then for the next 24 hours, followed him everywhere.

And Hogan nearly got caught in a double-cross. Willow, a female agent connected to the Berlin underground, passed troop movement plans to Hogan which he quickly determined to be of doubtful provenance. Some details didn't hang together; the infantry unit that was supposed to be in the vanguard of the advance was in northern Italy, London informed Hogan. Something was wrong, and the agent just about had Hogan convinced that she'd been set up.

The next night, Hogan and Willow returned to her hotel room after a strategy session to figure out how the bad information had been passed along. Hours passed, and Hogan still hadn't returned. But as Willow got out of bed and went into the bathroom, Hogan took a stroll around the room and saw evidence –a packed bag containing a notebook, a change of clothes and contact information for an SS officer—that convinced him that she was the mastermind. He placed a call to Underground agent Cardinal and Bluebird to intervened and with their help was able to move her to a safe house for transport to London, but not until considerably anxiety had been expended on his behalf.

When he got back to the camp in the wee hours of the morning, he found LeBeau, Kinch and Newkirk all waiting for him. LeBeau was pacing. Kinch was drumming his fingers on the table. Newkirk was seated beside Kinch, coiled like a snake and rocking anxiously. They all looked exhausted.

"Good to have you back, Sir," Kinch said at LeBeau sprang into caregiving mode, pouring Hogan a cup of coffee and taking his coat while he settled onto a stool to explain what had gone wrong.

"Good to be back. I don't want another night like that one. I don't care how pretty she is," Hogan said with usual raffish manner. "That was too close. She had good information about us, and she was ready to use it. We're going to have to shut down her whole cell."

"Did she go, Sir?" Newkirk asked.

"Go where?" Hogan replied.

"Go for you. Did she put out? Was she forthcoming with her ffffavors?"

"Pierre, stop," LeBeau said. He could hear the underlying anger in Newkirk's tone. Newkirk had surmised that Hogan had come perilously close to capture or worse because he'd gotten amorous again in the company of an attractive female, and LeBeau knew he was probably right. He was disappointed, but Newkirk was outraged.

"That's enough, Peter," Hogan said sternly. "You are way the hell out of line." He knew exactly what Newkirk was driving at and he was irritated—because Newkirk was right.

"You have lipstick on your collar, Sir. You took too mmmmuch risk," Newkirk snapped. "You p-p-put yourself in danger and you didn't have to. You almost didn't mmmmake it back."

"And I'm back now," Hogan said evenly. "Now get up to bed. We'll talk about your behavior tomorrow."

"Sir, yes, Sir," Newkirk said sharply. He pushed himself away from the table angrily and headed up the ladder.

Hogan rubbed his temples and took a seat at the table next to Kinch. He started dictating his report.

"You have lipstick on your neck and chin, too, Sir," Kinch observed.

"Fine," Hogan snapped. "He's right. I was so focused on screwing that agent that I nearly screwed up the mission. Are you satisfied? I thought I had everything under control, but it turns out I'm human and I made a mistake. Now that's enough. I have a report to file for London."

LeBeau had nearly followed Newkirk up the ladder, but he hung back. "He was afraid for you, Sir. He was so worried you were in danger and he thought you might not make it back."

"It's war, LeBeau," Hogan said wearily. "Sometimes people don't make it back. He's too attached to me."