The heroes laid low for another day to give Klink time to cool off. Newkirk and LeBeau practiced the fight they would have so it would be unquestionably Newkirk's fault. Couldn't have the wrong man going into solitary. Colonel Hogan gave the two permission to act an hour after lunch. Newkirk and LeBeau nodded. This was it.

The Corporals walked out and stood in front of a few guards. Their pause was due to Newkirk fishing out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. Before the man put it to his lips, however, LeBeau grabbed him in the crook of the elbow and said, "Hey, got another one to spare, Mon ami?"

Newkirk elbowed him in the chest and pushed him away. "Bugger off," the Brit said, shielding his cigarette from the other.

"Hey, that's not fair! I saw you get an entire pack this morning," LeBeau said, reaching for inside the Brit's coat.

This time Newkirk gave LeBeau a shove hard enough to push him to the ground. "I said bugger off," Newkirk repeated, kicking dirt onto the other. LeBeau cursed at him in French which caused the other to grab him by the collar and start "punching" him in the face. They had practiced it so that from the side, it would look like Newkirk was doing real damage. What was actually happening, however, was that Newkirk was lightly touching the other's cheek with his knuckles to push his face into the ground. The dirt kicked up most of the fuss and would suffice as bruising.

A small crowd of men gathered around the pair, cheering and shouting. This caught the attention of the guards. They shouted at the crowd to move and waved their guns around. As the crowd broke, Newkirk stood up and tossed LeBeau to the ground. The Frenchman curled into a ball, sheltering himself from the Brit. The soldiers pointed their guns at the British Corporal, so he held his hands up. Colonel Klink and Hogan were called over to assess the matter.

"What is it now?" the Commandant complained, stamping his foot into the snow.

"This man was attacking another prisoner, Herr Commandant," one of the soldiers reported. Colonel Hogan pretended to be shocked and called Newkirk's name in a disapproving tone.

"Sorry, sir, but he was trying to steal my cigs," Newkirk explained.

Before Hogan could respond, Klink waved his hand and huffed. "I don't care what he was doing. Now is not the time for rough housing. Thirty days in the cooler!" Klink's fuse was even shorter than usual.

Newkirk gave the Colonel a look. The cooler was a lot harder to sneak out of than solitary. Not to mention the check-ins were more often in case someone started to freeze to death.

"Colonel Klink wait!" the American called, halting the soldiers from taking Newkirk away. "I must protest this punishment. It goes against the Geneva Convention!"

Klink scoffed. "Hogan, when have I ever cared about the Geneva Convention?"

"Well I think this may be the one time you would like to care. Considering how cold it's been, the cooler will be more like a freezer now. One day in there any man would be a popsicle," Colonel Hogan explained.

"So?" Klink asked.

"So that means he's dead," the man spelled out. "And one dead POW is just the gateway to more dead POWs. Which means Allied planes will have no problems bombing Stalag 13."

Klink's monocle nearly dropped into the snow. He called to his men to halt and ordered them to place the Corporal in solitary for a week. Colonel Hogan thanked Klink, and the German officer huffed. As Newkirk was marched to solitary, Hogan helped LeBeau up.

"So far so good, Colonel," LeBeau commented, wiping the dirt off his uniform.

"Yeah, but this wasn't the hard part," Hogan cautioned, not wanting to celebrate too early. They had done dozens upon dozens of escapes, but each one bubbled new anxiety in Hogan's chest. "Come on. We still have preparations to do before tonight." Colonel Hogan nodded to the barracks and the duo started walking over. Through the clouded window they saw Carter and Kinch's face looking out. Hogan tipped his hat with two fingers to signal everything was going to plan.

The men inside relayed this information to James just as Hogan and LeBeau entered. "Are we set to start moving, Colonel?" Kinch asked, ready to radio London.

"Yeah but be careful about it. We don't need to mess up this early in the game," the American warned the other. "LeBeau, get James ready for the move."

"Oui, Colonel," the Frenchman responded. Kinch hit the false bunk and hurried down the ladder. James went to the back room and grabbed the clothes Newkirk had made before hurrying down the ladder as well. LeBeau came last and closed the entrance. Kinch headed down to the radio alcove while LeBeau pointed James to some hanging sheets he could change behind.

Being part of the air force, LeBeau was used to the reoccurring nerves right before takeoff and landing. Something unexpected could go wrong and ruin the entire mission. It was a rush he missed feeling ever since he was brought here. Which was why he agreed to be part of the Colonel's main team. And who could say no to sticking it to the Krauts from behind the scenes?

"Ta-da!" James said, stepping from behind the changing cloth. "Newkirk did a good job, no?"

"You look like a true Kraut," LeBeau joked. "Now, give me your best German accent."

James cleared his throat before saying a few things with a slight accent. LeBeau noted it wasn't exactly German, more Russian, but it would have to do.

"As long as Newkirk does most of the talking, I think you will be good," LeBeau said. James frowned and the Corporal continued through his mental check list. "Do you have your documents?"

"Right here," the boy replied, pulling them out of the pocket the Brit had stuffed them in. "Lutz Strub. 21-year-old male soldier. Wounded in combat. 100% blind."

"Good. You're a fast learner," LeBeau complimented. "Newkirk told me you had something to take with you?"

James nodded and went back behind the cloth. When he came back, he held a tied bundle in his hands. From the looks of it, the bundle was the trench coat tied up like how they moved bunks.

"What is it?" LeBeau asked.

"A change of clothes and some real British pounds. Also my trench coat."

"Will you be able to keep up with it with the bandages on?" LeBeau would have preferred just to send it through the underground some other time.

James nodded. "It won't leave my hands."

LeBeau was satisfied with that answer, not like he could protest it much, and waited for Kinch to come back with word from London. They didn't have to wait long as the Sergeant emerged from the alcove with a blue sheet of paper in hand. "What did they say?" LeBeau asked, turning to the other.

"'Sub will be waiting. Make sure package arrives on time,'" Kinch replied, handing the paper over to LeBeau so he could confirm. "You ready to go, James?"

"Yes, sir. I've been ready ever since I left that prison."

"Good. We'll start to move once it gets dark. LeBeau will take you through the emergency tunnel and wait there until you hear three knocks on the entrance," Kinch said, demonstrating on the wall. "Got it?"

The kid nodded.

"Alright then, mon ami, now we wait."

Newkirk blew in his hands to keep his fingers from falling off. Hogan wasn't kidding; being in the cooler would have turned him into an RAF Popsicle. At least solitary had some blankets to try and keep him warm.

Nightfall came with a mix of nerves and readiness. While the Brit didn't always act like it, he loved doing missions. It was better than lazing around all day after getting bored with regular prison camp work.

He watched the window carefully, looking for any sign of movement. There came the slightest rap on the bars which prompted Newkirk to lift them up. Like every defense in this prison, the bars had been "modified" to help the soldiers more so than the Germans. The man looked up and saw Carter dressed all in black with a suitcase.

"Your outfit and papers are in here," Carter whispered, handing the suitcase over. Newkirk quickly changed into the German outfit before crawling out the window.

Carter lead the other to the nearest fence and said, "James and LeBeau are waiting for you at the exit to the emergency tunnel." They crept up to the modified barbed wire, and Carter lifted it up just enough so Newkirk could crawl under. He then passed the suitcase through the large gaps. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Andrew. That's exactly what I want to hear," Newkirk replied, his tone only half sarcastic.

A/N:

Birthday update! Today is my birthday and I thought I would treat you all with an extra chapter for the week.