Hogan didn't start to worry until an hour before roll call. They should have been back by then, but they might have been held up in town. Daylight missions were tricky and sometimes required a little more penache and finagling. They might have been stopped by an over eager guard, or held up by trains, or had to lay low because of…

It didn't matter. He ordered Kinch to stay in the tunnels and keep an eye out and tried to look casual as his men tended to the flower garden they were planting around Klink's quarters.

When the minutes turned into a half hour, then Schultz started barking for a roll call, Hogan couldn't be casual anymore.

His men stalled, arguing that they had to wash the dirt off their hands, or put away their tools. LeBeau made a point of stacking all the empty pots slowly and carefully. Olsen and Boquist argued heatedly over the positioning of a mum until Schultz's repeated warnings turned into the sergeant dragging both the men apart by the napes of their necks, and scolding them into formation.

When Kinch finally ducked out of the barracks Hogan gave him a desperate look, but the sergeant could only shake his head.

Ducking his chin against his chest, Hogan started to plot, weighing all the factors and forcing them through the calculating machine inside his brain, watching Schultz as he composed himself and started the count.


By the time they made the railroad cut Carter was barely able to walk. They'd torn up the corduroy jacket into strips, packing them against the gunshot wound on his back, and tying the whole thing as tight as they could manage but corduroy wasn't, by nature, a terribly absorbent material. Carter was still bleeding and Newkirk couldn't breathe. The blood had congealed in his battered and swollen nostrils, and the broken rib shifted every time he inhaled too deeply.

After the first hour they were creeping along like sloths, the little girl had grown bored with the pace. She took up the habit of drifting ahead of the men as they stumbled through the woods, collecting flowers and twigs and odds and ends.

When they hit the cut and slid down the dirt incline, the little girl took some convincing before she skidded down in their wake. She went with them happily into the shade of the tunnel arch.

Newkirk helped Carter into a sitting position, and made sure the bandage was in place before the American leaned back against the cold stone wall.

The Brit stayed on his feet, knowing he wouldn't make it back up again if he rested. The little girl glanced back and forth between her options, then tucked herself into the space between Carter's hip and his good arm, chastely pulling the too short dress over her knees, and leaning against Carter's chest.

Newkirk watched her, baffled by her behavior, and the way that this nameless waif had latched onto them. Neither of them had had the energy to waste on dissuading the little girl from following them. In fact, her presence had bolstered both of them into going farther, for longer than their conditions should have allowed.

Despite his injury, the sweat bathing his face and the pale color of his skin, Carter was softly smiling as he closed his eyes to rest. Newkirk firmly decided that the girl qualified as medicine and after a few more minutes spent getting his wind back, he left the two of them together and stepped back out into the open to look for the hidden emergency supply kit.


"Colonel Hogan, where are they!?"

"I don't know, Schultz, but I'm sure they're around here somewhere."

"I don't want them to be somewhere I want them to be here!" Schultz hissed, once more frantically searching the two ranks of men standing in front of Barrack 2. After all, sometimes he did miss them the first time through. Sometimes the men magically appeared between one count and the next. Only this time, Schultz didn't find them. "Colonel Hogan, please!"

"Schultz, don't you think I'd tell ya if I knew where they were. Maybe they're in with some of the other barracks. You know the men like to visit during the day." The suggestion was vague but it brought a glimmer of hope into the eyes of the panicking sergeant and he immediately rushed off to check with each of the other guards to see if their counts had been off.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Hogan turned to Kinch and LeBeau. "If they managed to get the film and the maps we can't send the guards and the dogs after them without warning. Kinch and LeBeau go out the emergency tunnel and check the normal route. I'll try to stall and give you as much time as I can, but destroy the maps and the film at all costs."

"Yes, sir."

"Oui, mon Colonel."

The Frenchman and the tall American disappeared into the barracks and Hogan turned back to the compound, watching Schultz's haphazard version of a one man foxtrot. Klink still hadn't appeared from his office, probably occupied by a phone call, or stuffing down his lunch.

It was just as well. Schultz was easier to stall than Klink, when it came to protecting the perfect no-escape record of the camp.

The big guard double timed his way back to the ranks, focused solely on Hogan, apparently unsuccessful with his search.

"Did you find them, Schultz?" Hogan asked, acting as unconcerned as possible.

"No." Schultz accused angrily. "They were not with the other men and they were not in the cooler, or in the rec hall. They were not in the mess, and I hope they would not be so stupid as to try to hide in the guard's barracks. Please, Colonel Hogan, today is not the day for fun and games. I give up on trying to find them, please…please tell them to come out."

Hogan stood by passively as Schultz glanced to his left, noticed the two new gaps in the ranks, then turned a pale pleading look back to the officer. The look turned into the blank stare that usually preceded a man passing out, when they both heard Klink's impatient, "Repooooort!"

Hogan tossed his hand forward, grabbing the front of Schultz's uniform just in case, and couldn't have hoped for a better awful situation when the idea popped into his head and he pushed Schultz back just enough to unbalance him.

The moment he felt the big guard wobble Hogan shouted, "Schultz, are you okay?"

He pushed hard, trying to make it look like he was struggling to keep Schultz up, instead of trying to knock him down. "Oh, Schultz you've gone pale. Come here, you better sit down before you fall down."

"Colonel Hogan, what are you-"

"Go with it, Schultz, I'm saving your life here." Hogan muttered, then grunted as the sergeant immediately responded by faking a dead faint. Hogan went down with him and half the prisoners crowded around excitedly, hiding the sergeant and the colonel from Klink.

"Stay down, Schultz and keep your eyes closed. You're gonna get a nice rest for a few hours, then tell the camp doctor that you haven't eaten in two days and must have fainted. Got it?" Hogan demanded quickly, trying to time things so that he could interrupt the commandant before the German could break up the mob.

"Got it." Schultz said, then snapped his eyes shut and let his head fall to the side.

"Stand back, fellas. Give us some room. Give us some air." Hogan shouted, pressing back against the legs of the men around him before he jumped to his feet and swept into Klink's path, launching a quick salute. "He's fainted, sir. He said he wasn't feeling well. You should probably call for a few of your men, and a stretcher…a-and a wheelbarrow."

Klink looked mildly concerned and curious, trying to see over Hogan's shoulder, but already nodding to the request. "Of course…oh how terrible. Langenscheidt!"

Hogan let out a breath, hard and fast, then turned back to the crowd around Schultz supervising the sergeant's transfer to the guard's barracks and hoping against hope that he'd bought his men enough time.