[Wednesday 04 NOV
1942//0005hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
main exercise compound
****
The
'surprise' bed inspection surprised no one, except Sgt. Schultz who was beside
himself with panic when he discovered two prisoners missing. The
rest of the prisoners stood outside in the freezing drizzle that had just
started falling. Schultz counted and recounted. Still two missing!
"Report!"
Klink ordered.
Swallowing
nervously, Schultz broke the news to the Kommandant. "Herr Kommandant, two
prisoners are missing."
Klink
instantly began barking out orders. "Sound the alarm! Call out the dogs! I
want armed patrols both inside and outside the compound! On the double!
All prisoners are confined to quarters until further notice. Anyone found
outside the barracks will be shot on sight!"
"Shot
on sight!?" Hogan yelled in angry protest. He ran towards Klink.
"You said no one would be hurt! You gave me your word!"
"I
remember giving no such word, Col. Hogan. Sgt. Schultz, escort this prisoner to
his quarters!"
"Jahwohl,
Herr Kommandant!"
"Kommandant,
I'm lodging a formal protest--!" Hogan yelled, as Schultz began to pull
him away.
"Your
protest has been duly noted and rejected!" Klink replied, a smug grin
lighting his features.
****
[Wednesday 04 NOV
1942//0030hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
Barracks #2
****
Hogan
was shoved unceremoniously into the barracks. He rushed the door as it slammed
in his face. Furious, he banged on it in futile rage. Turning from the door, he
yelled into the crowd of milling POWs within the barracks.
"Kinch!"
No answer. "Sgt. Kinchloe!" Still no answer. He looked around, his
eyes registering on the other POWs for the first time. They were noticeably
trying to avoid his eyes. "Where is he?" he demanded, although he
already knew.
A
young black sergeant stepped forward. Baker, Hogan remembered. Like
Kinchloe, Baker was also a radioman.
"He
took off during all the excitement, sir." He gave Hogan a hopeful look.
"He'll be okay, sir. You'll see."
"Lights
out," Hogan ordered. "I need everyone absolutely quiet, no movement,
no talking."
"What
are you going to do, sir?" Baker asked.
"Don't
ask!" Hogan snapped. Relenting, he placed his hand on the young man's
shoulder. "I'm going to do something extremely stupid, soldier. I'm going
outside." To find Kinch, he added to himself. And the others.
Placing
his finger to his lips, he indicated he needed quiet. Soon, the place was still
as death. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard soft voices immediately
outside.
There
were guards posted right outside the door. Just swell!
He
was about to discard any idea of going after his men, when a new voice came up,
shouting in angry German.
"~What
are you two soldiers doing here?~" Klink's shrill voice was recognizable
even through the door. "~You should be outside the fence perimeter on
patrol!~"
"Jahwohl,
Herr Kommandant!"
"Mach
schnell!" Klink yelled. The voices soon receded. Hogan heard
shouts, dogs barking, and boots pounding farther off, but nothing nearby.
Taking a chance, he pulled the door ajar and did a quick scan of the area.
All
clear!
Hurriedly,
before he changed his mind, he ducked outside, finding refuge in the dark
shadows afforded by the icy drizzle. A searchlight almost caught him, but he
hit the ground and rolled to the edge of the barracks' foundation, lying
perfectly still until the light passed him. As soon as it did so, he jumped up
and sprinted to the Kommandant's building.
Rounding
the corner that led to the back, he skidded to a halt outside an open window.
Looking in, he saw Kinchloe's shadowy, huddled form tapping away at the Morse
Key. Grabbing the windowsill, Hogan hauled himself up and in, frightening
several years from Kinchloe's life if the glare he shot Hogan was any
indication.
"How
much longer?" Hogan hissed.
Kinchloe
held up a single hand, all five fingers spread out. Five minutes. Hogan nodded,
and not wanting to distract his radioman, knelt by the window to keep watch. As
promised, when five minutes were up, Kinchloe gave Hogan a 'thumbs up' sign and
began powering down the radio.
Once
outside, they moved with a grace born of their innate athleticism and a stealth
born out of need. As the searchlights moved back and forth, they ran across the
compound to the alley between the buildings.
"Head
on in," Hogan ordered.
"What
are you gonna do?" Kinchloe demanded.
"I'm
bringing in my two lost lambs before they're slaughtered by the big bad
wolves."
"I'll
go with you," Kinchloe said quickly.
"Nuh-uh,"
Hogan said shaking his head. "You've already risked life and limb once
tonight. I'm not asking--"
"You're
not asking, sir. I'm volunteering," Kinchloe interrupted. "Remember,
I recommended them for this detail."
The
two men held each other's eyes for a moment. In the end, Hogan nodded. "Sergeant's
business," he muttered. "Gets me every time. Okay,
we'd better split up. You go get Olsen--he's hiding in the de-lousing shack.
I'm going after Carter."
"Where
is he?" Kinchloe asked.
"Water
tower," Hogan said succinctly. "Kinch, if you can't find Olsen in the
de-lousing shack, don't go looking for him."
"But
what if he was forced to change hiding places because of the Krauts?"
Kinchloe protested.
"I
repeat. If you don't find him there, you're not to search for him. Head on back
to the barracks--on the double. And that's an order, Sergeant."
Kinchloe
nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sir. I understand."
With
that the two men separated.
****
[Wednesday 04 NOV
1942//0050hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
outside Barracks #2
****
Hogan
flitted through the shadows, conscious of the patrols all around. The tower was
centrally located, and to get to the top, he'd have to risk exposing himself.
He
thought back to his earlier conversation with Carter and Olsen. Both soldiers
had been extremely eager to play 'Hide and Seek' with the Germans...
****
[Tuesday 03 NOV
1942//1600hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
Barracks #2
8 hours
earlier...
****
"You
bet I'll do it, boy!" Carter said excitedly. "Uh, I
mean--sir!"
"Me,
too, sir," Olsen said quietly. "How long do you need us to stay
gone?"
Hogan
studied the two young men, wondering if they knew what they were getting into.
"Are
you two sure you understand the danger you'll be placing yourselves in?"
"You
said that the Kommandant promised he wouldn't let anyone get hurt," Carter
pointed out.
"Klink
said he'd do his best to keep anyone from getting hurt," Hogan
corrected. "He didn't make any
promises. For one thing, he can't be everywhere at once. For another, we can't
trust him."
Carter
and Olsen shrugged gamely. "I'm ready to go, Colonel," Carter said
eagerly.
Hogan
and Kinchloe exchanged unreadable looks. Feeling uneasy over the young
sergeant's eagerness--How many boys have I sent to their deaths with that
same look?--he stood and walked to the small window in his quarters. It was
mid-afternoon, and while the day was a bit chilly, he had the shutters open to
let in the bright sunlight.
Hogan
stared out at the compound. In the distance, he could hear the shouts and
laughter from a lively game of soccer. He watched for a few minutes, giving
himself time to think about what he wanted to say. These boys--these men!--had
to be made to realize the deadly peril they'd be in.
"Olsen,
Carter," he said, finally facing them. "I appreciate your willingness
to volunteer--to do what needs to be done. What I don't want is
for either of you to minimize the danger you'll be in."
"Come
on, Colonel--" Carter began.
"No!"
Hogan yelled, cutting him off. "I want you two to listen to me and listen
good. This isn't a game. This isn't a Sunday picnic. This is real. The stakes
here are incredibly high. We've got to get this information to the Underground
as soon as possible and in order to do it, we have to get to Klink's radio.
Believe me, if there were any other way, I wouldn't even consider such a crazy
scheme. But I don't have a choice." He paused, gauging the effect of his
words.
Carter
glanced uneasily at Olsen, and then quickly looked away. He swallowed
nervously, his clear, blue eyes reflecting his inner turmoil. He felt Hogan's
eyes on him, and hesitantly looked up. He held the Colonel's warm, brown gaze
for a moment, trying to gain strength and confidence from the larger than life
bomber pilot under whose command Fate had placed him.
"Sir?
What information do we have to get to the Underground?" Carter asked.
"That's
on a Need to Know basis, Airman," Kinchloe said sharply. Carter
immediately dropped his eyes.
"Oh,
of course." He nodded, trying to hide his obvious disappointment.
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean any disrespect."
"Of
course, you didn't, Carter," Hogan said quietly. "But the less you
know the better. Especially if--"
"Especially
if I'm caught, right?"
Hogan
nodded.
Olsen
suddenly reached over and punched Carter lightly on the upper arm. "Hey,
come on, buddy! That kinda stuff just ain't in our department. That's Officers'
Business. Me, I'm buckin' not to make Private First Class--too much
responsibility."
Carter
gave him an uncertain smile. Leaning in closer, Olsen placed his arm around
Carter's shoulder and spoke in a low tone.
"Look,
buddy...Trust me when I say this--the Colonel and the Sarge here are the best
there is. Me, I'm a real Sad Sack, see? But not them two. They're like...real
professionals. Regular Army types. The kind that know what they're doing."
Olsen
looked up Hogan and Kinchloe, his expression mirroring his complete faith in
the both of them. Turning back to Carter, he added, "So, see? The Colonel
isn't promising us nothing but danger. Won't even tell us the whole reason for
the mission 'cause we might get caught. So what do I say? I say, if Col. Hogan
has enough trust in a slacker like me for the job, then I ask no questions
except, 'when and where do I go?'"
He
then got up and stood next to Kinchloe, arms crossed, facing Carter.
Glancing
from Olsen, to Kinchloe, to Hogan, Carter realized that each man radiated a
confidence he envied. He wanted nothing more than to jump up and join them
where they stood, a veritable impenetrable wall of strength.
"Sgt.
Carter?" Hogan's quiet voice broke into his nervous ruminations.
"Carter, no one will think less of you if you back out. This is strictly a
volunteers-only operation."
Slowly,
Carter's nervous expression began to clear. Soon, it was replaced by what Hogan
had begun to recognize as the young sergeant's normally sunny disposition.
"Heck,
yeah, boy!" he cried excitedly. "Back home, when we had family
picnics, my cousins and me used to play Hide-and-Seek." At Hogan's
encouraging smile, he continued, his excitement growing. "It could
sometimes take all afternoon on account of we were such a large family. Anyway,
I always found the best hiding place, and--"
"--We
get the picture, Carter," Kinchloe interrupted...
****
[Wednesday 04 NOV
1942//0055hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
near the main water tower
Present...
****
And
sure enough, Carter had indeed found the best hiding place again. Actually,
both he and Olsen came by Hogan's quarters later that evening, and recommended
the water tower and de-lousing shack as their hiding places.
Hogan
couldn't believe that the two men had succeeded in slipping through the Krauts'
hands so completely. They'd sneaked out after the last bed check before lights
out. Unfortunately, that meant that he'd already been in the water tower for
the better of four hours.
Hogan
had intended to let the two 'escapees' be discovered by the patrols, but since
Klink's 'shoot to kill' pronouncement, he couldn't take the risk. So, now, he
and Kinchloe had to 'tag' Carter and Olsen, putting an end to their game of
Hide and Seek.
Stopping
to catch his breath, Hogan timed the searchlight sweeps. When he felt that he
could make it without being caught in them, he dashed to the base of the tower
and started climbing. He had to reach the shadowy recesses immediately
underneath the tank to avoid the next searchlight sweep, or he was dead.
Almost
there! Nerves ratcheted to
fever pitch, his hands suddenly slipped. Grabbing futilely at the rungs, he
managed to catch himself, but now he was dangling dangerously, still out in the
open.
The
searchlight! It was on its return arc.
Later,
he wouldn't be able to exactly recall how he did it, but the next thing he
knew, Hogan was clutching the lip of the tank and pulling himself up and over.
He
almost fell on top of Carter, who was gripping the inside ladder a single rung
from the icy waters below.
Taking
deep ragged breaths, Hogan gasped, "Dr. Livingston, I presume?"
"Huh--?"
Carter asked blankly.
"Never
mind, Einstein," Hogan hissed. "Get the lead out! Mission
accomplished."
"Oh,
boy--! ~mmmphf?~
Despite
their extremely precarious positions--one false step and they'd both end up in
the drink--at the young sergeant's loud cry, Hogan had swiftly lowered himself
until he was on the same rung as Carter. At this moment, he was glaring daggers
at the young sergeant, while simultaneously clamping a powerful hand over his
mouth to keep him from sounding off again.
"Carter...?"
Hogan whispered dangerously.
Carter
looked up at him with highly expressive bright, blue eyes. Yes, sir?
Those same eyes asked silently.
"There's
a war on, remember?"
A
bit hesitantly, Carter's head bobbed up and down.
"Then
try to remember whose side you're on!"
****
LuftStalag 13,
somewhere between the buildings
****
Kinchloe
meanwhile had fared a little better. He'd found Olsen without incident, and the
two were hurrying back to the barracks, when they were stopped in their tracks
by a menacing growl.
Their
way was blocked by the biggest, blackest, meanest-looking German shepherd
Kinchloe had ever laid eyes on. Teeth bared, white foam slavering at the jaw,
the dog lowered itself on its haunches, powerful muscles quivering, ready to
pounce. One wrong move and he'd go for the throat.
"Sarge--?"
Olsen grabbed Kinchloe desperately by the sleeve. His hoarse whisper registered
an octave higher than normal. "What do we do?"
Trying
not to make any sudden moves, Kinchloe slowly held his arms out at his side, palms
open.
"Nice
doggie..." he crooned. "Pretty doggie...You don't want to hurt us, do
you?"
A
deep-throated growl was his only answer. Kinchloe swallowed. Now what? Remembering
how the dogs had reacted back at kennel when Hogan had called them, he took a
chance and whistled softly.
The
dog's ears instantly perked up. He turned his head, curiously eyeing the two
POWs, as if saying, Was ist los?
"That's
it, boy," Kinchloe crooned. "We're friends...aren't we, boy?" He
whistled again, the same way he used to when calling his own dog all those
years ago, while growing up in Detroit. On impulse, he began to slowly lower
himself to the dog's eye level--inch by excruciating inch--until he was
crouching in front of the German shepherd.
Sweating,
despite the sub-freezing temperatures, Kinchloe held out his hand, palm down,
to the dog. The shepherd gave a low growl, suspicious of his moves. Kinchloe
tamped the impulse to jerk his hand back, managing to keep it steady.
The
next instant, the dog tentatively touched his muzzle to Kinchloe's fingertips,
sniffing curiously. Within seconds, he was snuffling up against the NCO's face,
whining softly.
"Yeah,
boy..." Kinchloe whispered, rubbing him affectionately between the ears.
"That's a good boy..."
Olsen
reached over and lightly petted the dog's head. "Hey, buddy, you're really
not a killer, are you? You were drafted, just like the rest of us." He
smiled at Kinchloe. "I can't b'lieve it, Sarge. He's a real pussycat,
ain't he?"
The
German shepherd growled at this, causing Olsen to suddenly jerk his hand back.
"Okay, okay...Take it easy, pal! No insult intended. Jeez!"
After
a few minutes of cementing their newfound friendship, the men were about to
part from the dog, when they heard voices approaching.
"Krauts!"
Olsen hissed. Kinchloe held his hand up for quiet. The dog's haunches began to
quiver in sudden anger. A growl started deep inside his throat, and then began
building. Kinchloe watched helplessly. Would the dog turn on them? To his
surprise, his four-legged friend suddenly spun round and took off, a ferocious
killer again.
Around
the corner, he heard a sudden cry of surprise.
"Was
ist los--!?"
"Der
hund ist sehr verrückt--!"
"Yeah,
Fritz, your dog's crazy all right! Crazy about American
G.I.s!" Kinchloe quipped, grinning. He tapped Olsen on the arm, and they
both sprinted in the opposite direction. As they ran, they could still hear
frightened yelps of pain coming from the guards.
****
[Wednesday 04 NOV
1942//0530hrs local]
LuftStalag 13,
Barracks #2
Present time...
****
The
silence was shattered by the guards storming into the barracks.
"Raus! Raus! Appell!" Schultz's voice boomed. The prisoners slowly threw off
their bed covers, groaning and muttering blearily. They'd had little sleep the
previous night and were all in a foul mood.
Hogan
checked his watch. 0530 hrs. Right on time! He'd had even less sleep
than his men. In fact, he'd had no sleep at all. After he'd returned to the
barracks, he'd waited a few minutes for Kinchloe's return. He'd just about
decided to go out again and look for him, when Kinchloe and Olsen made it back.
He
remembered his intense relief on hearing two desperate raps on the window
shutters--the signal!
****
[Wednesday 04 NOV
1942//0130hrs Zulu]
LuftStalag 13,
Barracks #2
Earlier that
night...
****
"That's
them! Quick--let 'em in!" Before he'd even finished the sentence, the
window had been thrown open, and Olsen and Kinchloe were hauled in. Hogan stood
back, waiting until the two men were safely inside.
Pointedly
checking his watch, he quirked a single eyebrow at Kinchloe. "Young man,
how many times do I have to tell you that as long as you're living under my
roof, you will be in by curfew?"
Kinchloe
and Olsen chuckled. "Sorry, 'Dad,'" Kinchloe rebutted. "But my
date, here--" He nodded at Olsen. "--insisted on staying till the
last dance."
"If
any of my dates looked like that," a soldier piped up, "I'd just as
soon kill myself." Foster! Hogan remembered, pulling the soldier's
name from his memory banks.
"Hey!"
Olsen protested. "What's the matter with how I look? Olive drab really
brings out the green in my eyes, don'tcha think?"
Foster
threw a pillow at him, which Olsen easily caught. "Hey, thanks! I could
sure use this!"
"Okay,
knock it off!" Hogan ordered. "Everybody hit the sack. We've had a long
night, and the Krauts are just waiting for us to try something else."
Grumbling and muttering, the POWs started for their bunks.
"--No,
I get the top bunk!" Foster said sharply. Carter was staring at him, a bit
uncertainly.
"But
I always sleep on the top bunk!" Carter argued. Hogan and Kinchloe
exchanged tired glances. Now what?
"Listen,
you Indiana hayseed!" Foster said, taking a step closer to Carter, who was
clearly uncomfortable about arguing. "I was here first, so I'm taking
it!"
"Hey,
who are you calling a 'hayseed'?" Carter demanded. Hogan looked at
Kinchloe and jerked his head in the direction of the two antagonists. Kinchloe
nodded curtly.
"Carter!
Foster!" he called, his voice steel-edged. "You heard the Colonel.
Knock it off! Hit the sack--the both of you!"
Foster
immediately pulled himself onto the top bunk.
"Hey!"
Carter protested.
"Sorry,
Hayseed," Foster muttered, eyes closed. "I guess you're just too
slow."
Carter
nodded in sad agreement. "Yeah, boy, I guess you're right. If I hadn't
been outside, hiding from the Germans in the water tower, I guess I might've
gotten first dibs. I guess you got the top bunk fair and square."
Shrugging, he started peeling his outer clothing.
As
Carter undressed, Foster slowly opened his eyes and watched the young sergeant
get ready for bed. Carter's words had stung. While the 'Indiana Hayseed' had
been outside, risking his life, what had Foster been doing? Nothing, except
ensuring his own comfort by staking out the top bunk.
He
lay awhile, racked by guilt. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he swung
off the bunk and shook Carter, who was already under the covers, on the
shoulder.
"Hayseed,"
Foster called softly.
"That's
Sgt. Carter to you," Carter muttered, without opening his
eyes.
Foster
nodded, and realizing that Carter couldn't see him through his closed eyes,
readily acknowledged, "Okay, Sergeant," he said softly. "I'm
sorry I called you a 'hayseed.' Look, to make it up to you why don't you go on
ahead and take the top bunk? It's yours."
Carter
opened his eyes, glaring at Foster. "How come?"
Foster
shrugged his shoulders. "You were right. I was way out of line. And
besides, I'm afraid of heights." Carter made no immediate move, but rather
stared uncomprehendingly. "Go on--take it!" Foster insisted.
Carter's
suspicious glare suddenly brightened into a wide smile. "Hey, boy! You're
all right!" As he spoke, he excitedly threw back his covers and about to
climb onto the top bunk, he suddenly paused. "Pals?" he asked,
sticking his hand out.
"Pals!"
Foster agreed, taking the proffered hand and shaking it.
Kinchloe
and Hogan, who'd continued to watch the little interplay between the two
soldiers from the sidelines, exchanged amused looks. Once it was apparent that
the barracks had finally settled down for the night, they both turned to
Hogan's quarters.
****
"Okay,
what've you got?" Hogan asked. Kinchloe made a face and handed Hogan the
message he'd decoded from their former Headquarters.
"You're
not gonna like it, Colonel," Kinchloe warned. Hogan scanned the opening
transmission codes and looked up, a sour look on his usually pleasant features.
"'To:
Goldilocks, From: Papa Bear'?" he asked.
Kinchloe shrugged his shoulders.
"You
said you wanted me to make HQ believe that it was really us who
were transmitting."
"And
'Black Knight One' never occurred to you?" Hogan asked. Kinchloe's eyes
fell momentarily.
"Sorry,
sir...but that's not your call sign anymore. Major Zapinski--"
"--Is
'Black Knight One,'" Hogan finished. Sighing, he shrugged sadly, and then
added, "S'okay, Kinch." He bent his head to read the rest of the
message.
Kinchloe
waited patiently while his C.O. read the lengthy message, grimacing at the
thunderous expression that came over the senior officer. Hogan cursed under his
breath.
"He's
out of his mind," he said finally. Looking up from the message, he glared
at Kinchloe. "And just how does Gen. Duncan expect us to perform this
little miracle? Wave a magic wand and say 'Abracadabra'? Doesn't
he know we're prisoners of war?"
"I
did point that out to him, Colonel," Kinchloe replied. "The General
said something about how we can't let a 'little bad break' like that stop
us."
Hogan
glared critically at Kinchloe. "You know what I hate about you, Kinch? You
have a way of making my own words come back and haunt me."
"I
try, sir."
"Yeah,
well the last laugh's gonna be on all of us. We're stuck in the toughest POW
camp in all of Germany, and Duncan expects us to just waltz out of here and
commit sabotage. I don't get it. Did he say why the local Underground couldn't
carry out the mission without us?" Hogan paced in anger. "I mean,
excuse me, but I must've left my plastic explosives in my other pants before I
was shot down! We don't have weapons of any kind--Hell, we don't even have a
map of the area!"
Kinchloe
shrugged in sympathy. "Duncan said that London will contact the local
Underground for us. They should have all the supplies and materiel that we'll
need. It's up to them as to the how and when they'll contact us. In the
meantime--"
"--In
the meantime, Duncan says that the idiots in London expect us to
stop this shipment of heavy water. Nuts!" He crumpled the
paper in his hand. "How are we supposed to recognize the contact? Do we
know the secret handshake?"
"Goodnight,
My Love."
"Well,
goodnight to you too, Sergeant. But isn't this rather sudden?" Hogan
quipped. If it were possible for Kinchloe to blush, Hogan imagined he'd be red
from head to toe at this moment. The radioman rolled his eyes in long suffering
silence.
"I
meant the song," he muttered, looking put out. "That's the
recognition signal."
Hogan
grinned. "That's a relief. I admit you look rather fetching in your
battledress, Kinch, but you're just not my type."
Kinchloe
closed his eyes, wishing the whole conversation would just go away. How do I
get myself into these things? he wondered. He waited for Hogan to say more,
and when he didn't Kinchloe began to worry. It wasn't like his C.O. to face a
new challenge without a positive can-do attitude. This mission must really have
him concerned.
"Tell
me, Kinch," Hogan said pensively. "Do you see a red cape on my
back?"
"No,
sir--?" Kinchloe answered, a little confused.
"Too
bad. I have a sudden desire to fly out of here under my own power." Hogan
sat down on the bunk, drawing his knees up to his chest. Releasing a long,
heartfelt breath, he said wryly, "But I guess that's no more gonna happen
than us stopping that shipment." He looked up ruefully at his right hand
man. "Grab some sack time, Kinch. No sense in both of us staying up
worrying about this."
Kinchloe
nodded and left his Commanding Officer to his private thoughts.
****
Hogan
spent the better part of the night studying the message from Headquarters.
Unable to sleep, he'd paced until Schultz and his bullyboys came storming in.
By
then, a plan that had been niggling at him in the back of his head finally
began to take form. As he walked out for morning roll call, he thought he knew
what needed to be done.
"It's
crazy," he told himself. "And I'm crazy for even considering
it!"
****
End of Part 5