[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0915hrs local]

[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0915hrs local]

Gestapo Headquarters, Wurzburg

****

"And why was the Abwehr not informed of this capture, Major?"

Tischler stood nervously at attention before the Abwehr general. The general's aide, Major Neukirche, had introduced him as General Karteig, in charge of relocation and interrogation of all persons deemed 'enemies of the state.'

They were speaking in English to avoid any eavesdropping. The general was speaking--or rather screaming--at Tischler.

"As you know, the head of the Abwehr, Admiral Canaris has been authorized by Reich Fuehrer Goebbels to investigate any matter involving the treasonous act of hiding any known enemies of the state!"

"Nein, Herr General!" Tischler responded.

"Wha-aat??!!" Karteig shrieked. "Are you implying that I am lying to you?"

"Nein, Herr General," Tischler stammered. "I-I only meant that I was not aware of any such orders--"

"How long have you been in command here?" Karteig demanded. An insane look had come over the general's blue eyes. Tischler felt his knees turning to jelly. He glanced over at Neukirche, but the general's aide was determinedly studying a spot on the wall.

"F-For s-six months, Herr General," he managed.

"And in that time, you haven't bothered to read Reich Order four-three-seven-nine-two-six slash A-two-B?" Karteig yelled.

Neukirche bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Carter is layin' it on a bit thick, eh?

Unexpectedly, his eyes fell on a bright, gleaming object lying on Tischler's desk. Glancing askance at the Gestapo major, Neukirche saw that his attention was completely taken by Karteig. Casually brushing his fingertips past Tischler's desk, Neukirche palmed the object and smoothly transferred it to his inside coat pocket.

Tischler, meanwhile, anxiously shook his head. Seeing the insane glint return to Karteig's eyes, he quickly changed it to a desperate nod. His Adam's apple bobbing up and down, he stuttered, "I-I...y-yes, of course, I have, Herr General."

"Oh, really?" Karteig asked silkily. Taking out a folded document from inside his overcoat, he dramatically opened it and held it before him. "Then what, may I ask, does paragraph four, subsection two-C state?"

Tischler swallowed nervously. "Um...S-subsection, um, uh...two-C, mein Herr?" He fingered his collar, suddenly feeling hot and sweaty inside the drafty office.

Karteig whirled towards Neukirche. "Who placed this incompetent in charge here? Make a note, Major Neukirche. To Reich Fuehrer Goebbels! Inform the Reich Fuehrer that the Wurzburg Gestapo office obviously does not take the internal security of the Third Reich seriously. Recommend immediate transfer of its Commanding Officer, Major Tischler, to the Eastern Front!"

"Jahwohl, Herr General!" Neukirche snapped, writing quickly in a small notebook.

"Herr General!" Tischler interrupted, his voice pleading. "Please, sir! I remember now! The Reich Order states unequivocally that--um..."

Tischler stopped, fishing for words that wouldn't come. Karteig disdainfully turned his back on him, giving Neukirche the chance to surreptitiously sidle up to the terrified Gestapo officer.

"--That all 'special' prisoners will be immediately transferred to the authority of the Abwehr," Neukirche supplied quickly under his breath.

"--That all 'special' prisoners will be immediately transferred to the authority of the Abwehr!" Tischler echoed triumphantly. He shot Neukirche a grateful look.

Karteig whirled around, his insane look instantly changing to one of benign kindness. He smiled gently at Tischler.

"That is correct, Herr Major!" he said, pretending not to notice Neukirche stepping away from Tischler's side. "I knew that the Abwehr's good friends, the Gestapo, would not select a moronic simpleton--like that Kommandant of LuftStalag 13--to command such an important field position."

Tischler fairly glowed under the praise. Swallowing nervously, he cleared his throat. "Umm...Herr General...I am required by regulations to clear the prisoner transfer with Berlin--"

At that moment, the phone ringing interrupted them. Tischler jumped to pick it up.

"~Major Tischler speaking. Heil Hitler!~" he said. "~Who? Major Kinchmacher from Gestapo Headquarters in Berlin? Ah, yes, major, I remember that I spoke to you last--~" He stopped, swallowing. "~But--~" he said. "~But--~" He started sweating under the collar again. Catching Neukirche's sympathetic eye, he shook his head in desperation.

"~But we were ambushed, Herr Major! Not a kilometer from the building--~" he stopped. "~The special prisoners, Herr Major?~" he stammered, nodding his head, trying to get a word in edgewise. "~Col. Feldcamp wishes them transported to Berlin--?~"

"~Impossible!~" screamed Karteig. Grabbing the handset from Tischler, he proceeded to shriek into the mouthpiece. "~This is General Karteig of the Abwehr! Who is this!!??~"

His face and neck reddening dangerously, he listened. "~Major Kinchmacher, I'll only say this once--!~"

Major Neukirche moved up to him and spoke sotto voce into his ear. "~General...your blood pressure. Please, you must calm down...~" Karteig looked like was going to explode, but then at the next moment, he nodded and visibly calmed himself.

Turning back to the phone, he spoke in a more moderated tone.

"~Major Kinchmacher, I have only one thing to say to you and Col. Feldcamp. Interfere with the Abwehr's authority over this matter, and I shall take the issue up with the Fuehrer himself. What's more, I will personally lead the firing squad. Do I make myself clear, Herr Major?~"

He listened a moment longer. Smiling a smile that only a rattlesnake might find endearing, he handed the phone back to Tischler.

"~I believe, that you will find Gestapo Headquarters quite cooperative now, Major Tischler,~" he said.

Nodding nervously, Tischler took back the phone. Listening momentarily, he nodded several times, saying "Jahwohl" over and over and then hung up. He looked up at Karteig and snapped to attention.

"Gestapo Headquarters ordered me to fully cooperate with the Abwehr, Herr General."

"Good...good," Karteig said with a smile. Abruptly, his demeanor instantly changed back to maniacal.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" he screeched.

Tischler jumped. He jerked open his door and immediately began shouting out orders. Taking great comfort in the knowledge that his job was secure, for the moment at least, he thoroughly enjoyed making others jump in terror.

****

[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0945hrs local]

Main Hallway, Gestapo Headquarters, Wurzburg

****

Karteig and Neukirche exchanged unreadable looks. While Tischler's back was to them, they donned full-face masks. Taking out their Lugers from their holsters, they removed the safeties.

Neukirche crossed the main entrance and opened the double doors. This was the signal Hogan had been waiting for. He also donned a full-face mask, and brandishing a semi-automatic Schmeisser with a folding metal stock, jogged up the Rathaus stairs. The faded outline of a green tree could still be made out on the facade of the building.

The tree of justice, Margarethe had called it. Unfortunately, the black shadow cast by the Nazi flag fluttering in the biting breeze was currently swallowing it.

Hogan coldly eyed the two outside guards who'd quickly stiffened at his approach. They each brought their weapons up to bear, blocking the entrance. Hogan halted but he didn't lower his weapon. Instead, he held the Schmeisser almost nonchalantly, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. Neukirche quickly stepped in, allaying the guards' fears.

"~Stand at ease! The colonel is with me!~"

The guards exchanged nervous looks, but slowly lowered their weapons nonetheless. A two-ton truck with military markings pulled up into the Rathaus' circular driveway.

Several armed and masked soldiers in Abwehr uniforms jumped out of the rear of and took up positions around it. Hogan waved at the short driver of the black sedan who was still waiting for Neukirche and Karteig. The driver waved back and climbed into the sedan. He started the motor and pulled out in front of the truck.

Inside the Rathaus, Tischler finally noticed Karteig's mask. "Herr General? I do not understand?"

"These are enemies of the state, Herr Major," Karteig said curtly. "The Abwehr works best anonymously. Many of our operatives work undercover. There is no telling if any of these prisoners might recognize us. It is better that our identities remain secret."

At this moment, the prisoners were escorted in under heavy guard.

Mother Bernadette looked calmly at Major Tischler and the strange masked man. "~Herr Major, is all this really necessary?~" She waved at the armed men. "~Most of these children aren't old enough to read, yet. I assure you that you and your guards are under no danger from them.~"

"Who is this woman?" Karteig screamed. Several of the children immediately started to cry.

"Please! You are frightening the children!" Margarethe protested. She knelt down and picked up a tiny child who looked no older than three.

"I--? I--frighten children? How dare you, Fraulein!" Karteig shrieked. The children began wailing in terror. The little one that Margarethe held, hid her small face in the young woman's shoulder. "Why...I love children!" Karteig eyes were again insane. "There is no one in the Fatherland who loves children more than I--except perhaps the Fuehrer himself!"

"Then why are you doing this?" Bernadette asked. "These children are no one's enemy. It is not their fault that--"

"Of course, it's their fault!" Karteig interrupted. "Whatever it is that makes them enemies of the state--it is no one else's fault but their own!"

"Herr General!"

They turned to the new voice, an Abwehr colonel. "The truck is ready for the transport of the prisoners."

"Very well, Herr Oberst. Take the prisoners. But be careful--I do not trust that small one. She might be a midget in disguise."

"A midget--!" Margarethe protested. "But that is preposterous--!"

"Of course, Herr General!" The colonel clicked his heels smartly in acknowledgement. "Major Neukirche! Get these dangerous prisoners loaded onto the truck. We have a long way to go!"

"Jahwohl, Herr Oberst!" Neukirche acknowledged.

****

[Monday 23 NOV 1942//0955hrs local]

Outside Gestapo Headquarters, Wurzburg

****

The masked soldiers stood mute guard as Neukirche and Hogan loaded the women and children onto the back of the truck. Karteig remained at the top of the stairs, Tischler next to him. When the last child was lifted onboard, Karteig casually re-holstered his weapon.

"Another victory for the Fatherland, Herr Major," he said. "These criminals shall be taken to a special place where they will no longer be a danger to the Third Reich." His cold eyes smiled under the hooded mask, sending a shiver through Tischler.

"The Abwehr has had plenty of practice in erasing the existence of dangerous enemies everywhere. I assure you...these midgets will never grow up to raise a weapon against the glorious Reich."

He snapped out a stiff-armed salute. "Heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler!" Tischler returned.

Karteig marched stiffly to his waiting car. The driver stood by the rear passenger door. As soon as Karteig climbed inside, the driver shut the door and quickly slid in behind the wheel. The black sedan pulled out of the Rathaus' circular driveway, followed by the truck.

As the vehicles disappeared into the distance, Tischler finally released the breath that he'd been unconsciously holding.

****

[Monday 23 NOV 1942//1035hrs local]

Forest outside Hammelburg, Germany

****

The truck slowed to a stop. Margarethe comforted the still-whimpering children. She was more frightened now than when the Gestapo had taken them into custody. She thought of that horrible man, Karteig and how he'd deliberately terrorized the already frightened children.

She looked towards Mother Bernadette. The Mother Superior was rocking an inconsolable child in her arms, murmuring the Hail Mary over and over. The other nuns were also doing their best to comfort the terrified children.

As soon as the truck stopped, the guards that had accompanied them lowered the tailgate and jumped out. Margarethe saw that they had pulled into a deep, wooded forest. Fear clutched her throat. Would this be the end?

Margarethe and Bernadette exchanged looks. Bernadette regarded her calmly.

"~Have faith, my child,~" she murmured. "~Trust in God. Whatever happens, it is His will.~"

Margarethe raised her chin proudly and gave Bernadette a brave smile.

"~Everybody that's an 'enemy of the state' get out!~" an amused voice shouted. Margarethe paused. That voice! So familiar! But it couldn't be--could it? She exchanged a hopeful look with Bernadette and then quickly made her way towards the tailgate.

She was greeted by several unmasked Abwehr soldiers wearing huge smiles. Among them stood Newkirk, Kinchloe, and Hogan.

Instantly, her joy turned to anger, and she jumped to the ground, her eyes blazing.

"How dare you! How dare you not tell us before now! You frightened the children! You frightened Mother Bernadette and the other sisters. You even frightened me! How could you? What kind of men are you, anyway?"

She spotted Carter, wearing a general officer's uniform, and whirled on him. "And you!" she hissed, pointing her finger accusingly. "You are the worst of all! You deliberately took pleasure in making the small children cry!"

Carter withstood the onslaught, eyes downcast, his expression miserable.

"You are worse than the Gestapo--" she began.

"Margarethe!" Hogan's sharp voice cut in. She turned on him, her anger fueled by the fear she'd been put through and the betrayal she'd felt at his hands.

"How could you?" she whispered. She looked at the point of collapse. Hogan grabbed her immediately. "How could you?" She leaned her forehead on his chest and sobbed quietly.

"I'm sorry," he said fiercely, holding her closely. "But it was necessary--"

"Sir?!" Kinchloe interrupted. "We have to hurry!" Hogan nodded and jerked his head in the direction of the children. The men were quickly offloading them from the back of the truck onto an excursion autobus.

"Margarethe, I'm sorry we frightened you and the others, but we had to," he said. "You never would have been released if we hadn't been able to 'out-Gestapo' the Gestapo."

"But once we were safely away?" she demanded tearfully. "Why not then?"

"Because we couldn't risk being stopped at any checkpoints, and the children accidentally revealing that we were their friends. We had to keep up the charade until we were sure that it was safe to reveal who we were."

He released her slightly, looking longingly at her. "Believe me...I am more sorry than words can say. We all are." He indicated Carter who stood, shoulders slumped, the picture of pure misery.

Feeling guilty for what Carter must have been going through, Margarethe walked up to him. Touching his arm lightly, she startled him out his gloom.

"Please...?" she said softly. "We have not been properly introduced. I am Margarethe Wunderling. And you are--?"

Carter instantly turned scarlet from his neck to the tips of his ears. Stammering, he tried to answer. "Uh...My, um, name, uh...is, um, Carter, ma'am," he managed shyly. Margarethe smiled.

"Thank you, Carter," she said, standing on tiptoe and pecking him on the cheek. "For everything." Deeply embarrassed, Carter looked everywhere but at her, too tongue-tied to respond.

Mother Bernadette walked up to them at that moment. Or at least, Margarethe thought it was the Mother Superior. Margarethe stared at the apparition.

She looked like Mother Bernadette. She held the small child, whom Gen. Karteig had terrorized, in the same comforting manner of Mother Bernadette. She spoke in Mother Bernadette's soothing tones.

The only problem was that she was not dressed in Mother Bernadette's traditional black and white habit. In fact, she was dressed in an outfit that Margarethe would never in her life have expected to see the Mother Superior wearing--that of a Hitler Youth Leader.

Bernadette looked almost as embarrassed as Carter had been by Margarethe's kiss. "Col. Hogan," she began, bewildered. "I do not understand the necessity for this charade. Why must I and the other sisters wear this abomination?" She indicated the uniform.

Hogan was about to answer, when Margarethe cried out in shock, "Col. Hogan! Is this some kind of joke? I will not wear such a monstrosity!"

"Oh, yes, you will--!" he began, but was interrupted by Carter, who was pointing excitedly at the little girl.

"Hey! Isn't that the midget--?" the young sergeant asked. Bright blue eyes animated, he stepped up to Bernadette, and holding out his hands, he gently pried the squirming, wide-eyed tyke from her. "Why, you're just as cute as a button," he crooned softly.

The little girl continued to struggle in his arms. "Y'know," Carter said, a smile lighting his features, "I have a little cousin not much older'n you. What's your name?"

Carter's gentle approach and soothing tones finally calmed the child's fears. She solemnly gazed back at him, fascinated. Curiously, she tweaked his nose with stubby fingers and laughed delightedly when Carter made a funny face. He looked up at Bernadette.

"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, but what's her name?" He rubbed the little girl's nose with his own.

"Ilse," Bernadette said warmly, running a finger down the child's apricot cheek. However, Carter and the Ilse had eyes only for each other. Smiling, she held her hand gently over both their heads in silent blessing.

"Ilse," Carter repeated. "Ilse..."

"Col. Hogan!" Kinchloe called from the bus. "It's time, sir!"

Hogan nodded his acknowledgement.

"Mother Bernadette, Margarethe," he said quietly, "I'm sorry, but the uniforms are necessary--"

"But they stand for everything we oppose!" Margarethe protested. "We cannot--!"

"Margarethe!" Bernadette said sharply. Margarethe looked at her, startled. Bernadette walked solemnly up to Hogan and placed her hand on his arm. "Can you suppose that our good colonel here and his men relish wearing these uniforms?" She whirled on the young woman.

"Do you think that mere clothing makes the person underneath it? We must each play several roles in our lifetime, my dear child. Today, we are called upon to do this...not for ourselves, but for the children."

Margarethe bowed her head in shame. "Forgive me, Mother," she said sincerely. "I spoke out of turn."

Smiling, Bernadette turned to Hogan. "Vulpem pilum mutat, non mores, eh, Colonel?"

Hogan grinned. "Yes, but in your case, Mother, it's not the fox wearing a new fur, but the lamb donning wolf's clothing." Catching Kinchloe's anxious eye, he started heading them towards the bus.

"This bus will take you on to Heidelberg," he told them. "You and the others are on a school excursion as part of a Hitler Youth rally. You'll find enough armbands and uniforms on the bus. I'm sorry, but you'll have to pretend you're fanatic Hitler Youth leaders for a couple of days." He grinned slightly. "How's your 'Heil Hitler'?"

Putting on a serious face, Margarethe held her arm out stiffly, and clearing her throat cried out, "Heil Hitler!"

Hogan shook his head. "Maybe you'd better practice a little," he said, warm brown eyes smiling down at her. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "The bus driver and two male 'teachers' who will accompany you are members of the German Underground."

When they reached the bus, Bernadette turned to Hogan. She indicated that he bow his head slightly. When he did so, the Mother Superior laid her hands lightly on his head, and recited a short blessing. "May the Lord watch over you and keep you safe. Amen."

Then, placing her hands tenderly on either side of his face, she pulled him down to her, and gave him a motherly kiss on the forehead. With that, Bernadette climbed on board the bus.

Hogan turned back to Margarethe, who waited mutely. He gave her a quick rundown on what they were to expect.

"When you get to Heidelberg you will board a Rhine River cruise liner for a day trip. The boat will make an unscheduled stop in Strasbourg, where you will be met by members of the French Underground. They will escort you south across the border into Switzerland. Arrangements have already been made to have you transported on to England from there."

He caressed her upturned cheek.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked softly. She shook her head, a single tear trailing down her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her gently, their lips barely touching. An embarrassed throat being cleared interrupted them.

"Beggin' the Colonel's pardon," Newkirk began awkwardly. Clearing his own throat, Hogan straightened and gave the RAF corporal a questioning look. "Sister?" Newkirk said. "I believe that I have something that belongs to you."

He reached inside his overcoat and held his hand out, opening it slowly. The morning sunlight gleamed on a bright object, revealing its many faceted semi-precious stones on a gold setting.

"Father Schumacher's crucifix!" Margarethe cried. Hands shaking, she took the beautiful icon from Newkirk. "Where--? How--?" she asked.

Newkirk smiled slightly, his usual smirk absent. "Well, Sister...we all have our gifts. Let's just say that a magician never reveals his tricks!" He glanced over at Hogan, who gave him a short nod of approval, and he suddenly felt his chest swell with pride. Newkirk quickly excused himself, leaving Hogan and Margarethe alone.

Feeling the preciousness of the moment, Hogan gently touched her face, his fingers feather soft. His warm eyes looked in hers with sad regret. Knowing that it was time, he finally spoke. "I guess this is good-bye--"

"No--!" she said fiercely, burying her face in his chest. "No, not good-bye!" She looked up at him, her tear-filled eyes momentarily alighting in a smile. Reaching behind her neck, she removed the simple, gold crucifix that she always wore and placed it on his open palm. Before he could protest, she firmly enclosed his hand over it.

"Keep it safe for me until after the war. And do not worry. You shall not need to look for me. If it is His will, I shall find you." She stood on tiptoe and caressed his cheek with a light kiss.

"So you see, my colonel...This is not good-bye. It is Auf Weidersehen."

****

[Thursday 26 NOV 1942//1230hrs local]

Barracks #2, LuftStalag 13

****

Hogan sat on his bunk, staring, unseeing at the orders from London. He was supposed to reconnoiter a new factory that was going up halfway between Hammelburg and Frankfurt am Main.

His orders were to blow it up if the factory was manufacturing a new-improved rocket fuel, which would give the German V-1 rockets an increased range--perhaps as far as Wales and Northern Ireland. Intelligence believed that the new fuel mixture was the first step in the development of the next generation of rockets, the V-2.

Destroying the factory could set back German rocket research and development by several months, perhaps years.

No rest for the weary, he thought glumly.

Today was Thanksgiving Day, his first as a prisoner of war. He thought of his mother and father, having to spend this day with both their sons gone.

Some day of thanks for the folks, he thought bitterly. Ryan, killed at Pearl Harbor. And me, a POW. An unpleasant thought occurred to him. What if they haven't yet received word of my capture? What if they think I'm dead--that they've lost two sons to this lousy war? What'll that do to Mom?

Suddenly feeling restless, he stood and walked to the window. He patted his pockets uselessly for a cigarette. He remembered that he'd given them up a little over a week ago, preferring the challenge of commandeering some of Klink's private stash of cigars, instead.

And what do you have to be thankful for, Colonel? he asked himself. He watched a lively one-on-one game of basketball between Olsen and Baker. Both men were excellent athletes and neither seemed to be able to find a weakness in the other. Newkirk called out 'helpful' suggestions from the sidelines, while Carter stood quietly next to him, simply enjoying the company of others.

In the short time since his arrival at LuftStalag 13, Hogan and his men had set up one of the most outrageous behind-the-lines covert operations of the war. With the full blessing of Allied High Command, Hogan's Heroes were quickly gaining notoriety among the Underground.

So far, they'd blown up three bridges--not counting the one in Wurzburg--sabotaged an arms shipment, exposed a double agent, and now rescued the leaders of the local Underground and the nuns and orphans of St. Johanniskirche from the Gestapo.

A busy couple of weeks there, Colonel. What'll you do for an encore? he asked himself.

Lay low for a while if I'm smart, he sneered.

Hogan knew that the sudden flood of sabotage activity in the area would arouse suspicion sooner or later. Laying low wasn't such a bad idea. Besides, today was Thanksgiving Day--the men deserved a break.

And your heart just isn't in it tonight, is it?

He thought about Kommandant Klink's 'generous' allowance of an extra ration of white bread to all POWs in honor of the holiday. At first, Klink had only offered the additional allotment to the American prisoners, but Hogan convinced him that such preferential treatment could only result in a morale problem among the other Allied POWs.

"You wouldn't want a sudden spate of attempted escapes, would ya?" he'd asked.

"No, of course, not," Klink responded, suspecting he'd been outmaneuvered but unsure how. Hogan allowed himself a small grin, which turned pensive again.

It had been four days, and he still had not received word about Margarethe and the others. Could something have gone wrong?

All too easily, he thought bitterly. You should never have allowed her to make such a dangerous overland trip. You should've insisted that Allied HQ send a sub for them--even if there were no military value to the mission.

You should've--

Kinchloe abruptly interrupted his private musings, bursting in the door excitedly without knocking.

"Sir!" he cried, rushing across the room towards him. Wordlessly, he handed Hogan a brief communique.

To: Goldilocks

From: Pied Piper

Message: Mission Accomplished. Sister Sends Warmest Regards. Mother and The Children Are Doing Fine. Request You Join Them In Giving Thanks For Safe Homecoming. God Bless and Keep You Safe. Love, Sister M.

Hogan took a deep heartfelt breath. He looked up at Kinchloe, his eyes lighting up with the first real smile in days.

"They're safe," he said unnecessarily. "Thank God, they're all safe."

Kinchloe nodded wordlessly.

Hogan kept his head down for a moment, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. When he finally looked up, his expression was serene. He walked towards his locker and dug out a bottle of bourbon that he'd 'liberated' following one of his last tête-à-têtes with Klink.

Pouring them each a generous drink, he lifted his glass in toast. "To safe homecomings!" he said.

"To safe homecomings," Kinchloe echoed. They clinked their glasses and then each took a deep gulp from their drink.

Laying down his glass, Hogan placed his arm around Kinchloe's shoulder and led him towards the operations map. About to speak, Kinchloe promptly closed his mouth when he caught a familiar gleam in the veteran pilot's eyes.

Using a pencil as a pointer, Hogan indicated a spot between Hammelburg and Frankfurt am Main.

"Isn't that the location of that new rocket fuel factory, Colonel?"

Marking the spot with a red pin, Hogan nodded and grinned broadly. "Kinch, I suddenly find myself feeling very thankful. I mean, take a good look at this place! It's a dump! Almost enough to make a grown man cry." He held his arms out, taking in the whole compound.

"Makes me thankful for everything I've ever had in my life. Parents who love me. An older brother who took the time to show me how to throw a curve ball. A Command I know can make a big difference to the war effort. And best of all, the greatest bunch of fellas a guy like me could ever hope to work with."

Kinchloe dropped his eyes in embarrassment at this last compliment.

"So, Kinch, what do you say, you and the fellas help me make this Thanksgiving Day extra special? You know--with all the trimmings?"

Kinchloe shrugged, nodding. "Sure, sir. What do you want us to do?"

Grinning wickedly, Hogan pointed at the red pin on the map. "Sergeant, how would you like to accompany me on a little Thanksgiving Day turkey roast?"

****

The End

####