Hogan's Heroes: Just Another Mission

by Syl

In the days following the Allied Invasion on the beaches at Normandy, one of our heroes is called upon to commit the ultimate sacrifice.

6. Part 6

Summary: One of our heroes is called upon to commit the ultimate sacrifice...the conclusion!

Author's Note: ~"Dialogue"~ denotes that a foreign language is being spoken, usually German.

Acknowledgement: Once again, a special thanks to Zoey Tranor--a terrific online pal and writer's secret weapon. And I must also thank Sandra Miller who took invaluable time from her own fanfiction writing and enormous responsibilities running the Bludhaven Library to help beta-read this story.

Disclaimer: Hogan's Heroes is owned by Paramount, Viacom and others; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome!

Copyright April 2002

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Just Another Mission

by Syl Francis

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Friday 18 AUG 1944/2245hrs local

On the Road, 15km SSE of the River Elbe Crossing at Dessau

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Sergeant Drexler stirred slightly, stifling a yawn. He was riding shotgun in the second vehicle, his weapon lying easily on his lap. The trip so far had been largely uneventful, the British prisoners surprisingly cooperative. The truck's headlights briefly illuminated a road sign. Dessau--15km; Berlin--200km respectively. Drexler suppressed another yawn. It was turning into a long night.

"~Reinhart, keep your proper distance from the lead vehicle. You are falling behind.~" Drexler sounded bored as he addressed his driver, one of the guards that had joined them at Stalag 13. After a few moments, Drexler squinted through the windshield, trying to spot the lead vehicle's taillights. Frowning, he called out sharply, "~Reinhart! We are falling too far behind! Speed it up! That is an order!~"

Reinhart drove steadily on, ignoring his senior occupant. To Drexler's shock, the seemingly oblivious driver suddenly turned off the main highway, onto a single lane country road heading away from Dessau. In the truck's side-view mirror, Drexler saw that the trail vehicles had followed them. Picking up his weapon, he aimed it at the disobedient driver.

"~Reinhart, stop this truck before I kill you.~" Drexler felt a momentary twinge of triumph as Reinhart slowed to a complete stop; however, the next instant, Reinhart shut the motor and turned off the headlights. Drexler saw that the trucks behind them followed suit.

"~Reinhart, I don't know what you think you are doing, but you are going to turn this truck around and get back on the highway." Steadily holding his weapon on the driver, he continued, "I'm placing you on report as soon as we arrive in Berlin! And I assure you, Maj. Hochstetter will have a field day with you!~"

"Well, mate...isn't it a good thing then that we're not going to Berlin after all?" Drexler froze as the cold metal of a weapon's muzzle touched his forehead. His eyes traveled the length of the Luger's gun barrel and followed it up to a pair of cold eyes--another one of the new guards that they'd picked up at Stalag 13.

The canvas cover of the truck's cargo bed was suddenly thrown back, revealing several automatic weapons aimed at him and at two of his original guards. The British POWs were all grinning down at him. The senior POW, Sgt. Ripley, slapped the new 'guard' on the back. The Luger, which he still held aimed steadily at Drexler, never wavered.

"Bloody good show, Leftenant Whittington!" Ripley cried out.

"Was ist los--?" Drexler sat unmoving as his driver, 'Reinhart,' casually pried his weapon loose from his numb fingers.

"I'm afraid that now you're our prisoner, Fritz!"  Whittington said with a grin.

"Aye, that he is, Leftenant!" Another voice called from the passenger side window. Smiling, Newkirk waved at Whittington. The next instant, his expression hardened as he opened the passenger side door, his weapon pointed threateningly. "Raus! Come on...Schnell!"

"Oui! Schnell!" LeBeau echoed, waving his weapon dangerously.

Nodding, Drexler quickly did as ordered, careful to keep his hands out in the open. His three original guards soon joined him. The four of them stood nervously, hands upraised. "~What do you intend to do with us?~" he asked.

"~I don't intend to do anything with you, mate,~" Newkirk replied blandly. "~But I understand that he has plans for you.~" He nodded at a man who'd mysteriously appeared from the woods that lined the road--Karl, Rapunzel's right hand man.

"We must hurry!" Karl said without preamble. "By now, the Gestapo major must be aware that he has lost his convoy." His men quickly rounded up the prisoners and prodded them into the woods.

Kurt, Rolf and the other phony SS guards shook hands all around with the Allied soldiers and hurried after Karl and his team. LeBeau and Newkirk found Rapunzel waiting in the thick underbrush, the less people who saw her, the better.

"Thank you, cheri," LeBeau said softly. Taking her hand in his, he gallantly kissed it, and then held it momentarily to his cheek. "Au Revoir!" As he stepped aside, Newkirk walked up to the beautiful and courageous partisan leader.

"Thanks just aren't enough," he said solemnly. "What you and your team did tonight...risking your lives to help rescue my countrymen..." Newkirk paused, overcome with emotion. "I'll never forget it. I promise." Smiling, Rapunzel stood on tiptoe and kissed the usually brash Englishman on the cheek. Newkirk ducked his head, his cheeks flushing hotly.

"Someone once said that 'the enemies of my enemies are my friends,'" Rapunzel said softly. "By the same token, 'the friends of my friends are twice fold mine." Karl appeared next to her, again seemingly materializing out of thin air. She looked up him and smiled. "We could not stand idly by and watch as our friends were taken by the Gestapo, could we?" Placing her hand on Karl's arm, she added, "We did no less than you would have done for us. Auf Wiedersehen, my friends!"

With a wave, she and Karl soundlessly disappeared into the thickets. Newkirk slapped LeBeau on the shoulder and both men hurried back to the waiting vehicles.

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Friday 18 AUG 1944/2245hrs local

Die Alpenrose Drogerie, Mutlangen

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The single, naked incandescent bulb cast harsh shadows on the men and lone woman sitting around the small, wooden table. They were in a hidden back room of the Alpenrose Drogerie, which was accessed through a secret panel behind one of the many shelves that held numerous bottles and vials.

The proprietor was Rose White's father and leader of the Mutlangen underground cell.

"Col. Hogan, forgive an old man his worries, but...if a company of British commandos could not do this, how can you hope to with only two men? Please...let us help you."

Hogan smiled. "We thank you for the generous offer, Herr Weiss, but the work you and your team have been doing here is too important to the war effort to risk."

"Father, I am sure that Col. Hogan and his men are quite capable and feel confident of their success--" Rose White began.

Kinchloe made a sour face. "I can't imagine what could've given her that idea," he muttered. Carter snorted and then when all eyes turned on him coughed to disguise the sound. Nervous, he cleared his throat, his eyes traveling around the small room in a poor attempt at nonchalance.

"--And if they're not interested in the secret tunnel entrance," Rose White continued, "why who are we to--?"

"Secret tunnel entrance?" Hogan and Kinchloe said at the same time.

"Hey! I know what this place is!" Carter interrupted. "It's a drugstore, isn't it?" He looked around at the others, a wide, pleased grin on his face. At the cold, still faces of the underground members, his grin slowly faded. Finally, he gave a small cough to cover his discomfiture.

"Secret tunnel entrance?" "Yes, it is!" Hogan and Rose White said at the same time. They looked at each other in momentary surprise. Smiling, Rose White addressed Carter.

"Yes, this is a chemist shop--or drugstore, as you would say. My father is the town's sole remaining chemist. I am afraid that the others were all drafted into the army."

"Secret tunnel entrance?" Hogan prompted.

"Could I look around?" Carter interrupted, unable to contain his excitement. Hogan and Kinchloe exchanged wry glances. "Maybe I could find something I could use!"

"Father?" Rose White asked. At her father's nod, Carter rose eagerly and crossed towards one of the myriad shelves that lined even this back room. After a quick glance at the labels on the bottles, Carter shook his head.

"May I search the front room?" he asked. At Weiss's nod, Carter happily ducked through the secret entranceway. Catching Kinchloe's eye, Hogan indicated that he should follow Carter.

"Keep him out of trouble," he muttered.

"Right," Kinchloe said and followed Carter.

"You were saying something about a secret tunnel entrance?" Hogan prompted.

****

Carter eagerly explored the many nooks and crannies of the small chemist's shop. It suddenly reminded him of home and his Dad's drugstore. Funny how certain things seemed to be the same the world over, he mused. Spotting a chemical formula that looked familiar he struggled with the rest of the label. Unable to read German, he picked up the bottle and turned to Kinchloe.

"Kinch, what's this say?" he asked, holding out the bottle. Kinchloe glanced over from the blacked-out window where he was keeping lookout. Taking one last look around the quiet street, he moved towards Carter and took the bottle from him.

Eyes squinting as he struggled with the unfamiliar words, he finally managed, "Potassium Nitrate...I think." He shrugged, handing it back.

"Boy, oh, boy!" Carter said excitedly. "That's what I thought it was, but I couldn't be sure."

"Why? What's so special about it?" Kinchloe asked.

"Now all I need is some string..." Carter continued, apparently lost in thought. "Maybe some kite string...that would work. Or even shoelaces...yeah! That's even better, 'cause they're already cut to size. Lessee..."

"String? Shoelaces?" Kinchloe interrupted. "Carter what are you talking about?" He trailed Carter around the tightly cramped aisles as the completely oblivious younger man meticulously searched each shelf and muttered to himself.

"Carter--" Kinchloe tried again, but Carter interrupted.

"Yep! Here they are! Oh, boy! Just like back home, Kinch," he chattered excitedly, holding up several small packets of shoelaces. "Y'know...a drugstore isn't just about drugs and stuff. It's more of a small haberdashery, selling a little of this and a little of that."

"A little of this and little of that, huh?" Kinchloe repeated.

"Uh-huh! Now...if only I can find some sugar...and soap. Yeah, soap would be good!"

Kinchloe shook his head. Whatever Carter was planning, it would speed things up if he just stood aside and let him get on with it. "I'll ask Herr Weiss if they have any," he said. But Carter was already busy measuring out the Potassium Nitrate into a petri dish.

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Friday 18 AUG 1944/2325hrs local

Main Tunnel under Barracks 2, LuftStalag 13

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Baker slouched wearily in his seat, headset hanging from his neck. Newkirk had reported over a half-hour ago that their mission was a success and that they were returning to base. Unfortunately, Hogan had yet to report in.

"Why don't they call?" Olsen asked again. Baker looked at him tiredly. He'd grown inured to Olsen's incessant pacing about two hours ago. Of course, it was the constant repetition of the same question that was beginning to wear thin on his nerves.

"Olsen, willya go to bed?" he asked impatiently. "You're driving me nuts."

"Come on, Baker, you know I can't sleep. Not now anyway." Olsen sat down suddenly. "I wish I'd gone with them."

"You can sure say that again, buddy."

At that moment, the lights suddenly went on and off. Someone had just opened the secret tunnel entrance. Instantly, both men were on their feet, Colt semi-automatic pistols at ready. Baker hit the light switch, immediately shrouding them in total darkness. They took positions on either side of the door that led from the radio room into the primary tunnel exit. Whoever it was--friend or foe--had to come through here, the main junction to the rest of the tunnel branches.

Finally, after several minutes of absolute silence, Baker heard the recognition signal--the opening bar to Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. Letting out a long sigh of relief, he hit the lights. He was soon rewarded by the sight of Newkirk and LeBeau jogging up to greet them.

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Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0015hrs local

Outside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

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"Col. Hogan, are you sure?" Weiss asked. "My men and I are ready to help."

"Yes, Colonel," Rose White added. "Please...it is our war, as much as it is yours." Smiling softly, Hogan took her hand and kissed it.

"I know," he said with a firm shake of his head. "But not this time." Sadly, he dropped her hand. "Herr Weiss, thank you for everything you've done, and for your offer. However, you've already done more than enough. And as it is...we're taking a big chance having one of your men drive us in with an unscheduled coal delivery."

"Oh, but Ernst knows the layout of the plant," Rose White reassured them. "He's delivered coal into the main compound on several occasions."

Smiling, Hogan agreed. "I'm confident everything is going to go well. You see, Kinch and I have the whole thing down now. We go in, lay the charges, and run like Hell!" This last was said with his usual impish smile.

"Yeah, we got it down all right," Kinchloe agreed dryly. "Especially the 'run like Hell' part." At Kinchloe's words, Weiss smiled and shrugged, shaking hands all around.

"Then God speed," he said. "My men and I will wait for you at the rendezvous."

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0015hrs local

Main Tunnel under Barracks 2, LuftStalag 13

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"Why don't they bloody call?" It was Newkirk's turn to pace incessantly. His nerves were raw with worry. Taking a last drag from his fifth cigarette in less than an hour, he impatiently stubbed it out and instantly started patting down his pockets for more.

Baker was too tired and too glum to be bothered by Newkirk's pacing. After Newkirk and LeBeau had arrived with the commandos, he'd radioed Goldilocks to arrange for a sub. As soon as they'd had a decent night's meal, he ordered everyone to grab some sack time. The commandos were currently bunked down inside an empty tunnel.  Because there weren't enough cots for everyone some had merely lain down on the hard-packed dirt floor, rolled up in a poncho.

Stalag 13 was well-stocked way station for escaping prisoners and downed pilots, but even their operation had never handled this many men before. Everyone was too exhausted to argue, grateful for an evening's respite. As for Newkirk, like Olsen earlier, he was too wound up to sleep. Therefore, he paced. And asked the same questions over and over.

Baker rolled his eyes and tiredly dropped his chin into this hand. He glared at Newkirk and basically ignored him. Baker's expression said it all: He didn't know--Period!

In other words, his answer had not changed from the last three times Newkirk had asked. "Are you sure your receiver is working?" Newkirk asked. Again.

"For the umpteenth time--Yes!" Baker muttered. He didn't even bother to look up. "I just did a commo-check with Goldilocks, remember? They're readying the submarine to pick up these guys in the next coupla days."

Nodding, Newkirk sat down and smoked quietly, lost in thought. "If anything happens to them..." he began and then stopped.

"Nothing's gonna happen to them!" Baker reached into Newkirk's right breast pocket and removed his crumpled cigarette pack. Taking a cigarette, he leaned forward and Newkirk quickly obliged by lighting it with his own. "The Colonel always lands on his feet, remember?"

Newkirk gave him a long, wordless stare. Nodding, he stood up, stubbed out his cigarette, and started climbing the ladder topside.

"Yeah..." he muttered. "Always lands on his feet."

Taking a long drag, Baker leaned back and closed his eyes. Nothing's going to happen to them, he said silently. Please...don't let anything happen to them.

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Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0105hrs local

Main Compound, Mutlangen Rocket Facility

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They were tightly packed under a heavy tarpaulin, with several hundred pounds of coal surrounding them, squeezing them in. Hogan had to hand it to Weiss and his men, the black tarpaulin might have passed for a pile of coal in the dark, moonless night, but they weren't taking any chances. They'd camouflaged the tarpaulin further by gluing papier-mâché in the form of black coal to it. To the casual observer, the truck was simply hauling its usual load of coal to the main power plant.

Still, they needed to get past the gate guard. This was an unscheduled run and it would take cool finesse on the part of Ernst to get them in. Hogan and his men waited tensely as the truck pulled to a screeching halt. Hogan could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

"Heil Hitler!" they heard Ernst say by way of greeting.

"Heil Hitler." The guard's response sounded tired and bored. Hogan felt himself begin to breathe easier. If the guard were bored, then he wouldn't be looking too closely. After what seemed an interminable moment, they heard the guard speak.

"~I don't have authorization here for a coal delivery.~"

"~Check again, please...~" Ernst's voice sounded annoyed. "~I've had this coal run on my schedule for a week now. Saturday morning...two tons of coal! See?"

Hogan could picture in his mind Ernst showing the guard his authorization sheet. The kid's good, he thought admiringly. Sounds like he's done this before.

"~But I don't have a delivery on my sheet,~" the guard protested. "~Perhaps I should call my supervisor to check--~"

"~No, wait!~" Ernst said quickly. "~Please, don't call...Look, I'll be truthful. This is really not an authorized delivery--~"

At his words, Hogan and his men tensed immediately, each quickly checking his weapon.

"~See, there is this new pretty fraulein in the Marchen Hofbrau...and I told her I would meet her tonight. But...this delivery. It's actually for tonight. So, I figured, I would deliver the coal a little early and no one would be the wiser. Please...be a friend. After all...we are all in this war together.~"

The guard laughed in appreciation.

"~Does she have a sister?~" he asked good-naturedly.

"~No, but she has a roommate!~" Ernst replied in kind.

"~In that case, make room for one more at your table! I'll be there after I get off-shift.~"

"Danke!" Ernst called as the truck started up again. Hogan, Kinchloe and Carter exchanged relieved looks.

"Boy...!" Carter said. "It's a good thing he's got a date and all tonight, huh, Colonel?" Hogan didn't bother to answer and Kinchloe simply rolled his eyes.

As soon as the truck was well away from the gate guard, Ernst slowed the truck momentarily.

"We are passing the fuel depot," he called softly. At his words, Carter grabbed three of the equipment satchels, and in sure fluid movements, vaulted off the back of the truck. Landing on the balls of his feet, he allowed his momentum to carry him forward, rolling several times until he came to a complete stop. Getting his bearings, he saw the truck continuing on towards its destination and regaining his feet began running in the opposite direction.

Within moments, he found the security gate leading to the fuel storage tanks, and a few moments after that, he was inside, racing to set his charges.

****

Hogan and Kinchloe waited without speaking. They listened on edge to every noise that might warn them of something gone amiss. Soon, the truck slowed to complete stop.

"Colonel," Ernst called. "We are here. Be ready...the first drop is twenty feet straight down. Remember what I said earlier...just close your eyes and go with it."

Kinchloe made a sour face. "Easy for him to say," he muttered. Hogan agreed. Apparently, the 'secret tunnel entrance' that Rose White had alluded to earlier that night was actually a coal chute through which Weiss had sent at least one agent to reconnoiter the interior of the rocket complex.

According to Ernst, after the initial twenty foot drop, the chute then leveled off at a steady forty-five degree angle, zigzagging every twenty feet or so. The chute opened up at the complex power plant, where the coal was fed to massive furnaces, which converted the energy to steam. The steam, in turn, was used to power the turbines, which generated the electricity needed to power the complex.

The plan was simple: Ernst would drop Hogan and Kinchloe through the coal chute along with the rest of the coal. The two heroes would then proceed from the furnace room to the rocket launch bay.

Simple...yeah, Kinchloe groused. All we have to do is keep from breaking our fool necks on the way down!

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Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0135hrs local

Main Compound, LuftStalag 13

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The black staff car practically flew to the front gates of the POW compound. Flags of the Third Reich fluttered crisply in the cool night air, announcing its unwelcome occupant. As the car came to a screeching halt outside the front gates, its horn immediately started honking, demanding entrance.

"Klink!" Hochstetter shouted. "Klink, if you don't open these gates, Dumkopf, I'll have you shot as a traitor!"

At his shouts, the camp, which had finally settled down into an uneasy peace, awoke with a start. Instantly a dozen searchlights criss-crossed the surrounding area outside the compound. The warning sirens went off, signaling a possible escape. The guard dogs barked and howled, wildly excited by the noise, ready to play hide-and-seek with the prisoners, or perhaps to take a bite out of one of the guards.

"Shultz!" Klink yelled, running out of his quarters. "What is going on here?" He was only half-dressed, his uniform jacket hastily thrown on and still unbuttoned. His high peaked cap was carelessly askew on his balding pate and dangerously close to falling off. As he called for Schultz, Klink hopped on one foot, struggling vainly with his boots, confused by the noise and activity. Had there been a massive escape, he panicked? His motorcycle and sidecar suddenly appeared before him.

"Guards!" he called, jumping clumsily aboard, still struggling with his boots. "Release the dogs! Fan out! Nobody escapes from Stalag 13!" As his sidecar took off unexpectedly, his hat fell over his eyes, temporarily blinding him as they headed towards the gate.

"Schultz!" Klink shouted, frustrated by the turn of events and therefore blaming the luckless Sergeant of the Guard. Naturally, he missed Hochstetter's black sedan as it passed him on its way to his office.

"Klink!" Hochstetter screamed, leaning out the passenger window and shaking a fist at the now clearly frightened Camp Kommandant. Klink immediately stood up in the erratically moving sidecar and awkwardly saluted the furious Gestapo officer. As he did so, the motorcycle hit a pothole, sending Klink toppling--boots and all--over the side.

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Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0135hrs local

Barracks 2, LuftStalag 13

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"Heads up, people!" Newkirk called. "It's Hochstetter!" He turned from the blacked out window and faced the rest of the POWs. "Oh, bloody bugger Hell! Now what do we do?"

"Hey, what's all the noise?" Baker demanded. His head peeked out at them from the camouflaged tunnel entrance ingeniously built into one of the bunks.

"It's Hochstetter!" LeBeau hissed. "We are in big trouble now. If he starts searching the barracks...!" He made a slashing motion across his throat.

"Then we can't let him search, can we?" Baker said.

"Did you not hear who is out there?" LeBeau repeated. "Hochstetter. And he's just lost over 50 prisoners, after he picked up new guards here--at Stalag 13!"

"Even Hochstetter should be able to add two and two," Newkirk agreed. "This is it, mates. It's been a barrel of laughs, but now--?"

"Is there anything we can do?" Whittington had suddenly appeared next to Baker.

"Look, we don't have a lot of time to discuss this," Baker said quickly. "But if they're searching for escaped prisoners, then I say we give them some."

"I beg your pardon?" Whittington stared at Baker in obvious surprise.

"Bloody hell! You've gone off the deep end, Baker!" Newkirk retorted. "If the Colonel were here he'd--!"

"No, listen!" Baker insisted. "We can't have them searching the barracks and discovering our whole operation. Not to mention finding the lieutenant here and his men." Baker watched the tense faces around him and momentarily panicked. What was he doing? He was just a junior buck sergeant. And he was addressing some of the most experienced covert operatives in the Allied armies.

Swallowing, Baker took a deep breath and steadied himself. After all, Hogan had placed him in charge of home base operations until his return. At least, that's what he told himself, as he faced down the others' grim looks.

"Okay, guys," he said, his tone reflecting a confidence he did not feel. "This is what we're gonna do."

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0135hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

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Hogan and Kinchloe braced themselves as best they could, keeping a tight hold onto their weapons and equipment, when suddenly, the bottom fell from under them. Within seconds, Hogan experienced a stomach-churning freefall, not unlike the one when he'd been forced to bail from his floundering B-17, Goldilocks, so long ago.

Almost too soon to prepare for it, Hogan found himself sliding and tumbling, head over heels and out-of-control, down the coal chute. As he came to a turn, first his right shoulder struck the chute wall as he continued careening down the slide, only to strike the wall again further down, this time on his left side.

And so it went...And then, almost as abruptly as it had started, Hogan slammed to a sudden, bone-jarring halt. Dazed, he lay still where he'd landed, trying to get his bearings. An instant later, he felt more than saw Kinchloe slam into the coal pile next to him. A soft groan assured him that his friend was still alive.

"Kinch...?" he croaked.

"Uhhhnn..." was the only answer he received. Worried, Hogan attempted to move towards the sound, when suddenly the bottom again dropped out from underneath them. This time, their trip was much more quick, and they fell a short, but painful distance. Groaning, Hogan and Kinchloe both lay on their backs, staring up at the impossibly high mountain of coal. Apparently, Hogan's movements had caused a small avalanche through the unstable pile of coal.

"Oh, my aching back," Kinchloe groaned. "That was some roller coaster ride."

"Tell me about it..." Hogan grumbled. Then, slowly, carefully he first sat up and moments later regained his feet. Reaching down he offered Kinchloe a hand up. "Come on, Kinch...the ground's stopped moving, at least."

"At least," Kinchloe echoed ruefully. "So what do we do for an encore? Get ourselves shot out of a cannon?"

"Kinch...we're inside a rocket base. Don't even joke about things like that."

Kinchloe gave Hogan a long look and slowly nodded. "Right..." he said slowly.

"Let's go," Hogan said tiredly and moved out with a slight limp. "The war's waiting." About to follow, Kinchloe took another look at the huge pile of coal and got a sudden idea.

"Uh, sir...?" he called.

"Yeah?" Hogan turned and waited. Kinchloe pointed at the coal mountain and then wordlessly struck a match, letting it die out in his hand. Hogan slowly nodded.

"Not bad, Kinch," he murmured. "Not bad at all." Without further comment, they removed their equipment shoulder bags and got to work.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0145hrs local

Main Compound, LuftStalag 13

****

Klink stood nervously next to Hochstetter. The Gestapo major had in short order taken command of the Stalag 13 guards and was personally leading the search effort. From what Klink could make out of his hysterical rantings and ravings, apparently Hochstetter had misplaced his convoy and was now here, blaming him for the mishap.

"But Maj. Hochstetter," Klink protested weakly, "I fail to see how your losing the prisoners under your command could possibly have anything to do with Stalag 13--?"

"Klink! No one cares what you think! Now, shut up and stay of my way!"

As always, Klink nodded meekly and did as ordered. "Yessir," he mumbled. "Shut up and stay out of your way."

"Sergeant of the Guard!" Hochstetter called. "I want all the prisoners rousted and standing out here immediately! If any prisoner fails to cooperate fully, he will be shot in front of the others--for crimes against the Third Reich!"

"Jahwohl, Herr Major!" Shultz nervously saluted, and shaking with ill-concealed fear, rushed off to carry out his orders.

Within moments, hundreds of Allied prisoners in various stages of dress and undress were pouring out of their dilapidated barracks onto the main compound. The men muttered and growled in sleepy anger at being suddenly awakened in the middle of the night.

"What's this all about, Schultzie?" Newkirk called.

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"A guy needs his beauty sleep!"

As the men lined up into some semblance of a military formation, Schultz and his men began counting them down. Moments later, Schultz counted again. Unhappy with the results, he ordered a third count, but by then Hochstetter was screaming in his ear.

"Report, Dumkopf!"

Looking around in vain for Hogan, the one man who always provided sanity and stability to his war, Schultz turned slowly and glanced regretfully at Klink. Then, his heart in his throat, Schultz reported the dreaded news:

"Herr Kommandant...Herr Major...There has been an escape--!"

"What--!!??" Klink shouted, stunned by the news.

"Jahwohl, Herr Kommandant. Twenty-five prisoners are missing...Including Col. Hogan." 

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0145hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

"Sir, you realize those homemade fuses and timers aren't entirely accurate," Kinchloe offered.

"I know that, Kinch," Hogan said. "I just wish you'd let me know a little sooner than the drugstore that we were short on fuses."

"There wasn't much you could do about it, Colonel," Kinchloe said. "And I saw no need to worry you any more than you were already."

"And what if Carter hadn't found the material necessary to manufacture his homemade fuses?" Hogan asked. "Would you have told me before we shot down that Coney Island ride into the furnace room?" Kinchloe didn't answer immediately.

"That's what I thought," Hogan said. He glanced at his friend. He wasn't really angry with Kinchloe for trying to protect him, but the mission could have been seriously jeopardized if Carter hadn't found the Potassium Nitrate and other materials needed to manufacture homemade fuses...

"We'll talk when this over, Sergeant," Hogan said formally.

"Yes, sir," Kinchloe said, snapping to attention. Without further comment, they moved out.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0150hrs local

Main Compound, LuftStalag 13

****

"Klink! I want the buildings searched and torn upside down! Schultz! Form a firing squad! If the British POWs aren't handed over immediately, I am going to start ordering a man shot every hour on the hour--!"

"What?!"

"He's out of his freakin' mind!" Baker muttered.

"Blimey, Kommandant! You can't let him--!" Newkirk called.

"Maj. Hochstetter," Klink blustered. "You haven't the authority to give such an order--!"

"Klink! I have all the authority I need!" Hochstetter shouted. "This!" Hochstetter pulled out his Luger and pointed it directly at Klink's temple.

"Y-Yes, sir..." Klink stuttered. "All the authority you need..."

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0155hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

Flitting quickly through the ubiquitous shadows, the two American flyers climbed the several sets of metal stairs that lined the entire East face of the furnace room. To Hogan's surprise, the room was largely unmanned at this time of night, with the majority of its operations automated. He and Kinchloe had watched fascinated as giant scoops dumped coal onto moving conveyor belts, which in turn, transported their cargo to the huge, open maws of the burning furnaces.

That had made their job all the easier. Working hurriedly, they'd set their charges onto the base of the main furnace, the conveyor belt, and the massive coal pile. Hopefully, when the big bang came, the coal would fuel a significant amount of collateral damage by igniting into flames.

They soon reached their next objective: the generator room. Recalling the plans he'd studied, Hogan knew that it lay two levels directly above the furnace room, where the heat generated by the giant furnaces could easily be converted into steam to power the turbines above them. To get in without undue problems, he remembered the phonebox placement at the other plant, which had been used for password clearance.

Searching the immediate area, Hogan found it easily and picking it up immediately yelled into it.

"~Achtung! Achtung!! Intruder alert! All rifle squads must report to their unit commanders immediately! Repeat! All rifle squads must report to their unit commanders immediately!~"

As soon as he finished, Hogan heard someone over the handset yelling questions, demanding the proper password for verification. Shrugging, he yanked the handset out of its base, and he and Kinchloe hid as best as they could along the shadows and recesses of the uneven walls. As expected, the doors leading from the generator room suddenly burst open, and a rifle platoon stormed out at the double and began running down the stairs that he and Kinchloe had just climbed.

As soon as the last man cleared the doorway, Hogan and Kinchloe sneaked out behind them, ducking through the heavy doors. As the doors slammed shut behind them, Kinchloe looked for something to jam them together. Spotting an iron bar that hung next to one of the doors apparently placed there for just this specific reason, he jammed it between the door handles.

They now found themselves on a catwalk overlooking a large open space. One level below, they could see the huge turbines. From where they stood, they could feel a deep thrumming coming from the powerful generators. Even now the giant turbines were generating the electricity needed to power the underground base. Using hand signals, Hogan indicated he'd go down a level and that Kinchloe should head right. Each man moved quickly, but stealthily.

Kinchloe heard approaching footsteps, and instantly vaulted over the side of the catwalk. Hanging on to the edge by the fingertips, he waited tensely for whomever it was to pass. As soon as they did, he swung his legs back up again to safety. Not taking time to consider the recklessness of his actions, he got up shakily and continued towards his objective.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0155hrs local

Main Compound, LuftStalag 13

****

"With Hogan missing, who is the senior POW here?" Hochstetter demanded. Klink looked around nervously, searching for someone to replace Hogan. At last, his eyes fell on Baker.

"You!" he called. "Sergeant...Baker? Is it not?" Baker nodded wordlessly. Klink scuttled up to him, and leaning in closely whispered. "Please...where is Col. Hogan? If he doesn't show up soon, Maj. Hochstetter is going to--!"

"Klink! I said I wanted the senior POW," Hochstetter yelled, stomping up to them. "I didn't say that you should start fraternizing with him!"

"I--?!" Klink gulped and quickly stepped aside.

"And where is my firing squad? Schultz!"

At that moment, a great underground explosion rocked the compound. Everyone, POWs and Germans, immediately dropped to the ground as a second and third explosion shook the camp.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0200hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

Reaching the control panels, Kinchloe hurriedly set one timer and then daisy-chained three long-burning fuses from it, running them in a straight line along the length of the control panel and finally attaching them to three explosive bundles.

Movement in the level below caught his eye--Hogan, he knew--setting explosive charges on the main turbines. He checked his watch. The initial explosives in the furnace room were set to go in another hour and a half. Not much time to take out the V2 rocket.

About to turn to go, he stopped suddenly. A black shadow was advancing stealthily towards Hogan!

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0200hrs local

Main Compound, LuftStalag 13

****

"Shultz!" Frightened and lying facedown on the hard-packed commons, Klink shouted for his rotund Sergeant of the Guard. Unable to breathe properly, he suddenly realized that Schultz was on top of him, clinging onto him for dear life. His fright changing to outraged disgust, Klink immediately started slapping Shultz's hands, trying in vain to dislodge him from on top of him.

"Dumkopf! Get off me! Schuuuuullltttzzz!" Within seconds, Klink felt other helpful hands assisting him to his feet. More importantly, he felt Schultz's considerable weight being pulled off him.

"Herr Kommandant..." Schultz protested nervously. "Are you all right? I was only trying to make sure that you--"

"Schultz! Shut up!" Klink yelled in exasperation. Looking around, he finally noticed that Hochstetter wasn't standing next to him. "Where is Maj. Hochstetter? That explosion! Where did it come from?" He stopped, looking around.

Eyes wide, Schultz made a show of searching his pockets. "I do not know, Herr Kommandant--" Klink rolled his eyes.

"Dumkopf!" Klink yelled, futilely waving his fist under Schultz's nose. As the prisoners slowly began to rise to their feet, Klink caught sight of the unconscious Gestapo major lying face up in the dusty ground. Even from where he stood, Klink could make out a thin line of red trickling from just above Hochstetter's left eye.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0205hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

Not bothering to consider his options, Kinchloe dove from the catwalk towards the moving shadow. With a painful grunt, he slammed into the huge enemy soldier who'd been about to knock Hogan over the head with a heavy wrench. Kinchloe's momentum carried them both forward, slamming them into the protective housing of one of the main turbines, and causing the enemy soldier to drop the wrench. At the same time, Kinchloe felt his head strike the metal housing and momentarily saw stars.

The next instant, Kinchloe was fighting for his life. The large German was holding him in a strong, vice-like grip. Kinchloe's head was being pushed dangerously close to the powerful turbines. Futilely, he gripped the German's wrists trying to remove them from his neck. He brought his knee up to his opponent's groin and kicked up with all his might.

The enemy soldier merely grinned in contempt. Kinchloe could feel himself beginning to blackout, when suddenly the pressure around his neck was gone.

"You okay, buddy?" Blearily, Kinchloe looked up, trying to focus through the painful haze that was quickly overtaking him. The last thing he saw was Hogan's worried frown, a heavy wrench gripped tightly in his left hand.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0205hrs local

Main Compound, LuftStalag 13

****

"The infirmary..." Hochstetter dazedly muttered.

"Yes!" Klink agreed, helping him to his feet along with Schultz's assistance. "Schultz, escort the major to the camp infirmary--!"

"Nein! Nein!" Hochstetter muttered groggily, weakly waving his arms in protest at being manhandled by Klink. "The infirmary...it came from..." Hochstetter's voice died out as he succumbed to unconsciousness again.

"Yes, yes, Major Hochstetter," Klink agreed soothingly. "We are taking you to the infirmary right now. Schultz! Alert the camp doctor!"

"Jahwohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz said, saluting crisply. About to take off, he stopped as Klink continued rattling off orders.

"And I want the bomb squad assembled immediately!"

"Jahwohl, Kommandant Klink--!"

"A stretcher! Send for a stretcher!"

"A stretcher! Jahwohl--!"

By now, the camp was in a flurry of activity--guards double-timing in different directions in small patrol squads, teams of dog-handlers jogging by in twos and threes. The sounds of motors roaring to life could be heard from the camp motorpool, and the omnipresent sirens and searchlights continued their relentless wailing and sweeps of the camp perimeter. Into the frenzied chaos, a single quiet voice spoke.

"Umm...? Kommandant Klink?" Klink was preoccupied with Hochstetter and therefore didn't hear his name at first. "Sir? Colonel Klink?" Klink looked up, squinting in the eerie illumination, unsure who had addressed him. Turning, he saw Sgt. Baker standing at a short, respectful distance.

"Yes?" Klink asked.

"Sir? Can we help with the injured man?" Baker approached carefully as he spoke.

Klink was suddenly suspicious. "Why should you wish to help an enemy officer?"

"He's injured, sir," Baker said by way of explanation. "We make no distinctions with the wounded from either side." He gazed steadily at Klink. "But then, you already knew that, didn't you, sir?"

Nodding reluctantly, Klink accepted Baker's offer of help. As they were gently laying the Gestapo officer onto the stretcher that Schultz somehow managed to conjure up, Hochstetter chose this moment to come to again.

"Get your hands off me!" he yelled at no one in general and Klink in particular. Sitting up slowly, he held his hand up to the cut above his eye. "The infirmary..." he began, only to be interrupted by Klink's good-natured bedside manner.

"Yes, yes, Major...as I've said before, that is where we are taking you. Now be a good patient and lie back down so that we--"

"Klink! Shut up!" Hochstetter yelled, regaining the full use of his senses--and vocal cords. "The explosion! It came from the infirmary!" He shouted exasperatedly, and pointing in its direction, added, "Guards!"

Slapping Klink's insistent hands off him, Hochstetter stood and stumbled after the guards that were now rushing to the camp hospital. Klink turned helplessly towards Baker who ignored him, and along with Newkirk and LeBeau, ran in the same direction.

Recovering, Klink in turn hurried after them.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0225hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

The sounds of shouts, warning sirens, and heavy boots woke Kinchloe up. He was lying in a dark alcove, hidden from prying eyes by a granite outcropping that jutted out just far enough to keep him from the view of casual passersby.

"What--?" He sat up, groaning painfully. Where was he? And what happened, he wondered? More importantly, where was the colonel? Checking his watch, Kinchloe was shocked to see that a little less than half an hour had passed. The colonel must have tucked him safely away while he continued with the mission. Closing his eyes against the pounding in his head, Kinchloe placed his hands gingerly against the granite wall and slowly stood.

Taking a brief moment to regain his equilibrium, Kinchloe listened for any approaching footsteps on the other side of the protruding rock. Nothing. Taking a chance, he peeked around it and was surprised to find out that he was less than a hundred feet from the rocket launch bay.

"Swell," he muttered. At least, he didn't have far to go now. At the pounding sounds of approaching boots, Kinchloe ducked back behind the outcrop. "On second thought..." He immediately saw that they were hurrying towards the launch bay doors. Taking a deep breath, Kinchloe straightened his tunic and brought the helmet low over his eyes. Waiting for the column of soldiers to pass him by in a quick, but orderly pace, the black American stepped out of hiding and tagged onto the tail end of the formation.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0225hrs local

Outside the Camp Infirmary, LuftStalag 13

****

"Kommandant," Baker said quietly. "I protest. Maj. Hochstetter is making no move to arrest any possible escapees. He's set to shoot to kill. I remind the colonel that that's in direct violation of the Geneva Convention."

"And what exactly would you have me do, Sergeant?" Klink asked. "If there are prisoners in there attempting to escape, then Maj. Hochstetter is well within rights to shoot to kill."

"What if I were to go in and talk to them, sir?" Baker asked. This was not going the way they'd planned it. "Wouldn't it better for your record, sir, if the escape attempt were stopped with no loss of life?"

Klink looked thoughtful at this, but then suspiciously asked, "And just why are you so anxious to help us stop this escape, Sgt Baker? You were not planning on joining them, were you?"

"No, of course not, sir," Baker said. "I just don't want to see any of my buddies get shot or killed. Please, sir...I give you my word of honor. No tricks."

Nodding, Klink called. "Maj. Hochstetter! A moment, please...!" He waved in an ineffectual attempt to catch Hochstetter's attention. Rolling his eyes, Baker and Newkirk ran towards Hochstetter and 'accidentally' slammed into him.

"Oh, uh, excuse us, Maj. Hochstetter," Newkirk said needlessly loud. Unknown to Hochstetter, he'd just relieved him of his sidearm--just in case.

"Yes, sir," Baker broke in. "We'd like to help. Please...I know that we can stop this escape attempt if you just give us a chance."

"I've no intention to stopping the escape attempt," Hochstetter growled. "Except to shoot anyone who tries to escape from the infirmary."

"Sir...we can stop this," Baker insisted. "Please. There's no need to shoot anyone!"

"Get this man out of here!" Hochstetter demanded. "Why don't prisoners in this godforsaken Stalag ever act like prisoners?"

"Oh, but Major," Klink simpered. "I think you should listen to this young sergeant. What he says makes a lot of sense. Better to stop the escape with no loss of life, than to kill several prisoners while attempting to escape!"

"Klink, what you think is of no importance to me," Hochstetter began and reaching for his holster, mimed a fast draw. He now stood, pointing his finger directly between Klink's eyes. "But if you insist on getting in my way--?" he stopped. Where was his Luger?

"My weapon! What happened to my weapon?" he shouted, while searching the ground immediately around him. Simultaneously, Klink, Shultz, and the other guards helpfully followed suit.

"Hello the infirmary!" Baker shouted. "This is Sgt. Baker! For your own good, come out with your hands up! Surrender peacefully, guys, so that we can avoid any bloodshed."

"How do we know ol' Blood and Guts Klink won't shoot to kill?" a voice protested from inside.

"Sgt. Baker!" Hochstetter shouted, "I gave you no such permission to order your men to surrender--!"

"Did you hear that?" Another voice echoed. "Hochstetter isn't interested in letting us surrender! And what about the Kommandant? He might say he'll be lenient, but how can we trust him?"

"Yeah! You know how he is about his record of no escapes!" the first voice agreed. "And the cemetery's full of guys who trusted the Gestapo!"

"Sergeant--!" Hochstetter insisted.

"Sir!" Baker spoke rapidly. "Sir, just think about it! You came here because you lost a large contingent of escaped British POWs. Right?"

"That is correct," Schultz answered helpfully.

"Schultz!" Hochstetter and Klink yelled together. "Shut up!"

"Well, sir...if you stop a second escape attempt in the same night, just think of how that will look in your favor?"

"Sgt. Baker," Klink began, "that is the most ridiculous thing that I've ever heard--!"

"And if the big brass in Berlin is anything at all like the one back home, sir...Well, they tend to remember the last thing you've done, don't they? Good or bad?"

"Schultz!" Klink shouted. "Return these men to the prisoner formation--!"

"Yes..." Hochstetter said thoughtfully. "They do, don't they?" He suddenly grinned at Baker, the act itself sending chills down the American's back. "I like that, Sgt. Baker." Then turning to Klink, he shouted, "Klink! Dumkopf! What are you waiting for? Give these men the necessary terms to effect an immediate surrender!"

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0230hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

The patrol double-timed in step. Kinchloe maintained a proper 33-inch distance from the soldiers immediately in front of him, keeping his head slightly turned down. He held his breath and didn't let it out again until he'd stepped through the gigantic double doors. As the doors slammed shut behind him, Kinchloe looked around for a good place to drop out of the formation and start looking for Hogan.

As they rounded a corner, Kinchloe stepped back and faded into the shadows, pausing for a moment to get his bearings. Directly before him--sleek, straight, and beautiful--stood not one, but two V2 rockets. From the amount of activity he could detect below him in the launch bay, Kinchloe had a feeling that the rockets were already primed and ready to be fired.

"This is not good," he muttered. Somehow he and Hogan had to stop them from launching, but how? The place was a beehive! People were running everywhere in every direction. A warning klaxon suddenly sounded, and a calm voice came over the PA system.

"~Achtung! Achtung! We are at T-minus 30 minutes and counting. All nonessential personnel should begin clearing launch bay area. Repeat... All nonessential personnel should begin clearing launch bay area.~"

Soon the lower launch bay began emptying of personnel. There followed a loud metallic clang that reverberated across the vast chamber. To Kinchloe's surprise, the whole chamber appeared to start moving. Overhead, stars began to appear, and he determined that it wasn't the chamber moving, but rather the roof opening instead.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0230hrs local

Outside the Camp Infirmary, LuftStalag 13

****

"And if you peacefully surrender in the next five minutes," Klink was saying, his voice amplified by a bullhorn, "I promise that each of you will receive an extra slice of white bread during meals--"

"Klink!" Hochstetter yelled impatiently. "What are you doing?!!"

"I am attempting to negotiate for a peaceful surrender--" Klink attempted to explain.

"Give me that--!" Hochstetter growled, snatching the bullhorn from Klink's hands. "White bread..." he muttered. "Attention the infirmary!" he shouted. Klink jumped at the sound of Hochstetter's voice. "I'm giving you five minutes to surrender peacefully. If you don't, I'm ordering the guards to open fire!"

Turning to Klink, the Gestapo major threw the bullhorn back at him. "There! That is how the Gestapo negotiates!"

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0230hrs local

Outside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

His charges set, Carter ran across the main compound, staying among the shadows. He checked his watch. If only he could be certain about the timers and the fuses. Worried, he wondered how Hogan and Kinchloe were faring inside the underground complex.

The pounding sounds of fast approaching boots forced him to search for a hiding place. At the last possible second, he dove behind a low-lying sign that warned of a deadly back blast area. Rolling himself into a tight ball, Carter held his breath and waited. As he did, he heard another sound, a deep rumbling, almost a groaning, that pierced his eardrums.

Instantly, Carter had his hands over his ears, trying to block out the painful din. All around him, the warning klaxons went off, their high-pitched wails providing an additional cacophony to shatter the night. After several minutes of clamor, the deep rumbling finally ceased, and a few minutes after that the sirens died out as well.

By now, several patrols had passed by his hiding place. Carter wondered at his dumb luck at not having been discovered. The sign he was hiding behind was barely four feet by three feet with at least two feet of clearance at the bottom. Even the least sharp-eyed sentry should have been able to spot him with little effort. However, the patrols double-timed past him, intent on their destination.

He wondered what could possibly have held their attention so fully that they had missed him, hiding practically out in the open. At this moment, a faint glint in the dim starlight caught his eye, and he gasped at the wonder and beauty of it--the twin rockets! Wide-eyed, Carter took a moment to admire their elegance, amazed at the sheer power they represented.

Blinking suddenly, Carter remembered why he was here and just what the power behind these engineering marvels represented, death and destruction for the City of Paris. His jaw jutting out in sudden determination, Carter began thinking of what else he could do to help their mission.

He remembered how he'd effected their previous getaway, and waiting for another patrol to go by, he began searching for a vehicle. 

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0250hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

Hogan crouched, hidden behind a heavy forklift. He could feel time running out, but hadn't had a chance to place the charges yet. Too many people. Too much activity. And yet, if he didn't do something soon, it would be the same as condemning thousands of Parisians to death.

He wiped his forehead with his upper sleeve, tense from worry. He checked his watch yet again. As he did, the launch control announced over the intercom, "~T-minus 20 minutes and holding...Repeat...T-minus 20 minutes and holding!~"

Hogan felt a sudden surge of relief. He didn't care about the whys or wherefores, all he knew was that the launch had been temporarily halted. Unfortunately, at the announcement there was a sudden influx of activity. If the operation within the bay had been at the beehive-level before, it had now surpassed it to that of a hornet's nest.

Okay, Colonel...time to earn all of that back pay you've got coming after the war. Taking a deep breath he released the safety on his weapon and replaced it in the holster. Standing and straightening his tunic, he stepped boldly out into the middle of the launch bay.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0250hrs local

Outside the Camp Infirmary, LuftStalag 13

****

The sounds of gunfire and explosions outside the compound startled everybody, galvanizing them into action.

"Guards! Schultz!" Klink shouted, turning completely around in his confusion over the unexpected attack. The next instant, Schultz slammed into him, and Klink went tumbling over backwards. The portly sergeant's face reflected his own confusion and almost paralyzed fear. It was all he could do to hold onto his rifle.

"Herr Kommandant!" he called out apologetically. "I am so sorry!"

"Klink! We are under attack!" Hochstetter screamed. "Do something, Dumkopf!"

"Guards...!" Klink yelled, scrambling to his feet and forgetting he still held the bullhorn. "To your defensive perimeters! Mach schnell!" Of course, his voice didn't carry over the pandemonium that had overtaken the camp. In disgust, Hochstetter again yanked the bullhorn from the bemused Klink's hands, and running towards the front gates, began shouting orders.

In all the commotion, Baker took the opportunity to sneak Olsen and Foster, the two POWs who'd been hiding in the infirmary, back to the mass prisoner formation. The two soldiers had volunteered to enter the infirmary from the old tunnel branch that Hogan and Kinchloe reopened just that previous night.

Baker recalled the looks that the other prisoners gave him earlier when he'd related his plan to them. He couldn't blamed them for thinking he'd lost his mind, but given the circumstances, what other choice did they have...?

****

Earlier...

"I need two volunteers to 'escape' through the infirmary tunnel," Baker said. Foster and Olsen immediately raised their hands. Baker shook his head. "Don't you clowns even want to know the plan before you volunteer?"

"Uh-uh, Sarge...all that planning and stuff. That's your department," Olsen said with a shrug.

"Yeah, Baker," Foster agreed nodding. "We're just a coupla privates. We do what we're told and let the officers and sergeants do the worrying."

Of course, as he'd told them his plan, the two men's expressions didn't seem quite so lackadaisical. Nonetheless, they'd still agreed to the mission, knowing that the tunnel would be caved-in behind them, effectively trapping them in the infirmary.

Lt. Whittington's commandos quickly rigged the tunnel with some leftover dynamite--just enough to collapse it in on itself. Baker had to hand it to Olsen and Foster. They'd known that their 'escape' could end up being a one-way suicide mission, but they didn't back down.

He'd been proud of their response and told them so, but they'd scoffed at the possibility of danger to themselves.

"No problem, Sarge!" Foster declared.

"Yeah...Piece o' cake!" Olsen added, echoing Hogan.

****

Now, Baker could only cross his fingers and pray. He thought of Whittington's men who'd volunteered to go outside the compound to set off the additional diversionary explosions and small arms fire. Their job was to lead the camp guards on a merry chase for a few hours, long enough to give Hogan and his team a chance to return before daybreak.

So far his plan to cause chaos was working, but the next few hours would prove to be the longest of his young life.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0315hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

Kinchloe skulked along the shadows, keeping a sharp eye out for Hogan. As he dodged from one hiding place to another, he advanced ever closer to the rockets. When they'd announced a hold on the launch, he'd almost collapsed from relief.

Thank God...He'd closed his eyes in real gratitude. Now, he held onto his canvas carryall and made his way towards the two lovely targets that beckoned him. Soon, he was standing less than 20 feet from them. Staying low against the far wall, he finally spotted Hogan working on the first V2.

Hurriedly, Kinchloe moved to Hogan's side and tapped him on the shoulder, startling him. Using hand signals, he mimed that he would take care of the second V2. Hogan shook his head, pointing at the rocket's ramjets. Squinting slightly, Kinchloe saw what Hogan had indicated--dynamite charges!

Kinchloe felt a hand slap him warmly on the shoulder. He turned to Hogan who was grinning widely.

"Let's go, buddy," Hogan said with a grin. "We're done here."

Kinchloe nodded, returning Hogan's grin and giving him a 'thumb's up.' Together the two men made their way back to the exit, and soon found themselves safely outside.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0315hrs local

Forest outside, LuftStalag 13

****

His body hunched over at a low crouch, Klink tiptoed slowly, carefully through the woods. With great care, he picked up his left foot, and then softly placed it down again on the ground before him, toe first then heel. He repeated the entire performance with his right foot.

Immediately behind Klink, mirroring his every move, from the low crouch to lifting and placing each foot down with painstaking care, followed a wide-eyed Schultz. As he moved stealthily forward, trying to keep his teeth from chattering, Schultz looked quickly left and right, his heart jumping at each shadow.

The tree branches all around swayed slightly as the wind picked up. Schultz gasped at the sudden movement and stumbled, falling into Klink. They both went down in a heap.

"Shultz!" Klink hissed, beside himself in annoyance. "Dumkopf! Get off me!"

Schultz awkwardly scrambled to his feet. Turning to help Klink up, he apologized profusely. "I-I am so sorry, Herr Kommandant--" he stuttered. The sound of a twig snapping nearby sent them both diving for cover.

"Shh-shhh! Quiet!" Klink ordered, nervously. Schultz continued trying to burrow himself further underneath Klink's uniform jacket. Klink slapped him several times in annoyed frustration. "What are you doing, you coward? You should be on the lookout for escaped prisoners!"

"B-But, Herr Kommandant...what if I find one--?" Schultz asked fearfully.

"What do mean by that, you idiot?" Klink retorted. "You capture them, of course!"

"But they are armed..." Schultz whimpered.

Klink rolled his eyes, and slapping Schultz on the helmet, jerked his head in the direction they'd heard the sound. "Let's go. We are not done here," he whispered, scowling.

****

Immediately above them, blending in with the thick foliage, Whittington crouched silently on a strong branch. Looking a few yards further on, he spotted and signaled Sgt. Ripley. His sergeant was sitting on the branch of another tree a few yards to Whittington's left. Similarly, without having to actually see them, Whittington knew that two more his soldiers were hiding among the trees further on.

The four British commandos had produced the noisy diversion of a few minutes ago. Now, all they had to do was wait for the first opportunity to return safely to the tunnel. With luck, the guards would concentrate their search for escaped prisoners on the ground, and not on the trees. He recalled Baker's instructions...

****

"...Your job will be to produce a diversion, then hide in the trees until things cool down. As soon as they do, return to base."

"But what if something goes wrong?" Whittington had asked. "The dogs could lead them straight to us--" He stopped, looking bemused as the others burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"Sorry, Lieutenant," Baker apologized. "We forgot you guys are visitors here. Don't worry about the guard dogs. They're on our side--"

"Sgt. Baker is correct," LeBeau chimed in. "They hate the lousy Bosche!"

"That's right," Baker agreed. "The dogs'll lead the guards farther and farther away from the four designated trees until it's safe for you to come down." At Whittington's look of utter disbelief, Baker smiled. "They've done it before, sir."

"They haven't failed us yet, Leftenant," Newkirk added. At their sincere expressions, Whittington finally nodded.

"Very well, Sergeant," he'd said with a nod. "One diversion coming up!"

****

Smiling, Whittington looked directly down on Klink and Schultz, who were still crouched in mortal terror.

Listening to Klink as he ranted in a low whisper at his portly sergeant of the guard, Whittington's smile widened.

"Schultz...you are an idiot! And a coward! And when this night is over, I will throw you in the cooler along with the rest of the escaped prisoners! No! I will see you on the first train to the Russian Front!"

"But Herr Kommandant, if we do not find the escaped prisoners, we will all be sent to the Russian Front." Schultz's expression was gently reproachful as he gave this reminder. Klink's eyes widened.

"The Russian Front--!" he repeated, the truth of Schultz's statement sinking in. Both he and Schultz fell back weakly against the tree trunk behind them. "But I was such a brilliant Kommandant..."

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0330hrs local

Outside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility

****

"Col. Hogan! Kinch!" They both turned at the sound of Carter's voice. "Over here, guys!"

Hogan and Kinchloe quickly changed directions and headed towards him. Spotting a half-track, Hogan gave Kinchloe an mischievous grin. Kinchloe nodded in recognition. It was the same make of vehicle that Carter had hot-wired on their previous mission. A moment later, Carter's head popped up, and he gave them a happy wave. The next second, he ducked below sight again.

The two Americans sprinted towards the half-track, which was idling in place, ready to leave. Hogan glanced at his watch. If the timers worked, then they had--he mentally counted down--three, two, one--

Several powerful explosions suddenly rocked the compound!

The fuel depot went up in a fiery detonation. The blast knocked them both off their feet. Rolling with the aftershocks, they looked up and saw that the half-track was now heading towards them. Recovering, they ran at full speed and simultaneously grabbed the sides of the vehicle and jumped onboard.

As the half-track started across the large camouflaged parking area, the three men felt the compound erupt again and again in multiple explosions all around them.

"You've been busy!" Hogan shouted at Carter. Carter flashed him an excited grin in return. Hogan glanced at his watch, and then at Kinchloe. As one they turned to look at the rockets. They could make them out clearly by the light of the many fires that had broken out all over the area.

Luckily, the troops running around the quadrangle mistook their getaway vehicle for one of their own and quickly made way for them. Realizing that they were about to make a clean escape, Hogan and Kinchloe flashed wide grins at each other.

"Look!" Kinchloe suddenly shouted.

Hogan stared where Kinchloe was pointing. Then he saw it--the domed roof was once again closing over the V2s. And still no explosion from below ground. He glanced at his watch again.

"Kinch!" he yelled. "It's taking too long! The homemade fuses...they must've all been bad! I'm going back. I can't let those--" He pointed at the needlepoint noses of the rockets, which were slowly disappearing beneath their protective roof. "--those things destroy Paris!"

"You can't go back there, Colonel!" Kinchloe protested. "It'd be suicide!"

"Sorry, Kinch!" Hogan said with finality. "My mind's made up!" He turned to Carter. "Carter! Pull this thing over!" He pointed towards a spot on the side of the road. "I'm getting off!" He grabbed his weapon and checked it. His eyes intent on what he was doing, Hogan addressed Kinchloe.

"Kinch, I need whatever extra ammo you've got. No telling how many Krauts I'll come across--"

"No--!" Kinchloe shouted. "You can't--! I won't let you--!" Both Hogan and Carter stared at him in shock. Closing his eyes, Kinchloe fought to get his emotions under control.

"Sgt. Kinchloe," Hogan rasped out. "I gave you direct order! Your extra ammo--! Hand. It. Over!" Hogan held his hand out for emphasis.

"Colonel...I'm sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect, but--" Kinchloe stopped, choking on his words, his eyes filling with pain. "Sir...it's suicide."

"Kinch..." Hogan's eyes softened. Looking away in sudden embarrassment, he thumped Kinchloe lightly on the shoulder. "It has to be done, buddy...I think you know that."

His eyes suddenly lighting with their normally impish glint, Hogan turned and faced him. "Besides, like I always say, 'Piece o' cake'!" Slowly, reluctantly, Kinchloe nodded.

"'Piece o' cake'..." he murmured. Clearing his throat, he straightened to his full height. "You're right, Colonel. It has to be done." Turning slightly away, Kinchloe patted his pockets, and pulled out two extra ammo magazines. Smiling, he handed them to Hogan. As his CO's fingers closed about the magazines, Kinchloe deliberately dropped them.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir--" he said, bending as if to pick them up.

"That's okay, Kinch. I've got them--" Hogan began. Before he could complete his sentence, Kinchloe whipped around with lightning speed and punched him on the chin. Hogan went down without a sound. Quickly, the former middleweight boxer helped his friend and commanding officer to a comfortable position, grimacing at the sharp pain in his knuckles...and his soul.

"Kinch...!?" Carter hissed, too shocked to react. "What did you do--?"

However, Kinchloe wasn't paying attention. Instead, he checked his weapon and then searched Hogan's pockets, relieving the unconscious officer of any extra ammo.

"Sorry, sir," he murmured. "But a direct order is a direct order."

"Kinch...! What're you doing--?"

"Carter, I don't have time to explain." Kinchloe spoke rapidly. "Take the colonel to the rendezvous point. When he wakes, tell him that I was just obeying orders." He smiled to himself, Hogan's words ringing clearly in his head...

****

"...Who's the idiot who thought up this little suicide mission, anyway?"

"You, sir."

"Oh...well, next time, do me a favor, huh? Just give me a good right cross to the chin."

"It's a promise, sir."

****

"...And keeping a promise to a friend."

"Huh?" Carter's confusion was apparent on his face. "Kinch, you can't--!"

"Go! That's a direct order, Sgt. Carter! Do you understand?"

Struggling to maintain his composure, the younger sergeant nodded and stood. Facing Kinchloe, he slowly brought his hand up in mute salute. Surprised by Carter's tribute, Kinchloe solemnly returned the salute. With a curt nod, he turned to leave. Pausing, he spoke over his shoulder.

"And Carter...promise me you'll take care of him." Without another word, Kinchloe vaulted off the half-track.

As Kinch disappeared into the darkness, Carter whispered raggedly, "I promise..." Quickly wiping his eyes, he put the vehicle in gear and began the long, torturous trip to the rendezvous point.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0345hrs local

Main Compound, LuftStalag 13

****

As the night progressed, the population of Stalag 13 was rapidly decreasing. Only it wasn't the prisoners who were escaping, but rather the guards who were disappearing. Three patrols that had been sent out to search the woods outside of the camp had seemingly disappeared. Or at least, they were long overdue.

"Where are the patrols, Klink!?" Hochstetter screamed. "How can three patrols disappear?"

Baker looked at Newkirk and shrugged. By now, the dogs had probably led the errant guards five kilometers out of their way--in the wrong direction. It should be relatively safe for Whittington and his men to return to base, Baker thought.

Grinning suddenly, Newkirk called out, "Maybe the woods are haunted, Kommandant!"

"Oui, mon Kommandant," LeBeau agreed. "There is no moon tonight...It is said that the spirits of the dead haunt the woods on moonless nights!"

"Spirits--?" Schultz whimpered, looking around fearfully. He sidled closer to Klink. Hochstetter glared suspiciously at the two Allied prisoners.

"What do you know about the patrols disappearing?" he growled. Newkirk and LeBeau both shrugged innocently.

"How could we know anything?" Newkirk asked blandly. "We've been standing out here in formation during this time."

"Maybe the patrols became lost in the dark?" LeBeau offered.

"Yeah...Me friend, Cpl. LeBeau here is probably right, Kommandant," Newkirk agreed. "We all know that your guards couldn't find their way out of a paper bag even with ruddy bread crumbs to mark the way!" His comment was met with raucous laughter from the POW ranks.

"Silence!" Klink and Hochstetter yelled simultaneously. "Schultz! I want all these prisoners returned to barracks for immediate lockdown!"

"Jahwohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz said, saluting crisply. Executing an about face, he addressed the prisoners. "All prisoners--! Return to barracks!" As he said these words, he began waving them back to the barracks with small hand gestures, accompanied by a strange, clucking sound. "Baaackk...backbackbackback..." 

As the POWs turned with a show of reluctance towards their respective barracks, they playfully echoed all around him, "Backbackbackbackbackbackback..."

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0345hrs local

Bavaria-Bad Wurttemberg Forest east of Mutlangen 

****

As soon as Carter turned off the ignition, he found himself surrounded.

"~Out of the vehicle!~" a harsh voice in the dark ordered. Carter didn't understand sufficient German to know exactly what had been said, but he understood the tone well enough. And the weapon next to his temple offered just the right amount of incentive.

Nodding, he raised his hands above his head and jumped out. He was quickly hustled against the vehicle and summarily searched. Movement behind him caught his eye. He turned in time to see them dragging Hogan from the half-track. The still unconscious officer offered no resistance.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing--?!" Carter protested. He made a move to go to Hogan's aid, but was instantly grabbed from behind. "You can see he's hurt!" Carter looked around at the impassive faces around him. For the first time, he realized that he didn't recognize any of them.

"Wh-Who are you fellas?" he asked. When no one answered, he tried another tack. "M-my friend and me...we were just, um, passing through. I don't suppose you could, um, give us directions to, um, Berchtesgaden? See...we're on furlough and neither of us has ever seen the Eagle's Nest--!"

"Enough!" One of the men made a slashing motion with his hand. "Take them," he snapped. The others quickly began dragging and shoving Carter deeper into the woods.

"Hey, wait!" Carter cried. "My friend! You can't just leave him there!"

"Do not worry," a cold voice growled. "I assure you, your friend will be well taken care of."

Glancing back, Carter saw that Hogan, who'd been lying on the ground in an unceremonious heap, was being carried between two men--in the opposite direction!

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0345hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility 

****

So far so good, Kinchloe thought looking around. He'd made it safely back into the facility the same way as before--through the coal bin trapdoor. He'd raced through the furnace room, removing most of the explosives he and Hogan had placed there, and quickly stuffed them inside his uniform jacket. Maybe the fuses weren't any good, but there was nothing wrong with the dynamite.

And I sure need all the dynamite I can get my hands on, he thought fervently.

The only thing that mattered now was destroying the rockets. He didn't have time for any of the secondary targets. However, as he was about to bypass the generator room, he paused reluctantly. They'd planted enough dynamite there to send the whole place into orbit.

However, because the rockets were located inside the launch bay and protected from the rest of the facility by the huge blast doors, which were constructed of heavily reinforced titanium steel, it was just possible that even if he totally obliterated the generator room, the resulting tumultuous explosions would be safely contained outside the launch bay. Thus, the rockets could escape destruction.

No, if Kinchloe were to ensure the destruction of the rockets, he'd have do so from inside the launch bay itself. However, he still had the same problem of the blast doors. Any explosion from inside the launch bay would be safely contained within. In other words, he might succeed in destroying the rockets, but the complex would be left practically intact, which meant the threat would not be completely neutralized.

Still, it should set the Krauts back temporarily, he told himself, only to shake his head. No! If I don't blow the whole thing, then sooner or later Hogan and the others will have to come back and finish the job.

"And everything will have been for nothing," he muttered. Making up his mind, Kinchloe ducked inside the generator room. As before, he clung to the shadows, freezing in place each time he heard someone approaching. His heart hammering in his chest, the electronics genius was formulating a plan even as he made his way towards the nearest turbine.

If he could only make use of the electricity that the turbines were generating and somehow use that to set off the electronic detonators. Grinning suddenly, he ducked behind one of the hundreds of pipes that rose from the concrete floor. These pipes, he knew, transported at high pressure the steam produced by the furnace room.

No, I don't need to make use of the electricity being generated, he corrected, but of the steam that powers the generators.  

Searching among the pipes, Kinchloe quickly spotted the steam control valve. Unfortunately, it was in full view of the entire bay, and the last time he'd looked in the mirror, he hadn't looked like he could pass himself off as a German.

Still, it was too late to worry about inconvenient details like that. Swallowing, Kinchloe took a deep breath and got his nerves under some semblance of control. Shoving his helmet low over his eyes, he stepped out into the open.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0400hrs local

Bavaria-Bad Wurttemberg Forest east of Mutlangen 

****

Carter sat on the pine needle covered forest floor, his back against a tree. His hands were tied behind his back and his legs were also bound tightly around the ankles. He was trying desperately not to worry about Hogan...or Kinchloe. At the thought of Kinchloe, he remembered his promise to take care of the colonel. Feeling suddenly ashamed, he realized that he didn't know where they'd taken him. Watching his captors closely, he noticed that one kept checking his watch.

"Y'know, fellas, you don't have to stand around and wait with me. If you have somewhere else you've gotta be, I'll be okay...Honest!"

The men ignored him. The one who'd been looking at his watch spoke to the others in rapid German. Unable to understand the words, Carter watched their faces, instead. They were worried about something, he knew. But what?

And where had they taken the colonel, he wondered silently. Then, afraid he already knew the answer added, "And what about Kinch...?"

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0400hrs local

Barracks #2, LuftStalag 13

****

"Hey, Sarge...can we come out now?"

"For the third time, Barkley," Baker intoned tiredly. "No! You can't come out until we know the colonel's on his way back. Got it?!"

"But, Sarge! It's crowded down here! Twenty of our guys, and fifty Brits! We're tripping over each other!"

"Then sit down, soldier!" Baker snapped. "So you don't trip over anybody! Back down in the tunnel, Barkley! And if you rear your ugly head again without permission, I'll see you court-martialed when the colonel gets back!"

"Court-martial?" Newkirk asked. "Why waste the colonel's time? LeBeau and me can take care of the likes of 'im!"

"Oui, mon ami," LeBeau agreed. "We French know how to take care of complainers and collaborators--" He made a quick slashing motion across his neck. "Just give the word, Sgt. Baker."

"No-no, Sarge!" Barkley said quickly, beating a hasty retreat back into the tunnel. "I'm going...see?" The others exchanged mutual looks of disgust as the trapdoor closed over his head.

"Like LeBeau said...Just give the word, Sergeant. We'll take care of him." As he spoke, Newkirk gave Baker a long meaningful look while surreptitiously pulling a knife halfway out of his left boot. Glancing down at the knife, Baker felt a sudden chill in the pit of his stomach.

"I'll let you know, Corporal," he said noncommittally. Standing, he gave Newkirk and LeBeau a wordless half-salute/half-wave, and then climbed into the tunnel to wait by the radio.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0400hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility 

****

Kinchloe again hid in the shadows. He'd made it back to his hiding place none too soon and nervously wiped his brow. How the Germans could be so careless of intruders when there had been explosions reported from topside was beyond him, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. Glancing at the pressure indicator needle on the steam control panel, he saw that it had definitely risen a few points.

He nodded in satisfaction. The pressure wasn't building so fast that the Krauts would notice it immediately. But it was rising and would reach the red zone in another fifteen minutes or so.

So, it's time for Mrs. Kinchloe's favorite little boy to play hero, he thought ironically. Moving carefully, he quickly reached the exit, and checking first to make sure the coast was clear, started for the blast doors. He'd made it halfway there when his luck ran out.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0410hrs local

Bavaria-Bad Wurttemberg Forest east of Mutlangen 

****

A vehicle approaching from the west alerted them. Instantly, Carter was gagged, dragged and dumped roughly inside the thick brush. One of his captors remained with him, holding a wicked-looking Schmeisser against his temple. Carter got the message and lay absolutely still, almost too afraid to breathe.

"Bitte...?" A soft feminine voice called. "Haben sie eine Alpenrose?"

Carter's eyes widened. Alpenrose! That was the name of the drugstore that Rose White had taken them to. He felt the man next to him slowly relax, and moments later the weapon was removed from his temple. Shortly, Carter found himself again being dragged bodily against his will.

"Hey, come on, fellas! If you want a guy to go somewhere, just tell me! I can walk on my own--!"

"We are sorry for our late arrival, Sgt. Carter," Rose White said softly, stepping out into the clearing. Her father and several of his men quickly followed her. "I'm afraid that we were unexpectedly delayed by roadblocks."

"Yes, we had to take several detours," Herr Weiss explained. "We heard explosions from the rocket base. Were you successful?" Looking around, he added worriedly, "Where's Col. Hogan? Sgt. Kinchloe?"

"They took the colonel!" Carter said sharply, pointing at his captors with his chin because his hands were still tied behind him. "And they won't tell me where!"

Weiss spoke rapidly to one of Carter's captors. Instantly, Carter was untied, and a few moments later, Hogan was dragged before them--wide-awake and dark eyes blazing in anger.

"Col. Hogan!" Carter ran to his side, relieved that his CO had regained consciousness. "Sir, are you all right?" He noticed a definite discoloration forming where Kinchloe had struck him. Hogan ignored his question and instead pinned him in place with a glare.

"Where's Kinch?" he asked. Standing mutely, Carter looked down, unable to hold Hogan's gaze. The others exchanged quick glances. "Where!?" Hogan shouted, grabbing Carter by the shirtfront. Overcome with rage, Hogan shook the younger man, but Carter still refused to look up.

"Tell me you didn't leave him back there!" Hogan demanded, forcing Carter to look at him. "Tell me, damn you!"

"Col. Hogan!" Rose White gasped.

"Kinch...Kinch said to tell you," Carter choked. "That...he was only obeying orders. That...he was keeping a-a promise...to a friend." As Carter's words sank in, Hogan's eyes grew wide and he felt his entire body go numb.

"A promise to a friend...?" he repeated, slowly shaking his head. As he did so, his words came back to him...

"...Next time, do me a favor, huh? Just give me a good right cross to the chin."

"It's a promise, sir..."

"No," he whispered. Then, louder, angrier shouted, "No-ooo-oo!" Looking around in desperation, he spotted a vehicle hidden among the heavy foliage and ran towards it. "I'm going back for him!"

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0410hrs local

Inside the Mutlangen Rocket Facility 

****

"~Halt!~"

"~Drop your weapon!~"

Kinchloe ignored the shouted warnings and sprinted the final yards to the blast doors. Reaching the personnel entrance, he yanked the smaller door open just as the guards behind him opened fire.

He dove inside and behind the titanium steel doors as several bullets flew directly overhead. Several more shouts around him told him that he'd already been discovered. Not taking the time to catch his breath, Kinchloe ran at top speed across the open launch bay. As he did so, he automatically began zigzagging in a well-practiced pattern from his high school days as a running back.

Once he fell into the old routine, his moves became automatic. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. An enemy soldier appeared before him, shouting German epithets, aiming his weapon pointblank at him. Without hesitation, Kinchloe strong-armed him out of the way, and just like in the old days, the soldier fell back.

As the enemy soldier went down, Kinchloe spun in place and changed direction. Another soldier, who'd launched himself at the American, was caught off-guard by Kinchloe's unexpected move and flew ineffectually towards the spot that Kinchloe had just vacated.

The rockets were less than twenty yards away. Out of the corner of his eye, Kinchloe saw yet another defender diving towards him. Without breaking stride, Kinchloe leaped up and over him, landing at a run.

There was a sudden roar in his ears that sounded like an approaching train. And another. And another. Unable to place the sound, he was startled when a huge hand seemed to suddenly slam into him, spinning him around several times. Just as the world stopped reeling, he felt the same hand slam into him again. And again.

Time suddenly resumed its normal pace. With it, Kinchloe could clearly hear the sounds of semi-automatic fire from all over the launch bay. Several bullets hit the concrete floor immediately in front of him, ricocheting crazily.

"Lousy shots..." he muttered. "Couldn't hit...the side of a barn." Funny, why did he feel so lightheaded? And his legs, why couldn't he move his legs? He looked down. That's funny...why was he on his knees?

A strange, peaceful sensation washed over him, and Kinchloe felt a strong urge to lie down and go to sleep. Considering the problem as if it were a deep philosophical puzzle that required solving, he shook his head.

"No..." he muttered. "Can't sleep...Got promises to keep..." As he spoke, he awkwardly dug out the dynamite bundle from his uniform jacket.

"~Look out! He has dynamite!~" The shout brought added panic to the open bay as civilians and soldiers alike dove for cover.

"And miles to go..."

"~Shoot him!~"

Milliseconds before the launch bay suddenly exploded with the staccato burst of semi-automatic gunfire, Kinchloe drew back and threw the dynamite at the nearest V2 rocket.

"...Before I sleep..."

As the soldiers all around him opened fire, Kinchloe fell forward, struck from all sides. The roaring sounds of the approaching train echoed in his ears as he struggled to remain conscious.

What was it the colonel wanted me to do?

He shivered suddenly, feeling cold all over. He felt something hard in his hand. Blinking his eyes to clear his blurring vision, he concentrated on what he was holding. How did the Luger get there? He didn't even remember removing it from his holster.

Promises to keep...an inner voice reminded him. Miles to go...

His vision clearing, he suddenly saw it--the dynamite. It was resting about ten meters in front of him against one of the rocket's fins. A German soldier suddenly walked into his field of vision, and Kinchloe saw him bend down to carefully reach for the explosives.

At that moment, the pressure that had been steadily building within the steam pipes reached critical mass and blew. The resulting shockwave caused the explosives that had already been set in the generator room to go off in a series of sympathetic explosions, which could be felt all the way inside the launch bay.

Smiling to himself, Kinchloe aimed the Luger at the bundle of dynamite...Before I sleep...and squeezed the trigger.

The world went white, then black...

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0415hrs local

Bavaria-Bad Wurttemberg Forest east of Mutlangen 

****

Before Hogan could reach the vehicle, the others tackled him to the ground. He fought them all with a sudden ferocity. "Let me go! I'm going back for him!"

"Col. Hogan!" Weiss shouted. "Please...you cannot! There are dozens of roadblocks between here and Mutlangen. We must all evacuate this area--!"

"No!" Hogan shouted, still trying to fend off Weiss' men. "I won't leave without my friend!" For emphasis, he punched the nearest partisan in the midsection, then whipped around and chopped down on the back of the neck of another. As the partisan collapsed to the ground, Hogan took his weapon.

Breathing raggedly, Hogan glared at the others. "I'm going back...Don't try to stop me."

"Col. Hogan, please--!" Rose White pleaded.

"Sir, I'll go with you," Carter called.

"Negative! It's too dangerous. Report back to base...Tell 'em we'll be there shortly--!"

There was a sudden red-white flash, as if the night had been suddenly turned to day. Simultaneously, they were all sent sprawling to the ground as the entire area shook violently with a series of massive explosions.

And in the distance, the horizon glowed with the beauty of a new and deadly Aurora.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0500hrs local

Forest outside of Stalag 13 

****

"Col. Hogan, we are here." Weiss spoke softly, compassionately. Hogan's lifeless eyes flickered momentarily, and he nodded. Wordlessly, he and Carter jumped off the vehicle and turned to go. At the last moment, Carter turned back and waved.

"Thank you, Herr Weiss," he said softly. "And you, too, ma'am," he added shyly, nodding at Rose White.

"You are welcome, Sgt. Carter," Rose White said sadly. "And Carter...?" He waited for her to continue. "We are all terribly sorry about Sgt. Kinchloe."

"Yes, ma'am...thank you, ma'am," Carter mumbled. Then noticing that Hogan was already disappearing into the woods, hurried after him. He'd promised Kinchloe that he'd take care of the colonel, and in his present condition he could walk into a Kraut patrol on purpose.

"Halt!"

Carter froze in place. He found himself suddenly surrounded by several armed men dressed entirely in black.

"Carter!" He turned at his name. It was Newkirk.

"Newkirk!" Carter said happily, thumping his friend on the back. "Boy, am I glad to see you!" Newkirk returned the welcome, but quickly became serious.

"How's the colonel?" he asked. Carter shook his head. They'd radioed ahead that the mission had been accomplished. One MIA--missing in action--Kinchloe, assumed dead. Newkirk nodded in understanding. "Where is he?"

Carter looked around. "He was ahead of me. He should've passed by you guys already!" He grew worried. "I don't like this, Newkirk. He's taking it pretty bad. No telling what he might do--"

"No telling what who might do what?" Startled, they all turned towards the sound of the voice, weapons drawn. Hogan stepped forward.

"I-I'm sorry, Colonel," Carter stuttered. "I-I didn't mean anything--"

"That's right, sir," Newkirk volunteered. "I'm the one who--"

"Never mind. It's not important!" Hogan's tone cut them off curtly. "What I want to know is why I was able to come up on you guys without anyone noticing? Who's in charge here? Where are your lookouts?"

"I'm in charge, sir." Stepping forward, Baker spoke up for the first time. "No excuse, sir."

Hogan glared at him for a long moment, thinking unfairly that Kinchloe would never have allowed such an egregious error. "You bet there's no excuse, Sergeant." Baker nodded without comment. Dropping the matter, Hogan asked, "What's the current status?"

"Most of the 'so-called' escaped prisoners have been 'recaptured,' sir," Baker reported. "As soon as we received your message, we began sending the 'missing' men out in twos and threes so that they'd be recaptured."

"Of course, around here, the prisoners practically had to capture the bloody Jerries in order to be caught!" Newkirk interjected. "In fact, one team reported that they came across a sleeping Kraut and had to wake him up first so that he could then 'capture' them. I tell you, sir...what's this ruddy war coming to?" He grinned, amused by the incongruity of the situation. When Hogan failed to grin in return, Newkirk cleared his throat in embarrassment, and Baker stepped in, quickly getting back to business.

"All that's left are these two men, sir, and of course you, Carter, and--" Baker stopped.

"...and Kinch," Hogan finished, his voice barely above a whisper. Baker nodded. Wordlessly, he handed Hogan and Carter their US Army uniforms. They took them and began changing.

"What about the Gestapo?" Hogan asked as he adjusted his belt. Almost clinically, he noticed that he'd had to take it in yet another notch. By the time the war ended, there wouldn't be enough left of him to bother sending home.

"Well, sir, as to our good friend, Maj. Hochstetter," Newkirk began. "Rumor has it that a little bird informed his superiors in Berlin that he 'accidentally' misplaced 50 prized prisoners. Of course, I couldn't say for sure how the boys in Berlin found out about this major faux pas, but--"

"--But you have a pretty good idea," Hogan finished for him. "Good work, Newkirk."

"Oh, don't thank me, sir," Newkirk protested. "You can ruddy well thank Sgt. Baker, here, for coming up with the idea." At this, Hogan gave Baker another long, measuring look.

"Okay, then," he said with a tired shrug. "Let's get captured."

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0600hrs local

Main Compound, Stalag 13 

****

"And because of the massive escape attempt, which resulted in the unfortunate death of one of your own men, Sgt. Kinchloe, during the tunnel cave-in under the infirmary--all privileges are suspended for thirty days!" Klink's announcement was met with jeers and hoots.

"As for the men who were involved in the escape attempt...They are hereby remanded to the cooler for--"

"Kommandant!" Startled by the interruption, Klink glared at Hogan.

"Col. Hogan, you were one of the ones who attempted to escape." Klink shook his finger in the manner of a schoolmaster. "After all these years you should know that there has never been a successful escape from--"

"--And after all these years, you should know, Kommandant, that I'm responsible for the actions of my men. Therefore, I take full responsibility for the escape attempt. I'll serve the punishment, but let them off. They were only following orders."

"Colonel--! You can't, sir!" Newkirk protested.

"We were all in on it!" LeBeau added.

"Knock it off!" Baker shouted, sounding so much like Kinchloe that the others quieted immediately.

"I'm the senior ranking POW," Hogan reminded Klink. "What happened was my responsibility...and my fault." And it's time to resign my command, he added silently. Klink didn't say anything for a long time. Finally, he brought his hand up his chin and nodded thoughtfully.

"Very well, Col. Hogan," Klink said at last. "I accept your offer. You will serve thirty days in the cooler. Your men will be confined to quarters for the same amount of time." He paused suddenly awkward. "And Col. Hogan?" Hogan looked up him with pain-dulled eyes.

"Please, accept my deepest sympathies at your most regretful loss." Surprised by Klink's sincerity, Hogan nodded in thanks. "Disssss-missed!" Klink saluted and executed an about face, returning to his office.

Without a word to his men, Hogan let Schultz escort him to the cooler.

****

Saturday 19 AUG 1944/0800hrs local

The Cooler, Stalag 13 

****

Hogan leaned against the cell bars, staring emptily into space. Since the explosions from the rocket base, he'd been little more than an automaton, devoid of any real feelings. Just an overwhelming blackness...

"Kinch...why?" he whispered.

"This might answer that." Hogan whirled suddenly. Baker's young, serious face was looking up at him from the tunnel trapdoor. He was holding up a piece of paper. Hogan looked suspiciously at it.

"What is it?" he asked. He didn't reach for it, almost afraid to touch it. Fully emerging from the tunnel, Baker held the paper out to him, gently insistent. Reluctantly, Hogan took it between his thumb and forefinger.

"It's Kinch's last letter home, sir."

"His last letter?" Hogan barely choked the words out.

"Yes, sir," Baker said, re-entering the tunnel trapdoor. "I thought you might want to read it. Oh, I almost forgot--!" Hogan turned, waiting. "We just got word...Paris is in a general state of insurrection. The Vichy government has collapsed and the resistance has occupied their local headquarters. And get this, sir...General Choltitz has contacted them to negotiate a peaceful handover of the city."

At the news, Hogan smiled for the first time in hours. "So much for Hitler's scorched earth policy," he said.

"Yes, sir. I guess Choltitz didn't want to go down in history as the 'Man who burned Paris.'"

"Apparently not," Hogan said softly. "Have you told LeBeau?" Baker nodded. "Good."

"Sir? One more thing," Baker began. Hogan looked at him expectantly. "London reports that a sub will be at the regular rendezvous point in 24 hours. Lt. Whittington and his men will leave here tonight, escorted by Rapunzel's team."

Hogan digested the information. He hadn't given any thought to the commandos since his return. He'd been so consumed by his own pain that he'd forgotten his responsibilities. Realizing that Baker was waiting for some response from him, Hogan finally nodded his thanks. As Baker made a move to duck back into the tunnel, Hogan stopped him.

"Sergeant?"

"Sir?"

"Thanks...for taking charge. You did a good job."

Unable to speak, Baker could only nod. He felt suddenly ten feet tall, pleased by Hogan's praise. He was about to reply, when he realized that Hogan had again fallen silent. Not wanting to disturb him further, Baker quietly disappeared into the tunnel.

Long after Baker was gone, Hogan sat on his bunk, still holding the letter between his thumb and forefinger. Finally, blinking rapidly, he unfolded it and began to read...

****

Dear Mom and Dad,

If you're reading this, then I'm either dead or missing. I know that I'm supposed to tell you how much I love you and what a privilege it has been to be your son, but you know that already. You know that I love and respect you both, and that I pray you'll never have to receive this letter. But you have, and for that I'm sorry.

I want you to know that I died doing what I truly believe in. After all, dying so that others might live isn't the worst possible reason to go, is it? And each day that this long and terrible war continues other mothers and fathers are receiving letters such this one, informing them of their sons' untimely deaths, ill-attempts by half-grown boys to offer comfort to those they left behind. If my death helps prevent other mothers from receiving a similar letter, then I did not die in vain.

I hope that one day, Mom and Dad, you have the pleasure of meeting some of the remarkable and heroic men with whom it's been my honor to serve--especially my commanding officer and closest friend, Col. Robert Hogan. Dad, I think you'd like him, because with the exception of you, he is probably the finest man I've ever known. And, Mom, I know you'd love him, because, well, all the women do.

Should you ever have the opportunity of meeting these men, please don't greet them as strangers. Instead, embrace them as your sons, because they surely are my brothers.

Your loving son,

James

****

Tuesday 19 SEP 1944/0530hrs local

Main Compound, Stalag 13 

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Klink walked out of his quarters for the morning roll call with a light step. Reports coming from the frontlines in Arnhem, which the Allies called Operation Market Garden, were good for the Axis Powers. Although initially surprised by the massive airdrop of over 30,000 paratroops, the German resistance was strengthening with each passing hour.

The news invigorated Klink. After a long, hot summer of setbacks, starting with the Allied Invasion of Europe and culminating with the American forces reaching the Siegfried Line just four days ago, it was heartening to see that the German resolve had not been broken.

We will win, yet, he thought proudly. Soon, the Allies will be driven back across the English Channel...perhaps all the way back to the American eastern seaboard. He looked around the compound, proudly taking in the sight of the dingy buildings, rusting barbed wire, and bored guards. Smiling, he took a deep gulp of the crisp autumn air, and promptly sneezed.

Unperturbed, he looked upon the even ranks of the prisoners as they fell into formation. Eyes narrowing, he squinted through his monocle, attempting to get a better look.

"That's strange," he murmured. The POWs appeared to be dressed unusually sharp this morning. Their normal state of ragged dress had been replaced by highly polished boots and brass, as well as neatly pressed uniforms. Furthermore, as they fell in formation, they were lining up in straight ranks and columns.

"What is going on?" he muttered. Turning to the guard outside his door, he was about to ask, when Sgt. Baker stepped forward. Executing a crisp about face, Baker addressed the assembled troops.

"Company! Attention!" As one, the prisoners snapped to attention. Baker executed a second about face, and stood impassively at attention.

Not sure why the prisoners had suddenly decided to pay him such an unexpected honor, Klink stepped down and was about to march out towards the center of the formation, when he saw Schultz emerging from the cooler. Nodding at Baker, Schultz then stood respectfully to one side, his rifle at attention.

Feeling at loss as to what was going on, Klink was about to call out to Schultz, when Hogan slowly stepped out from the dark and dank punishment cell. He appeared pale from his long stay in solitary, and still unaccustomed to light, he blinked blearily, shading his eyes from the bright morning sun. Before Klink could comment, Sgt. Baker's voice boomed out in the early morning.

"Present, Arms!"

Klink spun around in time to see row upon row of right arms snapping up in military precision. Quickly, his eyes returned to Hogan who was standing by the cooler door, taken slightly aback. Recovering, Hogan snapped to attention and shoulders back, started towards the formation. As he approached the first line of prisoners, Baker called out, "Eyes! Right!"

Instantly, the Allied ranks turned their heads as one, and as Hogan passed by, they followed his progress until he stood in front of Baker.

Feeling his earlier euphoria rapidly evaporate, Klink could only stand back and watch as Hogan returned Sgt. Baker's salute. As soon as he'd dropped his hand, Baker executed an about face and returned to his place in the ranks. Meanwhile, Hogan stood quietly surveying his men. Finally, the American officer spoke.

"Order, arms!" The POWs sharply dropped their salutes. "Stand at ease!"

Frustrated at this new turn of events, Klink wanted to say something to interrupt. Hogan had just commandeered his formation. Really, the man was impossible! When would he realize that the war was over for him? That soon the war would be over for all the Allies? Klink opened his mouth and was about to call out, when Hogan began speaking.

"Gentlemen, you honor me today with this unexpected tribute. I thank you. But know this--serving with men such as you has been my honor and privilege. Sgt. James Kinchloe is no longer with us, but the war outside goes on. Even as I speak, British and American forces are meeting with heavy resistance on several bridgeheads in the Netherlands..."

"How did he know that...?" Klink murmured.

"Maybe a little bird told him, eh, Herr Kommandant?" Schultz said at his elbow. Klink turned annoyed, slapping him with his riding crop.

"Dumkopf!" He began, but stopped when Schultz made shushing motions while simultaneously pointing at Hogan who was still talking.

"...The war is far over, gentlemen. Therefore, let us all renew our pledge to stand as one, to continue the fight, until the forces of good finally put an end to this darkness that has for many years held the free world in its grasp."

"Darkness--?" Klink asked.

"The bad guys," Schultz explained helpfully. And then, dropping his eyes in shame, added, "Us." Klink shook his fist ineffectually in his face, but before he could rant, Schultz again brought his finger up to his lips in warning. Klink turned back towards Hogan who was still speaking.

"...And to Sgt. Kinchloe, our comrade and brother in arms, whose sacrifice was above and beyond the call of duty, may he rest in peace."

At these final words, Hogan brought his arm up in silent salute. One by one, and then en masse, his men followed suit. After a few beats, Klink and Schultz also saluted in tribute to a fallen enemy soldier. Hogan slowly dropped his salute and without another word began the long, lonely trek back to his quarters.

"Order, arms!" Baker commanded. As Hogan passed by their ranks, the men at first followed him silently with their eyes, and then tentatively, one by one, they reached out and patted him on the back and shoulders. A few grabbed his hand and shook it. Before long, a crowd of well-wishers had enveloped him.

"We're with you, sir!" Turning, Hogan saw that it was one of the new men. Not more than eighteen, he thought, his eyes bleak.

"Yeah, boy! I-uh, I mean, sir!" Carter chimed in. "Just say the word! We're ready!" He smiled infectiously at Hogan. Feeling his dark spirits lifting, Hogan nodded.

"Blimey, sir!" Newkirk called out. "Like Carter said, 'Just say the word!' We'll follow you to hell and back!" Hogan gave him a 'thumbs up' sign.

"Oui, mon colonel! I think that Hell would be preferable to Stalag 13, non?" At LeBeau's weak joke, Hogan slapped him on the back and smiled for the first time in weeks. Reaching the entrance to Barracks #2, Hogan paused a moment and acknowledged the loud cheers from his men.

Nodding at Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter, he waved them inside ahead of him. Glancing nervously at each other, they did as ordered. About to follow them in, Hogan stopped, and spotting Baker in the crowd, he waved him, too. Surprised, Baker followed him in.

As soon as they were gathered in his quarters, Hogan walked up to Baker and placed a friendly arm around his shoulders.

"Fellas, let me introduce you to the newest member of our team...And my new right-hand man!"

****

The End