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Le Beau was keeping track of time in his head. He kept thinking about how he could get dynamite into those trucks and not be spotted. Sure, the back of the trucks might not be heavily manned-but the cab of the truck ahead of it in the convoy had at least one person in it whose eyes were supposed to be facing front! Nonetheless, he went to work down on the line with the others, laying charges and wire, taking his direction from Carter, who, only a few feet away, had already primed twice as many explosives as he had. On his other side was Kinch, who was madly wrapping wire down a sleeper. Across from him Newkirk was working his way down the line, alternately laying charges and unravelling wire. No one was speaking to or even looking at each other.

About a hundred fifty yards back they had left the truck hidden in the dense bush, Hogan senseless inside. Though there had been a discussion about someone staying behind, in the end they agreed that they could do a faster job if they all went out, then just got back to their commanding officer as quickly as possible. If he woke up, they doubted he would have the time or the strength to wander off before they returned. But time ticked away, and they were nearly as anxious to finish the work at hand to get back to the Colonel as they were to stay out of the way of the coming blasts.

Kinch signalled for the men to wind up their efforts as they heard the rumble of trucks in the distance. Carter and Newkirk trailed the wires away from the railway line and back towards the waiting truck. Le Beau examined the fuses on the dynamite he had in his belt, and looked for a protected spot to take cover in. Kinch came and laid a hand on his arm. "If you can't do it safely, Louis, don't do it," he said.

Le Beau nodded. "Oui," he said, and he shrugged. "Go back to le Colonel. I will be there in a few minutes."

Kinch gave his arm a pat and then disappeared into the bushes where Newkirk and Carter were poised to set off the explosives on the railroad tracks. Le Beau crouched until he was almost lying down, still waiting for a brilliant idea about how to pull this off. The first of the headlights appeared in the distance. He imagined the trucks blowing sky-high. Then, "C'est lui!" he whispered aloud. "Up!"

Shoving the sticks back into his belt, Le Beau made the most of his small stature to make an easy climb up a nearby tree. Bracing himself in the crook of two sturdy branches, and making sure he was well protected by surrounding foliage, he pulled out the sticks, studied the fuses again, and waited.

As the first truck appeared, Le Beau studied its structure. Closed on top, but a canvas cover, not one made of steel. Perfect. Even more flammable. The fuses were long enough to give one full minute of lead time. The other trucks were approaching, with the first now almost directly under him. Now or never, he said to himself. Deftly lighting a stick, Le Beau tossed it lightly onto the top of the lead vehicle. With his time for escape now limited, he quickly did the same with the other five sticks he held, aiming them at the trucks' canvas covers.

Thirty seconds later he was scrambling down the tree and racing as fast as he could towards the cover that hid his companions. Counting down he knew he was not going to make it and he dove into the scrub, covering his head with his arms and making himself as small as possible.

"Louis!" He heard Carter's panicked voice.

"Go! Do it! I am fine!" he shouted back.

And suddenly there was an earth-shaking blast. The sky lit up as the first truck succumbed to the attack. At the same time the railroad started to break apart, twisted steel and wood flying in all directions. The flaming projectiles set off chain reactions in the other trucks that Le Beau had not had enough explosives to hit directly. Crawling on his belly on the ground, Le Beau stole a split-second glance at the carnage behind him. The convoy had stopped: the trucks were burning, damaged beyond repair, their deadly cargo destroyed, melted, blown to pieces. ~~For you, mon Colonel.~~ A piece of the railroad track was twisted perpendicular to the ground; no transport would be happening on this line any time soon. Le Beau kept moving until he reached the others, who welcomed him into the protected cover like a hero.

"Let's go back," he said. "We have to get Colonel Hogan back to camp."

With a final look over their shoulders, the group high-tailed it back to the truck. Jumping into the driver's seat, Kinch drove quickly back towards Stalag 13 as the others checked on Hogan. "Well?" he demanded from the front.

"He is fine, mon ami," said Le Beau. "Well, not really fine. But he is here. And he is alive. We will make him fine."

Newkirk smiled at the sudden optimism. Le Beau always had a change of view after a mission had gone to plan. "He'd be real proud of you, Louis," he said. "That was just fantastic, what you did back there. More agile than a ruddy monkey!"

"Qu'est-ce que c'est 'ruddy'?" asked Le Beau.

The others laughed. "Don't worry, mate. You may not want to know."

The drive back to the camp was short and uneventful. Hogan's condition did not change, which quietly worried them all. No one wanted to voice his rising concern, as if his fears would become reality if spoken. Newkirk nonchalantly touched Hogan's neck. Thready pulse. And fever. That cut was still raw and could easily become infected. There was so much to fix. How would they manage in a POW camp to give this man whom they trusted and admired what he needed to survive?

Next to him, Le Beau was looking less and less happy. Carter noticed a tear running down his face, but said nothing; he was too close to crying himself. "What are we gonna tell the Germans?" he said. He meant it to sound business-like, but it came out more like a childlike wail. He was the trusty valet - how was he to protect Hogan now?

"I think I have an idea about that, Andrew," said Kinch quietly. The truck arrived at the drop off point. Kinch switched off the engine and turned to the others. "I'll go contact the Underground. You fellas get the Colonel inside."

"But what---?" started Carter.

"No time to stop and explain, Carter. Daylight's coming. I'll explain once the call is made." And he jumped out, moved stealthily to the stump several meters away, and disappeared under its lid.

Le Beau concerned himself with overseeing the transport of Colonel Hogan. Reluctant to grip him in any way, Newkirk knew nonetheless that it was more dangerous for Hogan to be out of camp, than it would be to be moved. Hopping out of the back of the truck, he waited for Carter and Le Beau to transfer the Colonel gently into his arms. A fireman's lift was out of the question with his injuries, thought Newkirk. He'd have to carry him the way a father would carry a sleeping child. And so he did, with some difficulty, and with great care, while only the slightest of moans escaped from Hogan's lips.

Newkirk dreaded the hardest part of the trip--- getting Hogan down into the tunnel. He had Carter and Le Beau hop down through the stump entrance ahead of him, then, grimacing at the discomfort he knew it would inflict, he tipped Hogan to an almost upright position, to let his body stretch down to where the others could pull him down and out of sight. Hogan cried out briefly, but then aside from some small whimpers he was silent, isolated in his world of pain. Newkirk cursed and quickly followed Hogan down, closing and securing the cover above his head. He bent down to examine Hogan on the floor of the tunnel before they moved him again. ~~Sorry, mate. But you're home. You're back home now.~~ "Get a stretcher, and a blanket," he ordered the little Frenchman, who was wringing his hands in worry. Le Beau took off down the tunnel. "Carter, we'll need more penicillin," he said.

"We'll have it," he said, visibly trying to change his face into a mask of detached order. He had to be strong; he couldn't help if he was falling apart. He turned and followed Le Beau's trail.

They were bringing Hogan back up into the Barracks when Kinch finished on the radio. "Don't get him TOO comfortable, fellas," he said, looking with sadness at his fallen friend. "Get his jacket and uniform, Louis. We're gonna have to move him again."

"What?" they all protested. "No, mate, no way," said Newkirk.

"I've organised the Gestapo to come and get him."