Colonel Hogan sighed as he tossed his magazine to the foot of his bed. He must have read it a thousand times by now and it had ceased to be interesting after half as many readings.

He was bored. Bored stiff. It was like he was a real POW or something. London had been mute and nothing interesting had popped up around camp. He was half-tempted to try and contact Marya to see if she had anything going on, but he forcefully told himself that he could never be that bored.

Clicking his tongue, he tried to think of something else to occupy his time when he heard a knock on the door. Oh, thank goodness. Maybe it was Kinch coming to tell him London had contacted them with a big job.

"Come," he said as he sat up in his bed. He was a little disappointed to see Carter poke his head in nervously.

"Colonel?"

"Come in, Carter," Hogan said. "What's up?"

Carter took off his hat and slipped into the room. He was holding a bundle under his arm, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Hogan arched an eyebrow, suddenly curious.

"Are you busy, Colonel?" Carter asked tentatively. It obviously wasn't something urgent otherwise he would have gotten right to the point.

"Never too busy for my men. What have you got there?"

"Oh… uh…" Carter looked down at the bundle and ducked his head. "Um… Well, you see, Colonel… You know, we're always so busy, but it's not like we don't get any free time. And, sure, I like to experiment with a bunch of stuff in my lab when I can, but at some point, I got to thinking that maybe I ought to do something a little more productive. I mean, not that coming up with new ways to make bombs isn't productive, especially in our line of work. But I was thinking—"

Hogan bit back a sigh as he scratched under his eye. He tried to listen to Carter's ramblings, but halfway through he decided he wasn't bored enough for that either and cut the sergeant off. "Get to the point, Carter."

"Oh, right… Um, well, the thing is, Sergeant Klein… Well, he told me about this program through the Red Cross, see, where you can connect with a university back home and you know… earn your degree? And, well, I already have a business degree, sir. That was my Dad's idea. He said it would be useful in running the farm. But I always kind of wanted to take chemistry. And I figured I'm doing so much hands-on stuff here, that I might as well have a piece of paper to prove I know what I'm doing." Carter blushed and squirmed uncomfortably. "I know! I know what you're thinking, sir. That makes it sound like kind of a vanity thing but… Well… Well, anyway, sir, I contacted the university a few months ago and they sent me a bunch of materials to read and assignments and after I sent those back, they said, if I wanted to, I could challenge a few of the courses just by taking some exams. And I thought that was a good idea. But I can't just take the exam myself because they have to know I'm not cheating and I figured they'd trust an officer to serve as a proctor so if it's not too much trouble, sir, would you? Proctor my exams, I mean. I have them right here. And I didn't peek at them, honest!"

Despite the rambling, Hogan couldn't help but smile. Leave it to Carter to take whatever free time he had to improve himself in a very tangible way.

"Sure, Carter. Happy to." Hogan jumped off his bunk and Carter handed the package over to him. Hogan inspected it. "Texas Technology College. Interesting choice."

"Oh, I didn't really get to choose, Colonel. See, the Red Cross is only partnered with so many schools and they just match you with whichever one is offering the courses you want. See, if I did have a choice, well, I'd pick good old Ball State. Or the University of North Dakota. But—"

"All right, at ease, Carter," Hogan interrupted. "I wasn't making a judgement one way or the other. Just thought it was interesting. Okay, well, you let me know when you're rea—"

"I'm ready now, sir," Carter interrupted eagerly. "I mean, I just don't want to put it off too long because what if something comes up and I never get around to it? Besides, I've been using this lull to study as much as I can and, while I don't think I'm going to forget anything right away, it would be nice to take the exams with everything fresh in my mind, y'know?"

"All right, well, let me look all this over. I'm sure it'll come with instructions for me. I'll see you out there. Oh, and send Newkirk in, would you? We'll clear out a spot in his sewing room."

Here, Carter squirmed again. "Oh, um… Do you think maybe we can just keep this between you and me, Colonel? I… Well, I don't want the guys thinking that I think that I'm better than them or something. Because I don't! Not at all, sir! And, if I fail completely, I don't need them to tease me about it either!"

Hogan gave him a soft smile. "No one's going to think or do that, Carter. But, sure. We'll keep it between us. Why don't you go down to your lab and we'll do it there."

Carter sighed in relief. "Thanks, Colonel." And with that, he offered Hogan a salute and left the room with a bounce in his step.

Hogan watched him go and then shook his head. Sometimes it was hard to think of Carter as anything but a dope, but, in reality, he was a smart guy who was extremely competent in his own field of expertise. And, heck, maybe before the war was over, he'd have more bona fide educational credentials than even Hogan had!

"Carter, would you stop pacing? You're going to wear a hole in the ruddy floor," Newkirk said from his bunk.

Hogan, pouring himself a cup of coffee at the stove, had to agree as he watched Carter pass by the table again.

"Oh. What? Oh, right." Carter sat down at the table, but his leg bounced nervously. "LeBeau, you sure you saw the mail come in?"

"Would I lie to you?" LeBeau asked.

Carter furrowed his brow and Hogan hid a smile. He had sent off Carter's examination months ago and ever since, the sergeant had been a ball of nervous energy. Every mail call—even the one the week after the papers were sent—he would practically tackle Schultz as soon as he came in with his bundle of envelopes.

"What's the matter, mate?" Newkirk asked. "Waiting for a cheque? There's no place to cash it in here."

"No, I…" Carter started but trailed off. Instead, he got up and went back to pacing around the room.

"Schultz is coming," Goldman reported from his post at the door.

Carter jumped and Hogan swiftly got to his feet and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from lunging right through the closed door. A moment later, it opened and Schultz nervously poked his head in. He looked around at the hungry eyes but paled considerably when he spotted Carter.

"M-m-m-mail call?" he whimpered as he stepped in. A dozen men mobbed him.

"All right, all right, hold it fellas," Hogan ordered, still gripping Carter who was straining to free himself. "Give the man some room."

The men backed off and Schultz straightened himself out, huffing indignantly. "Every time," he muttered. Once composed, he reached into his sack. "Goldman," he said, holding out a few envelopes. Goldman greedily snatched them up. "Kinchloe, LeBeau, Garlotti, Olsen. Olsen?… Olsen?"

"Yo!" someone, who was decidedly not Olsen, belatedly said. Schultz eyed him but apparently decided not to press the issue and handed over the letters.

"Let's see… LaCroix, Fuller, Wiggins."

As the names continued, Carter let out a little whine.

"Easy, soldier," Hogan said.

"Walsh, Lopez, Hogan, Ca— Wait…" Schultz held up an envelope and studied it, moving it closer, then further from his face, and then back again. "To Sergeant Andrew Carter care of Colonel Robert Hogan," Schultz read. He looked up, confused. "So do I give it to you—" he asked, pointing to Carter, then to Hogan— "or you?"

"Me! Give it to—"

"Hand it over, Schultz," Hogan said, pulling Carter back. That made Carter whine again but Hogan ignored him. "C'mon, Schultz you're holding up the war."

Schultz looked at Carter warily but handed the envelope to Hogan. "Sorry, Carter. But, this is for you!" He pulled out a package and handed it over. Hogan caught sight of the Texas Technology College emblem with a Red Cross symbol stamped over it.

"Ah! Better give that to me too, Schultz," Hogan said.

"But Colonel!" Carter protested. "It's against the law to knowingly deliver mail to the wrong person!"

"It's Nazi Germany, Carter," Hogan pointed out. "Those rules don't apply. Thank you!" he said as Schultz handed over the package. "All right, Carter, into my office. Go on."

"Boy," Carter mumbled as he shuffled into the other room.

"What was that all about?" Newkirk asked but didn't seem too invested in the answer as he immediately turned his attention to Schultz. "Oi, Schultzie, there's some of us still waiting."

"Nothing to worry about," Hogan assured him. Tucking his own letters into his pocket, he left his other men to their letters while he chatted with Carter. He found the sergeant sitting on his bottom bunk, his knee hopping as he wrung his hands. He looked up at Hogan as he entered and Hogan could see him employing every ounce of self-restraint not to jump up.

Hogan set the package down on his desk and then turned over the envelope. "Hmmmm," he said. "Hmmm, hmmmm, hmmm. From Texas Technology College. Hmmmm."

"Sir…" Carter pleaded.

Hogan sat on his desk and slowly ripped open the envelope. He scanned the contents of the letter, keeping his expression neutral. Carter leaned forward.

"Well… I gotta say, Carter… it's gonna be rough."

Carter's face fell. "Oh… Oh, well, that's okay, Colonel. I can handle disappointment. I promise I won't mope about it or—"

"You're gonna be busy," Hogan continued.

"You don't have to worry about that, Colonel. I won't spend any more time on it. I doubt I could do any better even if I studied twice as hard. It was a silly thing for me to do in the first place and—"

Hogan arched an eyebrow and fought back a smile. "I doubt you could do any better either," he said flatly. If possible, Carter looked even more crestfallen. "It'd be hard to beat all these A's."

Carter blinked. "A's, sir?"

"Yeah," Hogan said, tipping back his hat as he studied the letter. "I don't know what the percentage is though. I really hate it when schools do that. I mean, what does a letter mark really mean? I'm no mathematician, but even I know that ninety percent is better than—"

In a deliberate role reversal, Carter didn't wait for Hogan to finish his ramblings. He jumped up and snatched the paper from Hogan's hands. His eyes went wide. "What?! Oh boy! This is… I don't even know how… I… This is the best day ever!"

"Congratulations, Carter. Now, if I'm not mistaken, this—" he patted the package— "ought to be more material for you to study. Like I said, it's going to be rough. We've got a lot of work to do, and our mission takes priority over—"

"Don't worry sir!" Carter exclaimed. "I won't let this get in the way, I promise. And if you think it is, you just tell me, Boy, and I'll drop it like a hot potato! I promise!" Carter scooped up the package and held it close. He turned to leave but then swivelled back on his heel. "May I be dismissed, sir?"

"Dismissed."

Carter saluted and then slowly, and with as much soldierly dignity as possible, made his way to the door. But as soon as it closed behind him, Hogan heard a giddy "Woohoo!"

Hogan shook his head. There would be no living with him now. He had no doubt that Carter's enthusiasm for chemistry had just doubled (if that was possible) and everyone in the barracks was about to get a crash course on the subject.

Eeehhhhhhhhhh... I'm going to cheat a little bit. My intention is to do the best thing and the worst thing that happened to our boys while at Stalag 13 but as far as Carter is concerned, that story has already been written. I asked Abracadebra to write it and she blew it out of the water. So if you want to see Carter's worst day, please read Cutting the Strings. Just have a few tissues handy because you'll probably need them.

Also, as I continue along with the story, the question ought to be, which do y'all want first? The good news, or the bad news?