This one comes out of [or beneath] Episode #40 "A Klink, A Bomb, and a Short Fuse." [Second season. Writer: Phil Sharp]. It is my rendition of the cave in incident that kept Carter below with his phoney bomb while Colonel Hogan was diffusing the real one.
Disclaimer: According to the tag at the end of the programs broadcast to my part of the world, Hogan's Heroes is owned by Bing Crosby Productions and distributed by Viacom. Whoever owns it, I don't. I can't take credit for the characters or the situation mentioned above. The conversation between Kinch and Hogan is not mine but Mr. Sharp's. I know it's written incorrectly. I don't have that episode, so I wrote what I did remember from it.
"Kinch?" Carter popped his head out the shaft of the tunnel. The other men of Barracks Two were asleep in their bunks after midnight, but since Sergeant Kinchloe's bunk covered the entrance to the secret tunnel beneath them and Kinch knew that Carter had been in the tunnel making the phoney bomb, he was awake and waiting up for him to emerge.
James Kinchloe looked up from his coffee cup. He had tried to read his book by the glow from the embers of the stove, but had given it up when the light grew too dim. He gave Carter a tired smile.
"Right here. Finally finished the bomb?"
"Yeah. I think it looks just like the real thing, considering the parts I made it from," he said with some pride. "It looks like the one that Sergeant Evans described to me when we had him here." Sergeant Evans was a bombardier, and the latest in a series of American airmen that the prisoners of Stalag Thirteen had assisted in sending along the escape route back to England. "It's just that I'm having a little trouble getting it out. It's kind of unwieldy. Do you mind helping?"
"Sure. I'll just drain my cup. You go back down and I'll meet you below."
"Thanks." Carter popped back down below. Kinch smiled at Carter's enthusiasm. He doubted that anything got that boy downhearted for long. Well, good for Carter. He's a nice kid. Pity he seldom thought things through and always dragged everyone into trouble with him.
I'm just the opposite, I guess, the black radio operator mused. I think things through too much. It makes me hesitant about sticking out my neck. With Colonel Hogan, the risk usually pays off, but he's not known as 'Reckless Robert' for nothing. One day it's going to happen that his luck will run low, just like the day we were shot down.
Kinch stared down at his coffee cup, wincing as he remembered that horrible experience. I want us all to get out of this war alive. Carter shouldn't even be here. The war's no place for a guy as nice and as naïve as him. He drank the dregs of his coffee and put down the cup.
He rose from his stool and glanced at the closed door of Colonel Hogan's quarters.
"Sometimes I think our lives depend entirely on your luck, Colonel. How can we keep it from running out?"
Well, this mission should've been simple. Kinch reflected as he descended the ladder and started along the tunnel to the radio room and Carter's workshop. Just transmit the Luftwaffe codebook to London. Leave it to Carter to forget to put film in the camera and leave it to Burkhalter to bring a radio detector into camp. At least this time we've not been shot at. Maybe Carter's toy bomb will distract them long enough to keep Adipose Albrecht from switching on his black box and having it find my little box. Then Carter will feel better and I'll finally relax."
He heaved a sigh. "Yeah, it will work. Colonel Hogan's plans always do. Everything will come out all right.
Kinch heard the drone of aircraft overhead. The 8th Air Force finally returning from bombing that assembly plant nearby. I hope Carter's bomb matches the ones they dropped tonight. They've really shaken the place up.
Giving one of the upright supports a slight shove, he made a mental note to check the beams supporting each of the tunnels with the foremen of the tunnel crews.
Then he heard a loud boom and crash above and ahead of him. A tremendous rush of air blew through the passage, then an earth tremor knocked him off balance. His head cracked against a support beam as he fell. A galaxy of stars exploded through his brain.
Must get to Carter. Must get us both out of here.
Kinch got to his feet, feeling sick and dizzy. He willed himself not to pass out. A shower of dirt fell over him as he staggered forward. Then the crossbeam fell upon his head. Another burst of pain and stars. His failing mind registered the rumbling, creaking noises of dirt and wood giving way – the all too familiar sound of the tunnel caving in. Then that thought, and all conscious thought, faded away.
+++
Carter gazed out round eyed from the doorway of his laboratory. He had bolted into the re-enforced room just as he felt the earth shudder and saw the crossbeam supporting the entrance from the tunnel's corridor to the radio room give way. At least Kinch and the others can't say I caused this cave-in, he thought to himself.
Kinch! He gasped. He hoped that his comrade-in-arms was still drinking his coffee upstairs in the barracks, but with a sinking heart, he knew he was not. Kinch did not waste time getting to work when there was work to be done. He would've been in the tunnel, might now lie injured or lifeless beneath the soil and debris.
What should he do? He looked at the fallen earth and splintered beams. He had a shovel in the lab and there was one under the cot in the radio room. Kinch had insisted on it after the major cave-in that had trapped them both when the operation began. He could try to dig his way back to him.
No, he was such a stupid, bumbling fool that he'd make things worse. It was his fault that Kinch was trapped down here, although how could he have known that the tunnel would cave in? If Kinch was dead, there was nothing he could do for him. If he was still alive, he'd find a way to get himself out. Kinch always found a way.
Carter waited anxiously in the laboratory until all remained quiet and he was sure that nothing else would fall upon him. Then, cautiously venturing out, he went into the radio room and looked around.
The emergency tunnel looked intact, as far as he could see it. Perhaps if he went outside and…
Carter shrugged his shoulders. And then what? he asked himself with a faint smile. Walk up to the gate and say to the goons, "Hey, guys! Could you tell Colonel Hogan to send down a few men and dig Sergeant Kinchloe out of one of our tunnels?"
He shook his head. Kinch is right about me. I must be the stupidest guy he's ever had to work with. I know he thinks Olsen would've been a better man for the organization. If I had made the bomb smaller, so we could get it out the tunnel, or put the film in the camera in the first place, we wouldn't be down here to get caved in upon. I don't know why the Colonel ever chose me.
Carter squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, Kinch. I try so hard. You don't know how hard I try. Yet, I always mess up. I hope you're not hurt. What should I do?"
Carter gulped and swallowed his tears. Kinch would tell me to calm down and steady myself. Colonel Hogan would tell me that too. Carter opened his eyes. They fell on the radio table. The clipboard, with the photographs that he had finally taken of Kommandant Klink's codebook, lay beside the transmission key.
Early in their association, to pass away the time while they waited to go out on assignments, Kinch had taught his companions how to read Morse code, and how to power the radio and adjust the frequency. The radio was new then, and it was tempting fate to have only one man who knew how to read and transmit well. Newkirk had caught on like a flash – he always did – and whenever Kinch was called away elsewhere, he would take over the radio work himself. Although Newkirk did a good job, Kinch did not trust him with the equipment. Newkirk was a practical joker and sometimes his jokes went too far. But, if Newkirk could transmit a signal, thought Carter, why couldn't he?
Carter touched the switch that started up the radio's generator. He hesitated. Kinch was fussy about his equipment. He had cobbled the radio together out of parts he had salvaged from planes that had been shot down nearby, from German radios that had briefly come in contact with Newkirk's talented pickpocket's fingers, and from makeshifts of his own devising. Such a hybrid machine frequently broke down if it was not handled carefully in the right way. Kinch would forgive many wrongs, but if he was still alive, and if he found out that someone besides himself had touched his precious transmitter, look out LuLu! Especially if that someone was Carter the Klutz.
But that codebook had to be sent, and right now Kinch could not send it. Maybe Kinch would never send anything again. He could be dead. He probably was dead.
Carter squirmed. He couldn't just sit here twiddling his thumbs until he was rescued and knew for sure. He had to do something. After all, it was all his fault: forgetting the film, calling Kinch down into the tunnel to help him bring up the phoney bomb. He had to make one thing right, if only to make it up to Kinch's ghost for causing his death. He had to transmit the code book.
Holding back his grief and his fear, Carter pulled up the power switch and cranked the generator's mechanism. Hearing the generator begin to hum, the young man almost sensed the electricity surge into the radio. He felt like Frankenstein animating his monster. He pumped the pneumatic lever that raised the antenna hidden in the Luftstalag's flagpole.
This was thrilling. No wonder Kinch was so protective of his radio.
Seating himself before the transmission key, he adjusted the spark and the frequency dial, as he had seen his colleague do so many times. He tapped two V's to confirm he had done all correctly. They sounded clear. Then, holding his breath, he slowly began to tap: "Papa Bear to Goldilocks…"
+++
Kinch drifted hazily in and out of consciousness. When he gradually awoke, he looked around, groaning at the pain as he cautiously moved his aching head and cramped limbs. He sighed with relief as he realized that he could move his legs. He was not buried alive, nor was he paralysed.
He could just discern the outlines of fallen timbers. Apparently, a little light was getting into the tunnel from somewhere. I hope it's not coming through from the outside through a hole where dirt's fallen through. I hope it's coming from behind me or beyond, where Carter is.
He slowly put his hand to his head, at the spot where he felt the greatest pain, and then rubbed his forefinger and thumb together. They felt sticky and gritty.
Blood and dirt. It figures. That's why I feel so whoozy.
As he came fully awake, his memory returned.
Carter's in the tunnel too, but where? Must make sure he all right.
He called out Carter's name and was surprised that it came out of his mouth in a shaky whisper. He steadied his voice and called louder. No answer. He called louder still. Silence.
He was just a few minutes ahead of me.
Kinch got to his knees, and then, cautiously, to his feet. He leaned against the wall of the tunnel, willing his arms and legs to stop trembling.
He was just a few minutes ahead of me, he repeated, looking dazedly at the fallen earth and timbers between him and Carter's laboratory.
Taking comfort in the fact that he had just missed being buried beneath the cave-in, he willed himself to believe that Carter too still lived. Got to get out myself, and get the guys to help me dig him out.
He groped along the wall of the tunnel back toward the barracks entrance, testing and then crawling through gaps and over half fallen timbers, until he came to an unlit lamp hanging on its bracket. Cupping his hand beneath the lamp and raising it, he was relieved to feel by its weight that it was half full of oil.
He pulled his matchbox from his shirt pocket and lit the wick, recalling one of his grandmother's maxims. "Cleanliness and courtesy, well learned, are never wasted." As the person ultimately responsible for the physical maintenance of the tunnel, Kinch had frequently blessed his grandmother for keeping him up to the mark in his childhood; but never had he blessed her as fervently as he did now. The habits of good housekeeping she had drummed into him had certainly paid off. He had kept all the lamps filled, but lit only those he needed to see by when he was down here alone. It seemed that Carter had also learned to be frugal.
Kinch again suppressed the pang in his heart at the thought that the cave in might have buried his maladroit, impulsive young friend. Carter's ineptitude exasperated him, but the poor guy always tried so hard to redeem himself. Kinch felt ashamed of the things he said and the even crueller things he suppressed himself from saying whenever he lost his patience with him.
No time for that now. The time to grieve for Carter is when I know he is dead. Right now, we've got to make sure that hasn't happened.
Removing the lamp from its bracket, he shone it on what lay before him. He heaved a sigh as he assessed the devastation he saw. He pushed slightly on a half fallen support beam with his knee. A trickle of dirt fell over him, but the wood held fast.
It's not entirely blocked off. There are gaps. Maybe further on it's not as bad as it looks here. Maybe Carter made it into the emergency tunnel.
"I promise we'll get you out, Andrew. Just keep calm and stay put. And don't touch anything." Kinch grimaced. If Carter touched anything, with his current batting average, the entire tunnel network might collapse upon them.
+++
Though the window of the common room of Barracks Two, Louis LeBeau eagerly watched the interchange among his Colonél Hogan, and the three Germans, General Burkhalter, Kommandant Klink and Sergeant Schultz. The three officers and the portly sergeant of the guard stood around what looked like a bomb, half-buried in the middle of the compound.
"Very nice," he murmured. "Very authentic. The angle is just right. I can believe that it actually landed in that way from an airplane."
"It feels rather strange, not to have had roll call this morning," Corporal Newkirk remarked as he finished his breakfast. The moment that General Burkhalter had spotted the bomb in the compound, he ordered Kommandant Klink to cancel the morning count of prisoners. The movement of so many men in a confined space at one time could set off the bomb, he had told the Kommandant. "Klink must've been quivering so hard his monocle would have done the shimmy."
He glanced at the two empty plates on the table, one beside and one across from him. "I wonder where Kinch and Carter are."
"Probably sleeping downstairs in the tunnel. Let them rest until Burkhalter leaves with his radio detection box. They've both had a long night, making and setting up the phoney bomb."
They smiled indulgently at each other. They knew that to compensate for his lack of sleep during the nights when he waited for messages from London or the underground, or waited up for the other guys to return after their missions, Kinch would catnap in the radio room for an hour or two after breakfast. It was the only quiet place in the camp at that time and Colonel Hogan had made it a standing order that no one was to disturb the sergeant whenever he was in the tunnel unless it was by his order. The colonel said it was the only standing order that his men ever obeyed. Sometimes the men thought that the colonel himself should obey it. Colonel Hogan took his radioman's stamina too much for granted.
Newkirk grinned. "Maybe we don't need to wake up Kinch. I could transmit that codebook just as well as he can."
"No you cannot and well you know it. It's a long job and calls for speed and accuracy. You have neither and Kinch is the best there is."
"Well, if we can't rouse him, I'm prepared to give it a go."
"You haven't given him a – qu'est que c'est – a 'Mickey Finn' in his coffee lately, have you?" LeBeau asked, half in jest, referring to a time when Carter slipped a couple of sleeping pills into Kinch's coffee.
It had happened after the completion of an incredibly difficult assignment that nearly cost them their lives not only through Carter's bungling but also through the colonel's bad habit of over-elaborate planning. The black sergeant had spent nearly four days without sleep and was therefore too tired and irritable to keep his usual firm grip upon his temper. He could not rebuke his colonel; but to compensate for that, he had buried Carter in a lava flow of caustic remarks on the young man's stupidity and ineptitude. Carter had retaliated by drugging Kinch's coffee so that the colonel would find his radioman asleep at his key and berate him with the same severity. He wanted Kinch to swallow the same bitter medicine he had served to him.
But Carter overestimated the dosage necessary to put his exhausted colleague under. Kinch slept soundly for an entire seventy-two hours, missing twelve appels [roll calls] and causing both the German and the American colonels to go into fits. Klink thought the black sergeant had successfully escaped from camp and Hogan thought his radioman would remain comatose forever.
"After what happened before? Are you barmy?" Newkirk then chuckled. "I don't know who felt worse about it afterward – Kinch for saying the things he said to Carter or Carter for doing what he did to Kinch."
"Or the colonél for his scheme nearly putting us in our graves. After all, that's why Kinch had to do without his sleep for so long. He had to find a way to set us free without disclosing the operation."
"Lucky for us that he did find one."
LeBeau looked out the window again. "Burkhalter's leaving in a hurry, with his little black box. I think the colonél has done it again."
"And without risking our lives this time. I think this calls for a little champagne, don't you?"
"With sausage and powdered eggs?" LeBeau raised his eyes to heaven. "Never will I understand the English stomach."
"Well," Newkirk said as he rose from his seat. "Guess I better wake up at least one of our Sleeping Beauties."
At that moment, the two men heard the two hard metallic raps that signalled someone in the tunnel wanted to come up. Newkirk banged twice on the bunk covering the entrance.
The bottom bunk rose. Kinch, already on the ladder, emerged half-way out of the shaft. He paused in his climb, blinking at the sunlight streaming through the open window, and for a moment was too shocked to speak. Carter had called him downstairs just after two o'clock. Bright sunlight meant that at least four hours had gone by while he lay unconscious and Carter…
"LeBeau! Where's Colonel Hogan?" Kinch demanded.
LeBeau turned from the window. He gaped at his comrade-in-arms. Kinch was covered in dirt, his hair crusted with dirt and blood. He looked ghastly, as if he had seen a ghost, or had nearly become one.
"He's out in the compound with Klink, Schultz and Burkhalter, examining Carter's phoney bomb." LeBeau took a step toward him, and then halted in astonishment. Kinch had visibly paled. "What's wrong, mon ami?"
Kinch stared back at him, wide-eyed. "Bomb? What bomb?"
"The bomb in the compound, mate. The one Carter made to scare away Burkhalter and his radio detection box. Remember?" Newkirk spoke gently, to hide his alarm. Obviously, Kinch had escaped from a cave-in and Carter's still trapped. Kinch's nerves must be in a terrible state, but he knew about the phoney bomb.
Kinch gaped at him. "The bomb … Carter … made?"
Pressing his arms on the side supports of his bunk, Kinch hoisted himself almost out of the tunnel entrance. He peered out the window, over LeBeau's shoulder. He gasped and closed his eyes as he sank back on the ladder.
"Oh God, no!" he moaned softly.
His two friends stared at him as if they had now seen his ghost.
"What's wrong, man?"
Kinch leaned against the ladder. He thought of poor Carter, possibly dead and buried beneath the dirt of the caved in tunnel. Now this. He opened his eyes. "Carter," he managed to say. "Carter's trapped down below with the phoney bomb. The one out there is real."
"What?" shouted LeBeau.
"He was just coming through the tunnel with the phoney. It took up some space. He knew I was waiting up for him, so he called up to me for help getting it through. He went back down while I finished my coffee. When I got downstairs and halfway through the tunnel, I heard a boom and that's all I remember." He swallowed hard. "Carter's still down there."
Newkirk stared at LeBeau, then at Kinch. "Is he…?"
Kinch shook his head. "I don't know, Newkirk. I don't know. Come on. We've got to get him out."
Newkirk and LeBeau hastily followed him down the tunnel shaft.
They stared at the broken and shifted timbers and at the dirt clogging the passage to the radio room.
"Blimey! How bad do you think it is?"
"Bad enough. We're more than halfway across the compound. I think we can get Carter out in a few hours."
I hope he made it back to his lab and that it didn't collapse. It shouldn't. After his last explosion, we re-enforced it well.
"Right then. Let's get to it." Newkirk removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
The three men dug in silence for twenty minutes. Then Kinch cocked his head.
He held up his hand. "Stop a minute." Do you hear what I hear?
Newkirk and LeBeau stopped digging. "I hear clicking," Newkirk replied. He paled. "The bomb?"
The men strained their ears.
"That's Morse," said Kinch. His eyes widened. "Carter!" He shouted. "Carter! Stop transmitting! Shut down the radio!"
"Why should he stop?" LeBeau asked.
"Because there's an unexploded bomb over our heads, that's why! The radio waves or an electrical pulse or a spark could set it off. Carter!"
The faint clicks continued undisturbed.
"It's no use," Kinch said. His shoulders slumped. "With the earphones on, he can't hear me."
He roused himself. "Everyone back up the tunnel, right now! Hurry!" Kinch propelled Newkirk and LeBeau back along the tunnel to the entrance under his bunk.
Newkirk suddenly recoiled. "Kinch, the guv'nor doesn't know the bomb he's handling is real. He thinks it's Carter's phoney bomb."
"That's right, the colonél doesn't know." LeBeau said, horrified. "He's defusing a live bomb, thinking it's a fake."
"I'll tell him." Kinch said. "None of you goes back into the tunnel while I'm gone."
He rapidly climbed up the ladder. Ducking his head beneath the faucet of the sink, he hastily rinsed as much dirt and blood as he could from his face and hair. "Hope Klink and Schultz are too distracted by the bomb to notice how I look."
Newkirk pulled on his sleeve.
"But what about Carter? We can't leave him down there."
"None of you goes back into the tunnel. Not without me. Understood?" The sergeant commanded in a voice hard as granite. The two corporals knew the tone of authority when they heard it. They nodded acquiescence.
"Oui. D'Accord."
"Yeah, Kinch, we'll stay."
"Good." Kinch left the barracks.
"That Carter. Why doesn't he ever think before he acts?" Newkirk sighed. "Poor daft kid. If he had put film in the camera, we would've had the pictures earlier and Kinch could've radioed the information before Burkhalter and his radio detection box came into camp. He's been knocking himself down about it ever since.
"And when he thinks he's finally done something right by building the phoney bomb to scare away Burkhalter and the box, a real bomb caves the tunnel in on him so he can't use it."
"And Kinch can't get in to radio the book to London. Carter thinks he's salvaging the situation by transmitting it himself." Newkirk heaved a sigh. "He's just trying to help."
"And getting us killed while he does it."
"He thinks it's just an ordinary cave-in. He wouldn't be so goofy about using the radio if he knew there was a live bomb ticking away on top of him. He'd be out through the emergency tunnel before you could say 'Jack Sprat.'"
"C'est que c'est, 'Jack Sprat'?" LeBeau asked.
++
"Colonel Hogan, can I speak to you for a moment?" Kinch called out. "It's urgent."
"Go away! Can't you see he's busy?" Klink said, shushing him.
Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink and Sergeant Schultz were crouched around the bomb. The two Germans were watching the American officer diffuse the bomb.
Hogan was teasing them, relishing their fear and playing with it by slowly pulling out each wire and giving them fanciful explanations about its purpose.
Kinch looked at the bomb as he came up to them. "So this is the real McCoy. Colonel, how are you going to react when I tell you what you've really got there?"
Colonel Hogan got up from his crouch and brushed his hands on his pants legs. "I'm never too busy to talk to one of my men." He smiled at his radioman, but the smile froze slightly as he took in the dirty uniform and damp hair. "What's up, Kinch? Look what dropped in last night. We've got a bomb here, a real live one."
Kinch drew him aside. He kept his voice as low and calm as he could. "That's what you've got all right, Colonel. A Real Live One."
The colonel's smile died. He stared at Kinch. "What do you mean?"
"Carter's trapped down below us with the fake bomb. This one's real."
"Do you mean that I've been tinkering around with a REAL bomb?" Hogan grasped Kinch's arm, panic raising his voice.
"Afraid so, sir."
"Well, get Carter out of there!"
"We've been trying, sir. He won't budge. He's radioing the codebook."
Kinch paused. He saw that the information didn't register entirely. Colonel Hogan had tightened his grip on his arm; shaken about the danger he had blithely and unknowingly put himself into. Kinch did not want to add to his distress by stating what was obvious to him - that the radio waves could easily set off the bomb. The colonel now had so much to worry about that that 'minor detail' had not occurred to him.
With a look and a small smile, Kinch tried to convey a reassurance he did not feel. "Yes, sir. Will do. But we're talking about Carter here. It will take a while."
Hogan nodded and replied with a smile of his own. "Of course. Do whatever you can." He squeezed the sergeant's arm and released it. "You know, Kinch, you've taken all the fun out of this."
Kinch shrugged and sighed. "Not much fun in it for me either, Colonel." he said to himself as he returned to the barracks.
"All right. Newkirk. LeBeau. Stay upstairs," he commanded them.
"What are you going to do, mate?" Newkirk demanded as he saw Kinch prepare to descend into the tunnel.
"I'm going to dig out Carter."
"But you told us not to," LeBeau said.
"Someone has to get to Carter and kill the radio or that bomb will kill him and the Colonel. I'm going alone. No reason for us all to risk our lives."
Newkirk grabbed Kinch's arm. "Not without me, mate. You're not going down there to rescue Carter without me."
"It's my job, Newkirk." Kinch said in a quiet but firm voice.
"Not without me," Newkirk repeated.
"Nor me," said LeBeau.
"Listen fellas, it's too dangerous. Let me go by myself."
"Three men can dig more dirt than one, and you said yourself we've got to get to Carter and the radio before he blows us up."
Kinch raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Ok. Ok. We don't have time to argue. Newkirk will help me dig. Simms and Olsen will shore up the passage. The rest of you will get the dirt and debris out of the way.
"LeBeau, stay here and watch what happens outside. If you see them back away from the bomb, shout to us downstairs so we can get out in time." Kinch climbed down the ladder. Newkirk and the other men followed.
"Bon chance, mes amis." LeBeau whispered. His face creased into anxious lines as he turned to watch the compound from the window.
"He's still transmitting." Newkirk said as they arrived at the occluded part of the tunnel. "Determined little bleeder, Carter." He added with a catch of pride in his voice.
"Yeah", Kinch replied. "Poor guy's determined to make good. He doesn't realize what he's doing might kill him." I hope the tunnel is not entirely caved in to the radio room, or we'll never get Carter out before that bomb blows.
"Right," he said to the men behind them. "I scanned the location topside and I think I've got a fix on where the bomb is located in relation to the tunnel below. It's approximately thirty yards from the Kommandanttur and about fifteen feet to our right. We'll have to be extremely careful and pray Colonel Hogan knows what he's doing. Our lives rest more in his hands than ours now."
The four men dug and reinforced madly, pausing now and then to listen while the other men from Barracks Two gathered the earth into sacks for dispersal.
Carter still Morsed on.
LeBeau did not call down. Kinch knew they could not hear LeBeau if he did shout to them. They were too far away; but if LeBeau thought he was able to warn them by remaining above, he would not be in the tunnel to be killed with the others. The American sergeant wanted at least his little French buddy to survive the explosion.
At last, Newkirk and Kinch broke through the caved in earth. Kinch pushed through the opening, ran into the radio room and pulled up the circuit lever, shutting off the power to the radio. Then, clutching the edge of radio table in both hands, he leaned over it, gasping for the breath he needed to explain things to Carter. His head spun as the pain and dizziness from his injuries, his fatigue and his anxiety rushed over him. Marcus Simms, catching up, gripped his arms and steadied him from falling.
Carter started from the chair. "What gives?!"
Newkirk rushed behind Carter and tore the earphones from his head. "You bloody fool! You nearly got us killed! Why don't you ever think?"
"What did I do, now? I was only trying to help. I thought that since Kinch couldn't get to the radio…"
"Carter, there's an unexploded bomb above us. 'A real live one.' That's what caused the cave in." Kinch explained as patiently as he could between gasps.
"You mean I've been trapped down here with a real…" He looked up at Kinch, his eyes widening. Kinch nodded. "And I've been…" he looked at the radio. Kinch nodded again. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"Well, don't swoon yet. We've got to get out of here." Newkirk tugged hard on Carter's arm.
"Wait!" Carter cocked his head, intently listening. "Did you say there was a bomb above us?"
"Right above our heads, chum." Newkirk replied.
"Give or take a few feet." Kinch amended. "Why?"
"Well, why don't I hear it ticking?"
The men froze where they stood.
"Maybe the Colonel diffused it," Olsen said hopefully.
"Or maybe it's ready to blow." Carter replied, clutching Newkirk's arm.
The men fearfully raised their eyes and held their breaths. They heard panting. LeBeau pushed past Olsen and rushed into the radio room. "It's over," he told them. "The colonél diffused the bomb."
"Glory Hallelujah." Newkirk heaved a tremendous sigh and closed his eyes.
"Amen." Olsen replied, exhaling his own breath.
Carter looked down at the radio, then slowly at each of the men surrounding him. He looked ready to cry. He knew what they were thinking and they were right. Carter the stupid jerk had done it again. He had nearly got them killed, trying to rescue him.
He took the earphones from Newkirk's hands. Bowing his head, he offered them to Kinch.
Kinch pushed them back into Carter's hands. "You finish the transmission, Andrew." He smiled at the young man. "The rest of us will see that the dug out part is stabilized.
"But I…"
"Finish the job, Carter." Kinch gently commanded. He pulled down the circuit switch and the switch that powered the generator. Power flowed back into the radio.
Carter looked down at the earphones and then up at Kinch with shining eyes. "Thanks." he said, putting them on.
"You're welcome." Kinch replied with a smile. He clapped Simms and Newkirk on the shoulders. "Come on guys. We've got a tunnel to fix."
+++
Kinch and Newkirk listened to Carter's transmission as they fitted a support beam into the wall of the tunnel.
"You know you'll have to send it all again." Newkirk said. His transmission's terrible. Listen to all the mistakes he's making, and he's too slow and hesitant."
"I know." Kinch said quietly. "But he really thought he was doing something right at last."
"I'm surprised at you, Kinch. You've never allowed anyone near your precious equipment."
"There's always a first time. Don't tell Carter I'll re-transmit it, will you?"
Newkirk touched the black man's sleeve. "You're an old fraud, mate. Pretending to be so tough and severe. I thought you wouldn't put up with Carter's stupidity."
"Carter's had a hard time. He needs to believe in himself again. Let him have his moment. I'll square it with London this afternoon, during recreation period. Just keep Carter away from the tunnel then and tonight - o.k.? - so I can re-transmit the codebook without him finding out."
Later that afternoon:
"Where's Kinch?" Colonel Hogan asked Newkirk. "I've got a chore for him."
"He's down in the tunnel sir, transmitting the code book to London."
"I thought Carter already did that."
Newkirk shrugged. "Well, you know Carter, sir. All thumbs. He's not very good at radiowork."
Colonel Hogan shook his head and smiled. "Good old Kinch," he said affectionately. He chuckled and shook his head again.
"He didn't want to hurt Carter's feelings any more than they've been hurt already, sir." Newkirk explained. "Well, I mean, Carter's been abusing himself all over camp. So much so that we're all sick of hearing him. Kinch is really doing us a favour, letting Carter think he's finally done something right."
"So, he's redoing the job himself. It'll take hours to transmit the code book."
"Well, you know Kinch, sir." Newkirk shrugged. "He's fast and accurate."
"And kind hearted." Hogan added.
"You won't tell, Carter, will you, sir?" Newkirk looked at him anxiously. "We've been keeping him away from the tunnel until Kinch has time to complete the job. He'll send one transmission now and a longer one at night, when Carter's asleep. It won't take him long."
"No. I won't tell Carter. Don't tell Kinch I asked after him. We'll let him think that I think Carter did the job."
"Kinch is really quite something, isn't he Colonel? I thought he'd really lay into Carter for touching his baby, but he insisted that he carry the job through."
"Yeah. He's really quite something. All of you are." Colonel Hogan smiled as he watched Carter pitching horseshoes with LeBeau and Olsen. "Carter did 'carry the job through'. Any other person trapped in that cave in would've gone out through the emergency tunnel. It wasn't blocked and that's what it's there for. But not Carter. No, he transmitted the code book, since it had to be done and Kinch couldn't do it."
"Andrew's really not stupid, Colonel. He just doesn't think things through."
"I know, Newkirk. Carter's got a lot of untapped potential. I said as much to Kinch when we started this operation. Kinch had his reservations about Carter. He didn't think he was capable of doing the work without getting us killed. I told him that he saw only the lamb in Carter; but I saw the lion."
The colonel smiled. "So, Kinch let Carter finish his transmission. I think Kinch is finally coming round to agreeing with me about him."
"I don't know about that, sir; but he does see a pal who tries so very hard to do his best. I think that deep down, that counts with Kinch."
"Well, it counts with me, and I won't let any of you forget it. Between Carter's enthusiasm and the efficiency of the rest of you, I've got quite a team." He clapped Newkirk on the shoulder. "I intend to keep every single one of you."
He picked up a horseshoe. "What do you say to a game? Americans against Europeans?"
"As long as you don't pull rank again when you lose, Colonel."
"Newkirk! When have I ever pulled rank?"
The Englishman began to count on his fingers. "Well, sir. There was the last time we played basketball…And then there was that time…"