They should have seen it coming. The air was heavy with a scent that was clean like chlorine, fresh yet sharp. A storm was gathering.
"We have to make the connection tonight," Hogan said over his men's protests as he and Carter suited up. "There's no choice. We need to get out before the rain gets heavy."
"You'll be drenched," Newkirk said sourly. "At least take ponchos."
"No, too military. Sabotage blacks only for this mission," Hogan replied. He read the worried faces of his team, his family, and added, "We're dressed in layers. We won't freeze."
"Even September nights are a lot colder when you're wet," Kinch said. But he didn't press the point, and neither did LeBeau or Newkirk.
The three who were staying behind watched solemnly as Hogan and Carter scrambled up the ladder.
Splashes hit their faces as the hatch opened once and then again; the rain had started falling. "I baptize thee," Newkirk intoned, but there was little humor behind it.
LeBeau climbed up after Hogan and Carter to crack open the lid and peer after them as they took off into the woods.
"They're clear," LeBeau said. "I still don't like it."
"They'll shelter for the night if necessary. We've got our story straight for Klink if it comes to that," Kinch replied. If Carter had to spend a little time in the cooler for his "crazy escape attempt," so be it.
LeBeau and Newkirk futzed around in the tunnels for over an hour, squabbling over better ways to store equipment and finally settling in to mend some suits, until Kinch gave an order: Back up above. Wait for them there.
Grudgingly, they ascended the ladder, leaving Kinch alone with his thoughts. He tried to distract himself by monitoring German communications on other wavelengths, but the tones were garbled. Sighing, he took off his headset.
Even down here, he could hear the wind whipping sheets of rain as the storm intensified. He heard the crack of thunder, and as the sky broke, the downpour began. Down here, he could make out the muffled drumming of rain hitting the barracks roof. Up above, he knew, it would be loud and percussive.
Soon, droplets were trickling down the tunnel walls, as they did when the weather got fierce. And soon, a light shower was coming down from the tree-trunk entrance.
Kinch gathered up a couple of buckets to catch at least some of the falling rain. "Commence worrying," he told himself with a dry laugh. Wasn't rain supposed to be relaxing? Wasn't it supposed to lull you and help you drift asleep? Not this rain. Not when the team had two of its finest men out of camp.
No way would they be back tonight. Kinch knew LeBeau and Newkirk were lying awake upstairs, chewing on the same thought that occupied him. Hogan and Carter couldn't risk coming back and leaving footprints in the mud close to camp. It was going to be a long night.