Chapter Nineteen

Surprises

Hogan's men looked at him warily. The Colonel just cocked his head and nodded in the direction of the ladder. Still carrying reservations despite Hogan's assurances, they filed downstairs, with Hogan bringing up the rear so he could keep a close watch on Newkirk as the Englishman slowly made his way down the rungs.

Once downstairs, Newkirk found a seat next to the radio desk. He shivered in the coolness of the tunnel, despite the fact that he was wearing the blue sweater that he'd loaned to Hogan at Stalag 2. Le Beau had given it back to Newkirk the day before, and the Englishman was glad, as he flatly refused to wear his blood-stained battle dress jacket until it had been cleaned and repaired. He frowned as he watched Hogan step off the ladder. If I've got me jumper on and I'm cold, how cold is the gov'nor with nothing more than his dress shirt? He's never complained about losing his jacket… but I know it meant a lot to him-in addition to keeping him warm!

Hogan approached Townsend. "Are they ready to send you back now?" he guessed. "We can get you out in the dog truck tomorrow."

"Anxious to get rid of me so soon, old man?" Townsend smiled as he shook his head. "Actually, I'd like to pick your brain for awhile, Hogan-learn how you work, how you think. Maybe a few more days." He paused. "I must ask you, though-the dog truck? Aren't those dogs trained to attack prisoners?"

A mischievous smile lit up Hogan's face, the first time Townsend could remember seeing the Colonel genuinely relaxed. "The only things these dogs will attack is a good bone-or a German." At Townsend's look of surprise, he added, "The vet who changes the dogs is a member of the Underground. He's been instrumental in the operation from the beginning."

"I see. Good show, Hogan! Now, if I may have a word?"

Hogan nodded, smiling at the typical English under-reaction at having a man train a dozen dogs to leave prisoners alone.

"Thank you." Townsend nodded to Hogan, then turned so he could see all the men as he spoke. "There seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding regarding the reason for my visit, and for that, I can only apologize and give you my assurance that I will do my best to see that such a thing never happens again." He paused to give his words time to sink in, and noted the skepticism on the men's faces as they listened. "I came down with a two-fold mission. The first part was to observe this unit in action and to return to London with those observations. I have done so, and have quite the report to take back with me."

Hogan let out a short laughing breath through his nose as he stood, arms wrapped over his chest, by his men. He smiled softly, acknowledging the bond the two had created the day before, and waited for Townsend to continue.

"The other part is to unofficially present you men with an award for the work you're doing here. While I cannot actually give you the medal at this time due to your unique circumstances here at Stalag 13, it is my pleasure to announce that each of you has been awarded a Mention In Despatches. This award is given for your exemplary bravery and dedication to duty by voluntarily remaining incarcerated here, while not only assisting many of your countrymen to escape captivity and return to active service, but also by performing intelligence and sabotage activities which have contributed greatly to the Allied war effort."

Hogan's men broke out in spontaneous chatter, expressing their pleasure at being recognized by London, and their relief that Townsend really was as harmless as Hogan had indicated. Hogan himself just let a small smile lift the corners of his lips, and his eyes smiled warmly as he watched his men bask in this unexpected praise.

Newkirk's jaw dropped. "Blimey, mates. That's a bit of all right there," he said quietly. "It means someone's finally paying attention back home."

"That they are, Corporal," Townsend confirmed, nodding. He waited, giving the men time to enjoy the idea of a commendation. When they began to wind down, the Group Captain spoke up again. "Gentlemen, if I may have your attention please." He smiled as all eyes turned in his direction. "I'm given to understand that you were all under the impression I was here to take command of this unit away from Colonel Hogan. I assure you that was never my intention. However, as of approximately twenty-three hundred hours yesterday, I became your Operations Officer in London, and will review your requests personally, with the authority to approve all but the highest-level decisions from here on out." Townsend paused, then looked directly at Hogan. "Any communications from this organization addressed to 'Aesop' will be routed directly to me, and I will personally deal with your requests in as timely a manner as possible."

Hogan nodded approvingly, humbled by this man's willingness to back up his words with real action. "Thank you, sir," he said quietly, his voice nearly drowned out by the renewed round of chatter.

Townsend straightened when he realized Hogan had addressed him with such quiet respect. "Glad to do it, Colonel Hogan, sir," he said in return. "Now, I'll tell you lads the same thing I told your commanding officer: be honest with me and I'll back you all the way. And in that spirit, I'll be equally honest and say that I actually came down here to present that MID to Hogan alone, but the Colonel made his feelings about your work and your worthiness for recognition quite clear last night, without knowing about the citation planned for himself, and after seeing how you operate here I had to agree."

Once again Hogan felt an increased respect for the Group Captain. Accolades weren't important to him, as long as his work and that of his men was taken seriously. But the fact that Townsend understood and supported his views about the worth of his fine team made Hogan feel even prouder of them than before. And it made him confident again that, despite occasional disasters, good was coming out of their mission at Stalag 13, and that he was truly doing the right thing by leading the operation, even when his heart and soul longed to be home and in the sky.

Hogan's men, for their part, took in Townsend's words thoughtfully. At first simply excited by the idea of recognition, the revelation that Hogan himself had been so adamant about their part in the operation's success touched them. And they were, if possible, even more proud to be a member of the Colonel's team, and filled with even greater respect for the man himself. They had seen for themselves in the last few days just how loyal Hogan was to them, and they were just as determined to return that devotion in kind.

Townsend looked carefully at each man before him. "Now, a final piece of business and you can get back to winning the war. I cannot promise that every supply request will be filled. But I do promise that if there is a refusal, there will be a bloody good reason for it. To that end, I want you to come up with two lists for me to take back to London. One should be of critically needed materials, the other of things less urgent, but that should be kept on hand, as it were." He paused, and chuckled softly at the anticipatory grins that came over the men's faces. "I have the feeling you lot are going to keep me on the hop until this business with Herr Hitler is done."

Hogan smiled knowingly. "You have my promise on that one, Townsend."

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"Might I have a word with you, Colonel?" Newkirk stepped up to Hogan as the men were dismissed from evening roll call a week later. When Hogan turned to him and nodded, the Englishman went on. "With the Group Captain being gone now, everything's pretty quiet around here, and well, it's been about a week since I've had a chance to stretch me legs, if you know what I mean." Newkirk's eyes slid past Hogan as the Englishman cast a longing look at the woods beyond the barbed wire. "Would it be all right if I went out for a bit after lights-out, gov'nor? I'd only be gone about an hour or so at the most."

Hogan frowned slightly. "I know it's been rough on you, Peter… but do you think you're really up to going out yet? I'm not sure I like the idea of you roaming around unescorted for a couple of hours just to satisfy your wandering spirit."

"I'll be all right, sir." Newkirk brought his eyes back to look at his commanding officer. "Like I said, I'll only stay out about an hour, and I promise I won't go anywhere near town."

Hogan rubbed his eyes tiredly and grabbed a cup of coffee. The last few evenings had been cool, and while he was never one to complain, the thin coat Klink had actually had the generosity to offer him when he realized Hogan no longer had his-and which, feeling distinctly uncomfortable in, Hogan did not wear-did nothing to offset the chill. And without his cap, he felt almost naked. He gratefully took a swallow of the hot, bitter brew. "You're thinking of doing this tonight?"

"No time like the present, gov'nor. It's gonna be a good clear night; looks like a bomber's moon, in fact." Newkirk paused, and gave Hogan an ironic smile. "I'll have no trouble watchin' where I put me feet this time."

Hogan gave a start, the memories of watching Newkirk fall on that night they escaped from Stalag 2 still raw in his mind. Then he forced himself to relax and sighed. "All right, Newkirk. Just a couple of hours. I want you back here before midnight, understand?"

"Righto, then. Before midnight." The Englishman smiled, pleased and looking forward to getting out of the cage for a while. "You have my word on it."

"Dare I make this an order, Newkirk?" Hogan asked, still convinced he was going to be up half the night worrying while the Corporal strolled, delighted and relaxed, around Germany.

"If you like, Colonel." Newkirk's smile faded as he answered quietly. "I've... been wondering when you'd bring that up, sir." I've been expecting this to come up, though I just wish he wouldn't get into all that about not obeying orders tonight of all nights!

"Bring it up?"

"Well, you do have an airtight case for a couple of charges of disobedience of a direct order, and could probably make a good case for general insubordination. About the rest," Newkirk shook his head slightly. "I don't know what particular regulation would cover stripping you of your pins, but I'm sure there's one on the books in one of our respective armies."

"You've already paid the price for your insubordination," Hogan said, heading for his office. "I… appreciate everything you did, Newkirk." Hogan's voice grew quiet. "You just… go and come back so I can get a decent night's sleep for once, all right?"

"I will, sir."

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Newkirk moved through the woods, slipping easily from one hiding spot to another with the ease of long practice. A natural agility combined with training from not only the stage, but also his career as a professional thief made him graceful; the knowledge that he could come onto a German patrol at any time made him careful. On reaching his destination, he found a good place to hide behind a massive oak tree, and crouched there, taking a few minutes to do nothing more than to just listen to the silence around him.

Once he was certain he was alone, the Englishman crept into the small clearing and after a few moments of digging around, he pulled a fairly large bundle from its hiding place. Newkirk nodded to himself as he unrolled the bundle, and smiled when he found that everything was exactly as it should be. Excellent. He wrapped it all back up and tucked it away, making certain that the hiding place was well-concealed. That's it, then. Time to head back to camp and get the second part of this plan into operation.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

As Newkirk climbed through the bunk frame, Kinch yawned and shook his head. "You know, one of these days I'm gonna start charging you a toll for each time I have to get up and let you back into the barracks after one of your midnight rambles," he whispered.

"Tell you what, mate," Newkirk replied softly. "You do that, and I'll knock the price off what you owe me from all the rounds of gin we've played."

Kinch shook his head and settled back onto his bunk as Newkirk crossed the common room and quietly knocked on the door of Hogan's office. Hearing the muffled "Come in," the Englishman stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Well, you're back earlier than I thought you would be," Hogan said, looking up from the papers he was studying on the lower bunk.

"Sorry to disturb you, gov'nor, but while I was out, it occurred to me that I should go back and check out the spot where you and I got picked up by the Krauts last week." He paused, taking his side cap off and holding it tightly with both hands. "I know you won't remember it, but there was a bit of a scuffle before they finally got me in hand, and..." Newkirk lowered his head, not wanting to face Hogan just now. "Well, sir, I'm afraid I might have dropped something out there that might lead a smart Kraut back here to Stalag 13."

Hogan frowned. No, he didn't remember-all he remembered was a sharp pain in his head and then a jolt that woke him up to face enemy rifles. But he'd be damned if he was going to send Newkirk out twice in one night; that was like tempting Fate. "I'll have to go have a look," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk.

"We, sir." Newkirk raised his head to look directly at Hogan. "For one thing, it's my mistake, and my responsibility to set it right. For another, things were pretty confused that night. Begging the Colonel's pardon, but are you certain you can find your way back there by yourself?"

"I'm sure I can manage," Hogan replied. "And I don't expect you to set right what wasn't your fault in the first place."

"It is my fault. Had I followed orders in the first place, I wouldn't have been there to lose it." Newkirk hesitated, thinking over his next words carefully. "Please, sir. I need to do this."

Hogan paused as he was about to stand and nodded solemnly. "Every man deserves to be able to right his wrongs," he said. He stood up and looked at Newkirk. "But I'm coming with you."

"I understand, sir. And thank you." As they left the Colonel's office, Newkirk stopped at his bunk and grabbed his overcoat. He turned and held it out to Hogan. "Here, gov'nor. It's getting a bit chilly out there; you'd best take this." He smiled. "The sleeves might be a bit short, but it'll fit you all right everywhere else."

Hogan drew back and shook his head. "If it's cold outside, Corporal, you'd better wear it yourself. You know Wilson said no chills, no sickness while you recover. Get it on; I'll be fine as I am. We won't be gone too long." He sighed what was intended to be an inaudible sigh, but which failed. "The Red Cross will come through soon with a replacement jacket and cap for me. I can survive until then."

Newkirk shook his head in return. "I've got me jumper and jacket on already, and it's enough." The Englishman had finally been able to face repairing the bullet hole in his battle dress jacket after Carter had scrubbed away the blood stains. "Can't have you catching cold either, sir."

But Hogan still resisted. "I'm hot blooded," he said. "You need it more than I do. Put it on, will you?"

That was taking on the tone of an order, and as Newkirk didn't want to run the risk of being made to stay behind tonight, he pulled the greatcoat on, trying not to wince as he eased it over his injured shoulder. "Right then. Now, let's go, shall we?"

Hogan nodded, satisfied. "After you, my dear boy," he said with a bold, badly executed English accent, and making a sweeping gesture toward his doorway. "This is your escapade."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Do me a favor, mate, and let me handle the English accents. Sir."