Chapter Seven: Plans

"Baker, wake up."

Baker jerked away from the hand on his shoulder, only to bump his head against Addison's who was sleeping on the floor beside him. He tried to adjust his position only to drive his elbow into Saunder's side. "Sorry," he hissed.

"Here," Kinch said as he offered his friend a hand and helped pull him to his feet without disturbing any more of his sleeping barracks mates. Baker let himself be led to an empty chair and once seated, sipped the cup of weak, lukewarm coffee pressed into his hands. As he drank, he wished that this was all just a bad dream. That they hadn't been discovered and that almost every inch of the tunnels wasn't packed tight with fugitive POWs.

"Any news?" Baker asked.

"I sent out some scouts to give us a better idea of where we stand. They reported that the guards have moved away from camp and started searching further out around dawn."

"And what about you? Have you gotten any sleep?"

Kinch swigged the last of his coffee like it was the finest Colombian brew. "Barracks Nineteen made breakfast. They're set up in the wine cellar. Get some and meet me up top in Barracks Eight."

Choosing not to comment on Kinch's obvious redirection, Baker finished his coffee and then made his way across the tunnel to the darkroom door. After knocking, he entered and immediately winced from the already strong stench of human waste. If they were stuck down here much longer, it would become unbearable.

The kitchen set-up in the cellar was more impressive than the latrine. The fact that Barracks Nineteen was able to make a hearty potato soup in these conditions was remarkable even if the half-ration portions were not.

Kinch was already waiting when he climbed up the ladder into the vacant barracks. "Follow me."

Baker followed his friend through a rear window and up onto the roof. He lay flat to avoid being seen by the guards, but after looking around the compound the precaution didn't seem necessary.

Stalag Thirteen was almost unrecognizable. A place that just yesterday morning had been full of people - POWs and guards everywhere in sight was now empty. He spotted two guards by the front gate, but the towers had been abandoned and there wasn't a patrol in sight.

The only object of concern and the likely reason Kinch had led him up here was the radio detection truck parked in the middle of the camp. Looking over at this friend, Baker asked, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm wondering why Hochstetter left his truck here."

"At least we know where it is. He could have hidden it nearby without us knowing it was there. So, what's the plan?"

"Still working on it. But if I can contact London, I think I get everyone out of Stalag Thirteen. However, we're stuck here as long as that truck is monitoring us."

"We could sneak down and sabotage the truck," Baker said. "The camp is so deserted that we could probably swing it in daylight if we had to."

Kinch shook his head. "Even if they don't spot us, once they notice the sabotage, there's too great a risk that they will figure out we're still here."

Right. That was a problem. "What if General Kinchmeyer ordered the truck to move?"

"That could work, but what happens when the truck arrives at its destination and people start asking why it's there? If we have no other option, I'll risk it but I'd rather not."

Baker bit his lip as he considered their limited options. The only way they'd be able to guarantee that no suspicion fell back on Stalag Thirteen would be... He had it! "What if they find a signal?"

"Explain."

"You said it would be suspicious if General Kinchmeyer orders the truck moved and there's no reason for it to be there. So we give them one. I'll escape and transmit from some abandoned house somewhere. Then, while they are looking for me, you transmit to London."

Kinch considered the offer. "That could work. But they'll be on guard. Wherever you transmit from will be crawling with Krauts."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"And..." the radioman hesitated, pain openly showing on his face. "...if you leave, you can't come back."

Baker had known that as soon as he had volunteered but hearing those words spoken aloud still shook him to his core. But if he had to sacrifice his best chance at escape to save the others then there was no question as to what his choice would be. "I understand. I'll send the message and run straight to Neverland. It should take Olsen time to shut down the route and I'll meet him there."

Unspoken were the large number of ifs surrounding that statement. For his plan would only work, if he managed to not get caught, if he managed to make it to the coast and if he wasn't too late to catch the last sub out. The odds were long, but he believed that the risk was worth it.

Kinch knew it, too. Even though his friend's eyes were full of sadness, his voice was upbeat. "That plan might just be crazy enough to work."

Baker smiled. "We wouldn't be doing Colonel Hogan proud if it wasn't."

While the cooler was an unlikely space for a meeting, Kinch decided that it was the safest place to meet the returning scouts. Here they were away from the guards and, more importantly, the sharp ears of hundreds of bored and anxious POWs.

Still, almost forty men crowded into the largest cell and the hallway around it. The scouts huddled around the map in the center as they conferred and made notes while representatives from each barracks watched with baited breath.

The head scout, a man named Gagnon looked up once he finished marking the positions of the soldiers searching the area and said, "That's all the enemies we could find."

The chief from Barracks Five crossed his arms. "You sure? That doesn't seem like enough soldiers."

"We can only report what we saw. But all we spotted were our guards and the local Gestapo."

Anderson spoke up. "That's not as suspicious as you think. I doubt the Krauts have any men left to spare."

"We've been hearing rumors for weeks that they are sending the Hitler youth boys to the front," Kinch said. "I suspect that Klink is on his own. Which is probably the only reason he hasn't been arrested yet."

"The local populace?" another POW asked.

"That would cause a panic," Baker said. "They can't risk losing what little is left of civilian morale."

Turning to the scouts, Kinch said, "Thank you. Go get some food and some rest." Then once the men disappeared into the tunnels, he gestured for Baker to come and look at the map. "Will it work?"

"Will what work?" the eager voice of Barracks Nine's Chief asked.

"Hush," another voice said.

Baker took a moment to study the map and the placement of enemy troops. Pointing to a spot northeast of camp, he said, "I think I can make it to this warehouse or..." He moved his hand to the south. "There's a bombed-out farmhouse here."

Kinch considered the options while he stared at the map. The farmhouse was riskier than the warehouse but was closer to the area he needed to access to in order to make the rest of his plan work. "The farmhouse. How long will it take you to get into place?"

"With all the patrols I'll have to dodge...at least two hours."

"Gather the things you need and meet me in the radio room in an hour."

"Right." Baker turned away and climbed down into the tunnels below.

Kinch glanced around at the faces of the remaining POWs. These were the men who had done the thankless and difficult work of managing their barracks, helping new prisoners adjust all while maintaining the illusion that this was a normal POW camp. They were leaders whose work held this camp together and, when he looked at them all, Kinch couldn't help but be humbled by the trust he saw in their eyes as they looked back at him.

"As you all know, our standing orders are that if operations are discovered, we implement Operation Humpty Dumpty. We evacuate the camp, we scatter across the countryside, escape if we can, and distract, harass and cause injury if we can't. We can still carry out those orders. And we will succeed in tying up the local forces and causing harm to the enemy if we do. But a lot of us will be recaptured, and while I believe that some of us will make it out, the odds are that more of us will die. But I believe we can do better than that. Hogan has trained us to do better than that."

Kinch felt a lump forming in his throat but he forced himself to ignore it. "I'm not Colonel Hogan, but I asked myself what he would do and came up with a plan. I can't promise you that this plan will succeed, but if it does then every single person in this camp will be in England before the week is over."

Sergeant Harty from Barracks Thirteen didn't hesitate. "That's good enough for me. Let's hear it."

"I'm in," Sergeant Anderson said. "I have no desire to go out there and get shot or stay down here and starve."

The Chief from Barracks Eleven said, "All I care about is that I see my girl again. Betty has the most-"

A swift elbow to the gut cut off the rest of the sentence. "Not this again."

Kinch smiled. They had no idea how crazy his idea was - and it was plenty crazy - but they didn't care. Gesturing for others to gather around the map, he said, "Here's what we are going to do."

Major Hochstetter could not understand why it was so difficult to arrest a German General or why he couldn't just shoot the man. If it was good enough for the Fuehrer than surely it would be no issue for a man as loyal and dedicated to the Third Reich as he.

Bah! How had his moment of triumphant turned into an unmitigated disaster? He had finally found his proof that Hogan was Papa Bear. The villain himself confessed. But instead of receiving a medal for his investigative prowess, he was being threatened with disgrace because of his enemy's lies and a treacherous general.

"Major Hochstetter," his assistant, Bauer, called out from the door.

"What are you doing here? I told you to leave me alone!"

"My apologies, Major. I have General Kinchmeyer on the phone.

Finally! His complaints must have finally reached someone untouched by Burkhalter's treasonous taint. He marched over to the desk and snatched up the phone. "Major Hochstetter here."

"What is this I hear? A whole camp of prisoners escaped on your watch!"

Hochstetter fought to keep his voice steady. "General, I arrested Papa Bear. I have captured the most dangerous man in Germany."

"Arresting one man means nothing when you've allowed nearly three hundred enemy soldiers to roam around the countryside. Is it correct that you are so incompetent that not a single man has been recaptured?"

"Colonel Klink is in charge..."

"Klink isn't fit to command a League of the German Girls Club."

"That is correct, Herr General. But if you read my report on General Burkhalter's treason you will understand-"

"I don't have time for excuses!" Hochstetter winced and held the phone away from his ear. "My agents have discovered that the Underground is active in the area around Cemetery Stoffein. We received word that they are expecting a radio communication this evening to coordinate moving the escaped prisoners. I order you to move your radio detection truck into position and find those traitors."

"Of course, General. I will pass on the word at once, General."

"See that it is done or Papa Bear won't be facing the firing squad alone. Heil Hitler."

"Heil Hitler."

Hochstetter slammed down the phone. "Bauer!" He had to hurry. He didn't have much time to move everyone into position. He would recapture those prisoners and then, finally, he would be rid of that bungling Klink and treasonous Burkhalter for good!

"Papa Bear calling Mama Bear. Papa Bear calling Mama Bear. Come in, Mama Bear."

"Papa Bear, is that really you?"

Kinch was touched by the concern in the operator's voice even though she was technically breaking protocol. "The wolves are prowling, but the den is secure. Send the firebird to C16 when Jack jumps over the candlestick. Do you copy?"

"Firebird. C16. Jack jumps over the candlestick."

"Affirmative."

"Bide a moment."

Kinch tapped his fingers against the table. The second hand on his watch ticked away... He couldn't afford to stay on the line much longer.

A male voice came through the speakers. "Papa Bear, remember sharing porridge with Little Bo Peep?"

Kinch straightened in his chair; it didn't matter that the man was in London, he was still in the presence of a general. "It was Christmas Pie with Jack and Jill."

"It was indeed. Roger, wilco."

"Papa Bear, out."

Finishing the call, Kinch leaned back in his chair and thrust both hands in the air. London had pulled through! They would have a chance.

Baker set down the mic and looked at his watch. Five minutes had passed. Kinch should be done with his call by now, but even though they had carefully planned out every second of this operation, he hesitated. What if the truck hadn't noticed his signal? If he lasted another minute, it would give the others more protection. Surely one more minute would still give him plenty of time to get away ...

"Papa Bear to Rumpelstiltskin. Come in, Rumpelstiltskin..."

Another minute passed, then two. Finally, Baker worked up the will to stop. He'd done all he could. He needed to leave. Now!

Leaving his equipment behind, Baker cracked open the door and spotted movement on the other side of the road. Gestapo! How had they gotten here so quickly?

Heart racing, Baker ran to the back of the house, opened a window and jumped out. He didn't even look around while he sprinted for the woods. Immediately, a voice called out, "Halt!"

Baker snapped his head toward the sound but his legs kept moving forward. He never saw the log until he was lying on the ground. Before he could even think about standing up, two soldiers grabbed him and forced him to his feet.

A Gestapo officer approached, his eyes taking in every detail of Baker's uniform

"Who are you?"

Sergeant Baker. 13643846."

"Who were trying to contact?"

Sergeant Baker. 13643846."

"Where are the other prisoners hiding?"

"Sergeant Baker. 13643846."

The officer gestured to the guard holding him. "Take the prisoner to Major Hochstetter. He'll make him talk."