Change can be a good thing.
Or it can be very, very strange.
Maybe it can even be bad.
Whatever it does, things will never be the same again.
Once you've changed, you can't go back.
Prologue
It was a beautifully silent night that falsely proclaimed nothing was amiss in the darkened prison camp. Only the bright glance of the crescent moon saw the shimmering waters in the barrel part. The guards certainly never saw the shiny black head of a periscope as it rose cautiously up to peer at their turned backs. The glistening tube swung gently, silently back and forth, searching the camp for anything unusual. It seemed unaware that it itself would be deemed strange by most eyes. It spotted a guard lumbering closer, a huge shadow of a man, and it slipped calmly underwater. The man did not notice or hear the soft lapping of water on metal, the only evidence of its presence. He leaned innocently against the barrack's wall, pulled out a bar of concealed chocolate, and proceeded to eat it.
If somehow he could have known, he would have been appalled. For within the simple barracks, there operated a business so complex, it would have boggled his mind. Plus, if he could have known, he would still have had no desire to. It was his duty, duty to himself and not his fanatical leaders that ordered him to know nothing. The saying, "ignorance is bliss," could never be more true than in his case. He meant to keep it that way, too. So maybe he had seen the periscope, maybe he had not. One way or another, he knew nothing. The only thing certain in his crazy world.
Behind those walls, business rolled on for the occupants. They never actually stopped their work. It was work to displace a tyrannical government and they knew it; they were driven with purpose and determination. The periscope and other machinery were ingenious tools to thwart the enemy's best-laid plans. And they had, dozens of times. It was hard not to just burst into laughter at their clueless foes. Sudden laughter might be hard to explain to the humorless Gestapo. No, they couldn't laugh. Definitely there was no reason to laugh tonight.
Tonight marked the beginning of a new mission, a very dangerous mission, urgent and possibly deadly. They didn't mind the danger-they lived with danger every day as prisoners of the unstable Nazis-it was the lack of time for preparation that had them worried. The Germans had placed a nuclear research plant only three miles away from Stalag 13. The research there had progressed far too quickly for Allied tastes. So orders came from the radio: destroy the plant immediately, at all costs. Urgent. They understood that even a day's hesitation could cost thousands of lives, maybe the whole war. They promised instant action to the worried High Command. Tonight was the night to break up the monotony of the recent week.
Colonel Robert Hogan sincerely believed that. He pushed the faucet handles back into place and straightened up. Louis Lebeau and Andrew Carter stood with him, dressed in black, their faces covered in black grease. Hogan was similarly outfitted. All three wore German-issued Lugers at their sides. Sabotage was a dangerous business indeed. Grimfaced, Hogan led the other two down the tunnel disguised as a bed, to the basement where Peter Newkirk was waiting. The four men gathered close.
"All right," Hogan half-whispered. "Everything's okay up on top. I counted the guards. They're all inside the fence." He picked up the box of explosives from the floor and handed it to Carter. "We're all set, I think. How's the exit looking?" His question was directed at Newkirk, who shrugged cheerfully.
"Right as rain, guv'nor," He clipped his words out quietly. "No one in sight. Should be a right simple job."
"Well, it's not guaranteed to be," Hogan warned him, all traces of his good humor gone. He was the Colonel now, not a lax, joke-cracking American. "You fellas volunteered for this job. I'm not ordering you to do this. If you want to stay…" He had actually ordered one man to stay. Against his will, Kinch would remain behind to take command if something happened. As his best friend, Hogan held him back for a second, simple reason. He didn't want him hurt. One of us at least, should survive this war. He shook off his pessimism, turned back to the others. "So who's still in?"
"I am, Mon Colonel," Lebeau looked proudly up at him. "To whatever end."
"I suppose I am too, sir. Someone's got to come along to set the charges," Carter grinned brightly. Beneath that playful, kid exterior, there beat a truly patriotic heart. So young, Hogan mused sadly. Forced to grow up in a war he has no part in.
Newkirk shifted from foot to foot, eyes downcast. The others waited patiently. It was almost routine. He claims he has no connections to anything but himself, but he's wrong about that. Why else would he come along? Newkirk cleared his throat. "Well, I can't let you bloody blokes go wandering off alone, can I?"
They all smiled relieved grins, moved as one well oiled machine down the tunnel. Only Kinch was missing. Someone's got to mind the shop. It's for his own good, after all, Hogan assured himself. One by one, dark shadows seemed to grow up out of the tree trunk, silent ghosts that glided across the forest floor. Four hundred more feet to the road, to a waiting car and three underground members. Hogan stepped up in the dark and shook the leader's hand.
"Are you ready, Fritz?" he asked quietly. "Fritz" wasn't the shorter man's real name. To protect their families, underground members chose the most common German names they could think of. It would be stupid to use their real identities. "Who's this?"
"This is Thomas, and Lisel," Fritz motioned to the people behind him, a young man and woman. "They worked in the underground in Hammelburg, until they were found out. Then they came here. They have helped me greatly." He was vouching for their security.
"It will be an honor to work beside you, Colonel Hogan," Thomas stretched out a hand. His voice had a Berliner's accent. "We have heard much about you."
"Oui?" Lebeau grinned and kissed Lisel's delicate hand. He smiled up at her, lost in her blue eyes and blond tresses. "Well, I would like to hear much about you, ma cherie." She smiled back, missing the familiarity of his French words.
"You are kind, Herr Corporal," she said. "But we have done nothing, compared to your Colonel here." She stared up at Hogan thoughtfully.
"Well, if we get goin', we can do great things together," Newkirk urged, opening the car door.
"Right, everybody in," Hogan shooed them into the car. The road was traveled in relative silence. Hogan stole a glance at Lisel, was surprised to see her watching him from two seats away. He smiled and turned back to the window. Can't let myself be distracted tonight, but she is a pretty girl. I'll have to look her up another time. Would there be another time? The car was slowing, crunching over the gravel road that led to the plant. They pulled over, deeper into the woods and piled out, now slipped from tree to tree.
A searchlight occasionally swept the woods from a nearby tower. Several times they all dove for cover. Hogan peered around a tree, wished for the unobtrusive periscope, felt his head was far too large a target. He crept forward. Beside him, Lisel was also moving, her smaller shadow dwarfed in his own. The searchlight swung on them suddenly, and Hogan grabbed her wrist and pulled her down. They fell quietly in the leaves as the piercing light swept over them and was gone. He tried to stand back up, Lisel held him down.
"What?" he hissed. "Are you hurt?" He couldn't see much in the dark.
"No, I…I just wanted to…" she sighed. "Do you have this, feeling? Like something's going to happen? I'm-afraid." Her lower lip trembled.
"Hey, aren't we all?" he tried to comfort her. "Come on."
"No, wait! Before we go on, will you… well-kiss me?" She tried to smile at his expression. "Ja, an odd request, I know, but if something happens… I've never been kissed before. I may never have another chance. Please…" Her eyes begged him.
What if it's her dying request? He leaned forward and kissed her very gently. Their faces inches apart, he whispered, "I make it a habit to kiss every pretty girl I meet, but you take the cake in how to ask. It was an honor, Lisel."
Carefully avoiding the guards, wire clippers made short work of the fence. They rolled out the charges one at a time, a painstaking process. Every second, they waited for the guns to open fire, to feel bullets stitching down their backs. The minutes dragged on at an agonizing pace. Hogan pulled out his last charge, set the timer for five minutes. He caught up with Newkirk and Lisel as they finished their work.
"Where are the others?" He asked the English corporal.
Newkirk jerked a thumb over his shoulder. The four others were through the fence at the wood's edge. Carter turned and waved them on. It proved to be a mistake. The watch on his wrist flashed in the silver moonlight. There was a loud shout. One of the guards turned the huge spotlight on the saboteurs.
A siren blew. "Git!" Hogan shouted, pushing the others ahead. They squirmed through the fence desperately. Behind them, he could hear the growing chatter of a machine gun. "Faster!" he cried. Newkirk was through, went running into the woods. Hogan started to follow, but heard a cry. Lisel! She was stuck on the fence, her belt tangled in the loose wire. Bullets whined around his head as he raced back to help.
"Go on!" she cried. "It's too late!" The guards were running up.
"No! I can't just leave you behind! You're my responsibility!" He tugged at her belt. The guns fired again, and suddenly, he felt her go limp in his arms. "Lisel!" Something wet and warm and sticky was running over his hands. Her blood. She wasn't moving at all. He started to drop her, to run back into the woods. It was too late for her.
He was punched in the back abruptly, felt himself falling. The grass rose to meet his face. I've been shot! There was no pain, strangely, just a rush of hot air. His arms and legs wouldn't respond. He heard footsteps approaching, distant shouting. A hard boot roughly turned him over. He was staring into the Nazi's gun barrel. It's over.
The man's face was surprised. He could hear a distant rumbling. Then the whole night exploded into a thousand brilliant white lights. He felt himself being thrown through the air. The charges, he thought distantly. Then everything went from a blinding, momentary white to a peaceful, everlasting blackness.