Barracks 2 was quiet, with each prisoner in their bunk sleeping soundly. Out of the quiet though, the door to the barracks creaked open slowly. Sergeant Schultz came waddling in, singing out his usual morning wake up call.
"Raus, raus, raus. Rrrolll calll! Everybody up, rise and shine." He emphasized his command by shaking some of the heavy sleepers awake.
LeBeau looked down grumpily from his bunk above Kinch's. "Schultz, if I wanted a wake up call, I would have brought my cuckoo clock to the war with me."
All the prisoners of Barracks 2 were a bit surly this morning, some having been up for most of the night on an assignment and the others not being able to sleep until their comrades were safely home.
Newkirk, who had his face planted in his pillow, mumbled sleepily from his place above Carter's bunk. "Ah, Louie. Schultz is better than any ol' cuckoo bird. Besides getting us up on time, 'e carries messages too." Newkirk lifted his face from the pillow and leaned over so he could see Schultz. "'e's a ruddy 300 pound pigeon."
Some of the prisoners chuckled, despite their tiredness.
"Jolly jokers," Schultz muttered. "Now everyone be ready for roll call in zehn minutes," he ordered as he backed out of the barracks. "Please." With that he left the men to ready themselves.
The men slowly picked themselves out of their beds and began getting ready.
Kinch glanced up from lacing his boots, looking towards Colonel Hogan's closed door. "The Colonel must not be up yet," he commented.
LeBeau yawned wide. "I don't blame him. He was up later than any of us." The little Frenchman punctuated his own exhaustion with another yawn.
"I'll wake 'im," Newkirk volunteered, heading for the private room.
Carter, who had been looking at his calendar and counting days on his fingers, suddenly looked alarmed. "Hey! Today's Friday the 13th," he exclaimed.
All the men looked his way. "So?" LeBeau asked crossly.
"Friday the 13th. The day of bad luck. We all better be careful and wear our good luck charms." Carter pulled out a horseshoe from his small box of belongings.
Baker looked amused. "How do you wear a horseshoe?"
"Put it in your pocket," Carter said practically. "We better stay away from bad luck today."
"How can we avoid you for a whole day?" Minsk asked playfully.
"Ha ha, Minsk. I'm really serious, guys!"
Kinch looked at him oddly. "You don't really believe in all that superstition, do you Andrew?"
"Sure I do. And you guys shouldn't knock it. There really is bad luck, and today's the day for it."
Newkirk had stopped by the small stove on his way to Hogan's room in order to listen to what Carter was saying. Now he continued his mission. "Oh, lay off it, Carter." He poised his hand to knock on the Colonel's door. "There's no such thing as bad luck." Just as he finished saying that, he brought his hand down to knock. Unbeknownst to him, Colonel Hogan had opened his door and stood in the entrance when Newkirk's readied fist came down, hitting him squarely in his left eye.
"Ouch!" Hogan yelled and jumped back.
Newkirk dropped his fist and a shocked expression crossed his face. "Colonel 'ogan! I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't see you."
Hogan winced as he lightly fingered his sore eye. "It's okay. Not much harm done."
"It's going to bruise." The Brit's face looked so contrite that Hogan felt worse for him than for his sore eye.
"It'll heal," he said, giving Newkirk a pat on the shoulder. He quickly switched the subject. "Has anyone seen my shoes?" he asked the men.
"Here, Mon Colonel." LeBeau held out his shoes. "I took them last night to shine them."
"Thanks, LeBeau, but you didn't have to do that." Hogan took the worn, but shiny shoes. "They look like new!"
"Oui. I got a lot of the dirt off that you picked up when you were out on the mission last night. If the Krauts had seen them all muddy like that, they would have suspected something."
"What would I ever do without you, Louie?" Hogan asked and slung an arm around the little Corporal's shoulders.
"That's easy. You couldn't do without me."
Hogan laughed. "That's probably true."
Just then, Corporal Langenscheidt popped into the barracks.
"What can we do for you, Langenscheidt?" Kinch asked, coming up behind him and clapping him on the back.
The nervous Corporal jumped at the touch. "Ah, um, uh..." was all he got out. He was distracted by loud voices.
"Hurry up and get ready for roll call, Carter. The Germans aren't going to hold the war for you," Minsk told him.
Carter looked up from trying to stuff a horseshoe, rabbit's foot, dreamcatcher, and an arrowhead into the same coat pocket. "I'm hurrying. Gee, I can't be ready at the drop of a hat, you know."
"Why do you need all of that junk anyway?"
"It's not 'junk', Minsk. It's to ward off evil spirits and bad luck."
Their argument continued. Meanwhile, Colonel Hogan had approached Langenscheidt to ask him what he wanted. "Corporal?" When that did not get his attention, he tapped him on the arm.
"Ahhh!" In surprise the nervous man swung around and dropped his rifle, right across the Colonel's bare feet.
"Ow, ow!" the Colonel hopped from one tender foot to the other.
Langenscheidt snatched up his rifle. "Colonel Hogan! Please forgive me." The young man looked horrified.
"It's fine," Hogan sighed. He picked up the more bruised foot and rubbed it. "What was it you wanted?"
"Uh, um, ah... Sergeant Schultz wanted me to make sure you were getting ready!" he blurted.
"Yeah. Slowly, but surely," Kinch answered.
"Tell him everything is in full swing," piped Carter. He had managed to get all of his good luck charms into a now bulging pocket.
Langenscheidt gave him a strange look and nodded. He turned to give Hogan a hasty salute which caused him to drop his rifle again. It landed just short of the American's toes this time, and the Colonel shut his eyes in exasperation. Picking it back up and clutching the rifle tightly, the Corporal made his escape from the nerve-wracking presence of the prisoners.
"That guy is a menace with a rifle," Newkirk noted.
"I say he's having a bout of bad luck," Carter confided to Minsk which set them off bickering again.
"Yeah," Hogan agreed with Newkirk. He hastily sat down and put his shoes on before anything more happened to his throbbing tootsies. When he finished, he looked around the barracks and noticed Olsen still sound asleep in his bunk.
"Olsen still isn't up?" the Colonel asked and headed towards the sleeping man.
Kinch looked over. "I was trying to let him sleep as late as possible, Colonel. He hardly got any rest."
"Well, roll call is in just a few minutes. I hate to wake him, but…." He shook Olsen's shoulder gently.
Suddenly, Olsen's arm came swinging at him, and for the second time that morning a fist connected with his eye, this time the right side.
"Ugh!" He jumped away again and covered his eye.
Olsen sat up looking very confused. "Colonel Hogan. I didn't mean to hit you. I thought you were a Kraut, and…."
Hogan held up a hand. "My fault. I should have known better than to wake you up like that."
"I feel really bad about it."
"Don't. It was an accident. You and Newkirk just save the punches for the Germans." Olsen frowned, puzzled at what he meant by that. "You should get up now. Roll call is in a little while."
"Yes, Sir."
Hogan looked around the room again. "Carter, what are you doing?" The young Sergeant was straining to button his full pocket.
"I'm trying to button this so my good luck charms don't fall out."
"What do you need with those?" he asked, peeking into the tattered pocket of his flight jacket.
"Today's Friday the 13th, the day of bad luck."
A few guys grumbled and tossed their caps at him.
"All right," Hogan called an end to the barrage. "Carter is entitled to his own beliefs."
"You want one of my good luck charms, Sir?" Carter held out the horseshoe. "It doesn't fit in my pocket very well."
"No thanks. I'm not a superstitious man."
The young blond looked incredulous. "I thought you would believe in it, Colonel. You have got to admit some things around here this morning happened because of bad luck. What, you getting hit in two eyes and Langenscheidt dropping the rifle on your feet. And you still don't believe in bad luck?"
"Those were accidents, Carter. Minor mishaps."
"Roll call!" they heard Schultz bellow outside.
Carter conceded, "If you say so, Sir," before Hogan shooed the men outside.
Outside the barracks, Schultz finished counting the prisoners, ending with Colonel Hogan. "Colonel Hogan, what happened to your eyes," he wondered, referring to the dark bruised color they were turning to. "Did you get hit?"
"Of course not, Schultz. Today is World Animal Day, and I chose to pretend to be a raccoon."
The men snickered, except for Newkirk and Olsen who looked chagrined.
Behind him in formation, Hogan could hear Carter whispering to Kinch. "Why won't he admit it's because of bad luck? He knows it's real."
Kommandant Klink stomped out on his porch then. "Schultz!" Whipping around towards Klink, Schultz accidentally struck Hogan with his gun, right in the nose!
"Oh!" Hogan moaned, covering his nose with his hands. When he felt the warmth of blood trickling down his nose, he quickly tipped his head back.
Schultz reached out to steady the American. "Colonel Hogan! Es tut mir leid!" (1)
Klink quickly joined the group. "Schultz, you dummkopf!"
"Herr Kommandant, Colonel Hogan, please forgive me."
Hogan dabbed away a few drops of blood. "It wasn't on purpose, Schultz. I forgive you. Today just isn't my day."
"That's what I've been trying to tell him," Carter was whispering to Kinch again.
Klink leaned in to peer at Hogan. "Colonel Hogan, have you been fighting with your men?" Klink asked.
"No, Kommandant."
"Then how do you explain two black eyes?" he demanded.
Olsen and Newkirk stepped forward. "I'm afraid that's our fault," Newkirk confessed apologetically.
"If you hit your superior officer, then I have to throw you two in the cooler."
Hogan came to their defense quickly. "Those were just accidents too, Sir. No reason they should be disciplined."
"You all are lucky that Colonel Hogan is so understanding. Schultz, report?" the monocled Colonel asked, stepping back.
Schultz saluted. "All present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant."
"Very well. Dismiss the prisoners." Klink headed back to his office.
"All prisoners, dismissed! And I really am sorry, Colonel Hogan."
"All good," Hogan reassured him. He headed into the barracks with the other prisoners for another one of LeBeau's scrumptious breakfasts. When he walked away, Schultz noticed him limping slightly, but brushed it off.
Inside the barracks Carter patted him on the shoulder. "Poor Colonel. What a string of bad luck."
"Two eyes, your nose, and your feet. What next?" LeBeau asked as he started breakfast.
"Don't even ask that question," Hogan commanded, sitting down at the table with a groan. "I don't know what hurts more."
"Cheer up, Mon Colonel. I will make you a delicious breakfast to make you feel better. I got some eggs on my last mission to town that are just dying to be cooked to perfection." The little Frenchman gave an emphatic chef's kiss and went to retrieve his supplies from the food locker.
Hogan grinned and leaned against the table in a relaxing position, closing his eyes and letting his weariness take over him. His somnolence was rudely interrupted a moment later by Minsk and Carter who had resumed their squabbling.
"Come on, Minsk. One game of gin, please? It's not like I'm poison or something."
"You said we should keep away from bad luck, right?" Minsk could not resist ribbing the younger man again. It was not that he believed in the American's superstition, but he was so exhausted from staying up for most of the previous night. Carter turned on his best puppy dog look. "I was awake worrying about you until you got back from the assignment. I lost a night's sleep and now you want me to play cards with you when I could be making up for it?"
"Well it was no picnic for me either!" Carter shot back hotly. "I could've been blown up, shot up, or hung up."
"It's 'neither' and 'hanged up'," Baker corrected him quietly from his bunk. He had been nearly asleep when the ruckus between the Russian and the American started up.
"Who cares?" Broughton challenged grumpily.
"Hey, I'm just trying to help him improve his grammar! And why did you have to butt in...?"
Carter interrupted indignantly. "My grammar is just fine! I did real good in school."
"It's 'very well'," Baker hissed.
"Who cares!?" Broughton repeated.
"Shut up so we can sleep!" Olsen yelled.
Broughton rounded on him. "Who are you telling to shut up? You shut up!"
"You both shut up," Addison commanded.
Olsen looked up to his bunk. "Don't tell me what to do. You're just a private."
"'Just a private?'" Addison repeated hotly.
"What's wrong with that?" Broughton asked tersely, rushing to his bunkmate's defense.
"What's wrong with being a private? You started out as one, too!" Addison shot back.
"And who are you telling to shut up?!"
"Who are you to say I can't correct Carter's grammar?"
"My grammar was more good than anybody else's in my class!"
"I just want to get some sleep! I sat up and waited for you last night. And now I have to entertain you too?!"
"Just one game of gin isn't going to kill you! And I was the one risking my life last night."
"You all make more racket than Schultz," Newkirk yelled above the fray.
LeBeau's mixing spoon completed the cacophony as he banged it against the stove. "I cannot cook with all this noise!"
As the din continued, Hogan's tired eyes sought out Kinch's across the room. The sergeant merely rolled his eyes at the bickering men. Hogan gave a sigh. It was up to him to settle down the men.
"All right, all right, all right! Pipe down!" He nearly had to scream to be heard, but the room fell silent. "I get it. You're all tired, and bored, and anxious. But that's no reason to carry on like this. Remember, we're here to fight the Krauts, not each other. So if you can't play nice, then keep your mouths shut. Understood?" he finished authoritatively.
The men responded by murmuring their apologies to him or nodding their heads. Some even managed to look genuinely sorry, but Hogan did not miss the glares they kept shooting at one another. He sighed again. He could silence their voices, but he could not silence the dirty looks.
They had complete quiet until LeBeau finished their breakfast. "C'est fini." (2) All the men rose to get in line. "Ah, ah, ah. Mon Colonel first. He's had a bad day." All the men acquiesced by stepping back. Hogan stepped up to the stove, plate in hand. "Try it first, Mon Colonel, and tell me if I have enough seasoning." The Frenchman held out a spoonful of egg.
Hogan took the proffered bite. "Mmm. That's great, Louie. How do you get the eggs so light and fluffy?"
The Corporal handed him the spoon with another taste on it while he reached behind the stove and produced one of the ingredients he had been using. "The secret is to beat in baking powder in the eggs before cooking. This works wonders." He held up the box as the Colonel moved the spoon to his mouth again.
Suddenly, Kinch who had been second in line did three things in one fluid motion: dropping his plate on the ground he moved to grab the box from LeBeau and swat the spoon from Hogan's hand.
"Kinch, what's the big idea?" Hogan asked in confusion.
"Yeah!" LeBeau chimed in.
Kinch held up the box. "Louie, please tell me you did not put this stuff in the eggs the Colonel just ate."
"Of course I did. What's wrong with that?"
"You ran out of baking powder yesterday, remember? And I asked you for this box." Realization hit the Frenchman and he clapped a hand over his mouth, looking horrified. "How could you forget?"
"I'm tired!"
"What was in the box?" Hogan asked hesitantly.
"Tired?! We're all tired. How did this end up back in the food locker?"
"I found it in Carter's lab last night. I figured he was using it for experiments, so I took it back."
"What was in the box?" Hogan questioned a little more assertively.
"Didn't you think for a moment there was a reason it was there? How could you totally blank that out?"
LeBeau sank to the bench of the common room table. "Mon Colonel is going to die and it's all my fault." He began to cry.
"Die!? Kinch, LeBeau, what was in the box?" Hogan demanded desperately.
Kinch cleared his throat. "Well, Carter was having problems with rodents chewing on his supplies, so Newkirk swiped it for us, and we couldn't leave it in the original packaging for the Krauts to find, so..."
"Sergeant Kinchloe, if you don't tell me immediately what I ate, I'm going to make you a corporal."
"Well..."
"You mean that you just fed our Colonel the arsenic I swiped for you last week?" Newkirk looked at them agape.
The other men began mumbling in shock at the scene which moments later they had watched with speechless bewilderment. Hogan swiftly tossed his plate away on the table, followed by the other guys.
"Blech! Maybe I should sit down," Hogan whispered as he slid to the bench beside the sobbing Corporal.
LeBeau reached for his hands. "Oh, Mon Colonel. I would sooner kill myself than harm you. You are my brother. I'm so sorry. You must believe me that this was an accident, don't you?"
"I believe you, Louie. Don't cry. I forgive you." They fell into an embrace, shedding tears on each other's uniforms.
Newkirk threw up his hands. "Wait a moment, wait a moment. Before everyone falls apart, let me say that Colonel 'ogan is not going to die."
Despite the enormous dispute they had only a short time earlier, the rivals had put aside their differences to comfort one another as they mourned the Colonel's imminent death. Upon hearing Newkirk's announcement though, they instantly dropped their arms from the hugs and renewed their scowls.
"It was only one spoonful, so 'e doesn't 'ave very much of the arsenic in 'im. It could still do some minor damage if we don't get it out soon."
"Get it out?" Olsen looked dubious.
"By puking it up you'll remove most of it from your system, Sir."
The Colonel drew back from LeBeau. "Alright. How do I make myself vomit?"
Kinch handed him a bucket. "Think disgusting thoughts, Colonel."
"I'm pretty disgusted by this, but that's not going to do the trick."
The Frenchman snapped his fingers. "Remember when I cooked that whole pot of chow mein with sauerkraut?" (3)
"Remember when we had to dress up like women?" Newkirk added. (4)
"Remember Colonel Crittendon?" Everyone turned to look at Baker who had made the last comment.
Kinch gave him an exasperated look. "Well, what about him?"
"Just the thought of the guy makes me want to throw up." Everyone nodded their agreement.
"Gertrude Linkmeyer…."
"Major Hochstetter…."
"What about…."
"Picture this,..."
The din rose until Hogan threw up his hands. "You have some great ideas, but that won't cut it."
"I know!" LeBeau sprang to his feet and hurried to the food locker again. "If you swallow a spoonful of cinnamon at once it makes you throw up." He hurried back over with a small container and doled out some of its contents and offered it to the Colonel.
Hogan accepted it gingerly. "Are you sure this is cinnamon?"
"Oui. You must hurry before you fully digest the arsenic."
Hogan swallowed the spice and moments later he was reaching for the bucket.
"How do you feel, Colonel?" Kinch asked when he had finished.
Hogan replied with the okay sign and wiped his mouth. "Okay. Just a little upset stomach from vomiting."
"I can make you something else to settle your insides, Mon Colonel." LeBeau offered, eager to make up for nearly poisoning him.
"Come on, Louie. Don't kick a man when he's down. He's already had enough bad luck to last him a lifetime, and the day is just getting started," Carter said.
"No thanks, LeBeau," Hogan said, ignoring Carter. "I think I'll go snoop in Klink's office for something to cure me." He stood up and clapped a hand over his mouth while his belly churned.
"Maybe you should wait. You still look green," Addison observed.
"I'm fine." He left for the Kommandantur, quietly entering the outer office which was empty. He was sure Helga had the day off. Hogan cautiously crept to her desk and rifled through the drawers for some aspirin. Just as he laid his hands on the bottle, he heard someone approaching the door between the outer and inner offices. Thinking quickly, the American ducked under the desk to hide.
Helga stopped short when she entered her office, noticing the open drawer which she was certain was closed before. She could make out breathing and scanned the room for its source. The only place to hide was under her desk. Slowly approaching, she gave a powerful kick.
"Hey!" Hogan hollered as the blow connected with his chest. He crawled out clutching his torso.
Helga knelt beside him to help him up. "Hogan, are you alright?"
"I'll live."
"In that case, what were you doing rummaging through my desk?!"
"I was looking for aspirin," Hogan replied, holding up the bottle in defense. "I thought you were gone today, so when I heard you I expected it to be Klink."
Helga's face softened. "My poor darling. I'm sorry. Why do you need aspirin? Are you sick?" She pressed her lips to his forehead.
The American grinned. "No, but I could arrange to be," he quipped, kissing her back on the mouth.
She batted his arm playfully. "Silly. I was checking for fever. What's the matter?"
"Just a little stomach ache from something I ate."
"Ja. The food here has been especially terrible lately."
"That works out nicely. Then you won't need to exercise so much to stay trim." As soon as he made the remark, Hogan had two thoughts: Boy, am I tired and I hope she doesn't kick me again.
Helga's face turned to stone. Taking the aspirin bottle from him, she fished out a few and shoved them into his hand. "You're excused, Colonel Hogan," she told him pointedly.
"Uh, Helga, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
She shoved him towards the door. "Out!"
"I'm so tired I didn't know what I was saying," he pleaded.
"Get out! Raus!" She yanked open the door and forcefully pushed him out."
"I'm sorry…." The door suddenly slammed on his apology. "Fine! Have it that way!" he yelled at the closed door. Stomping his way back to Barracks 2, he banged that door shut behind him.
The men, who were doing various activities, looked up in surprise. "What's wrong?" Baker wondered.
"First I get hammered in the eye, then my feet get branded by a rifle! I then get my other eye socked, and now I look like a damn raccoon! Next my nose nearly gets squashed into my face, I almost get poisoned to death, and I'm sure I have a footprint on my chest! And to top it off, Helga is mad at me!" Hogan plonked himself down at the table, doing his best to calm down.
"Bad luck strikes again," Carter said in a sing-songy voice.
"Carter, I am not in the mood," the Colonel said through clenched teeth.
Carter looked from his glowering face to the daggers the other guys were shooting at him. Getting up from his bunk and skirting towards the door, the young man grinned nervously. "I think I'm going to take a trip to the other side of the camp," he said before he rushed out.
Newkirk, Olsen, and LeBeau looked at one another guiltily. "We're really sorry, Colonel," Olsen said quietly.
Hogan rubbed his temples. "I don't blame you guys. It wasn't on purpose. I'm just having a day that keeps going from bad to worse and worse and worse." He sighed. "I think I'm going to spend some time alone in the tunnels to cool down. I'll see you guys later."
Kinch hurriedly jumped up from his bunk and hit the mechanism to open it. Up until now Minsk had been lounging on the bench nearest Carter's bunk, his back leaned against the table and his feet sprawled in the walkway. He moved to tuck his feet in just as Hogan was stepping over them, causing them to tangle. Faster than he could blink he witnessed Hogan trip face forward into the tunnel Kinch had just opened.
"Ahhh!" All the men raced to peer down the opening after the sickening thud.
"Sir, are you all right?!" Kinch screeched as he dropped into the tunnel beside the sprawled man, not even bothering with the ladder.
"Just dandy," was the sarcastic response.
"Is anything broken? Twisted?"
Hogan took stock of himself. Besides what already hurt from earlier, he could not detect anything. "I don't think so."
"I'll help you sit up," his strong friend volunteered.
Gently, as though he were a fragile child, Kinch slowly lifted him from the ground. "Stop! Put me down."
Kinch slowly lowered him back down. "What's the matter?"
"I think I might have hurt my back. Just let me lie here for a while."
"Colonel Hogan, I'm so sorry!" Minsk shouted very loudly down to him.
"It's my back that failed, Minsk, not my ears," he replied. Shoot, I shouldn't have said that. With my luck, that's what will go next. "Why don't you go back up to the barracks, Kinch. I'll just stay here until I feel like moving. Or until the war ends, whatever comes first."
"Maybe I should stay with you."
"I want solitude, Kinch. With no one else around, and me unable to move, nothing bad can happen to me, right?" Shoot, I shouldn't have said that either. Next thing you know the tunnel will collapse on me.
"Okay, Sir. You're the boss. Hey guys, throw me a blanket down," he commanded the guys above. When someone obliged, Kinch carefully spread it over the Colonel then climbed back up to the barracks.
"And close the tunnel entrance. I don't need someone falling on me." Damn, I'm just out to jinx myself, huh? The bunk closed above him and he was left alone. Jinx. That's Carter talking. Go to sleep, Hogan. Just as he was about to doze off, the bunk opened again.
"Ol' Burk'alter is 'ere, Colonel." Hogan looked up to see Newkirk descending into the tunnel.
"Help me up, will you?" The American cast the blanket aside.
"You sure?"
"No, but help me up anyway." Slowly sitting up, he was surprised to find that while his back burned, it blended in with his painful peepers, tender tootsies, sore sniffer, twisting tummy, and throbbing torso. "I'm just one big ache," he said as he got to his feet.
Moving as fast as he could, he finally was back in the barracks. "The coffee pot plugged in Kinch?" he asked the Sergeant exiting his quarters.
"Out of order, Sir."
"Damn. Can't I get just one break today?" he asked the heavens. "Alright, I'm going to skedaddle over to Klink's office to see what this visit is about."
He left the barracks and stood for a moment in the late morning sunshine, soaking in the calmness of the day until Carter met up with him. "Burkhalter being here can only mean one thing, Colonel. Bad luck." Looking over he noticed Hogan staring him down. He smiled another awkward smile. "An officer can't hit one of his men, right?"
"Don't try me," he growled. He would never strike one of his men, but maybe if he appeared threatening, the Sergeant would leave him alone. It worked. The younger American escaped the crotchety Colonel, and Hogan sighed in relief. As he made his way slowly across the compound, he noticed the General's car still at the gate. When he went inside, Helga glanced up briefly, but quickly turned back to her work after seeing it was Hogan. He dropped the puppy dog look he had prepared for her and crossed to the inner office door. Klink bid him to enter after he knocked.
"Go away, Hogan. I'm busy," Klink said as soon as he saw him.
"Have some last minute paperwork to finish before Burkhalter arrives?" Hogan asked as he leaned against the bookshelf behind the door.
Klink looked up from his paperwork. "General Burkhalter? I'm not expecting him."
"Well he's at the front gate now."
"What?!"
Just then, the General in question banged open the door of Klink's office. "So Klink! Your security is so inferior that your prisoners need to inform you of my arrival?!"
"Yow!"
Both Klink and Burkhalter turned at the strangled cry to see Hogan doubled over.
"Colonel Hogan? What happened?" Burkhalter asked.
The American, who was unable to speak at the moment, pointed at the still swinging door and gestured to his groin.
"What's the matter?" a concerned Helga asked as she pushed her way into the room.
Hogan held his hands protectively over his private parts when she pushed the door open slightly to enter. He slowly straightened up. "The, um, doorknob hit me in my, um, uh..., down there."
His audience of three grimaced. The source of his most recent suffering merely shrugged. "I didn't realize you were behind the door, Hogan," the General said.
That's the closest I'm going to get to an apology, I guess. "If I'm excused General, Kommandant?"
"Dismissed, Colonel," Burkhalter replied.
"Yes, dismissed Hogan," Klink repeated the General.
"Fräulein Helga, if you could assist Colonel Hogan out."
"Yes, Helga, please assist Hogan…."
"Klink, stop mimicking me. What are you, a parrot?"
"He's better known as the bald eagle around here," Hogan quipped.
"Out!" Burkhalter shouted.
"Yes. Out!" Klink yelled. When the General looked at him he withered. "Not a parrot, no, Sir."
Helga led the Colonel from the room, him walking slowly and stiffly. After the door closed behind them, Burkhalter continued his tirade against Klink.
"Herr General, what do I owe this pleasure?"
"This was a surprise security inspection which you have already failed miserably."
"But, Herr General…."
"No buts!..."
Hogan had been eavesdropping with his ear against the door, but now that he was convinced Burkhalter's visit was insignificant he allowed Helga to lead him to a chair.
"Oh liebchen, you poor darling. I'm sorry for getting angry," Helga said quietly as she cupped his chin.
"No, I'm sorry. What I said before didn't come out right. You don't need to exercise to keep thin. You look like you never exercise." He watched her face contort. "That wasn't what I…."
"You can leave now," she bit out, dropping her hand from his cheek.
"Come on, Helga."
"Raus!" she ordered authoritatively.
"You know what I meant…." Completely ignoring him, she returned to her desk and her work.
Hogan got up and marched to Barracks 2. Well, as well as he could with all his aches and pains.
Slamming the door shut again. He leaned against it to breathe.
Everyone was outside enjoying the sunny afternoon except Kinch who looked up from the common room table. "What now?" the Sergeant asked.
"Well, besides it being possible I will never be able to produce kids, I just pissed off the only girl I would ever want to marry and have kids with."
"Burkhalter's visit is unimportant then?"
"Yeah, just a security check."
"Oh, I got the coffee pot working again. Just a loose wire."
Hogan looked at him in disbelief. "I went through that pain for nothing?!"
"I could put you in for a purple heart to make it worth your while," his second said with a grin.
"Don't be funny," Hogan said as he slowly sat down at the table with him. "You're the only one I would let get away with saying that, and that's because I'm not in any condition to whoop you right now."
"Or probably ever," Kinch teased, flexing his arm.
"You know, I always liked alliteration. How does Corporal Kinchloe sound?"
"Sorry, Sir. Just joking."
Hogan rubbed his face. "No, I'm sorry, Kinch. My day has been a nightmare and I'm taking it out on you."
"That's what your second in command is for."
"The thing is, I'm starting to consider Carter's babblings. I've never had a string of bad luck like this. Maybe thirteen is cursed, at least for me."
"You believe in all that superstition?"
"I didn't used to, but now…. On the other hand, Stalag 13 has always been lucky for me." (5)
"Sounds like you're not convinced."
"I guess I'm just trying to put the blame on something."
"Just take it easy, Colonel. This too shall pass."
"You're right. I'm going to relax in the sun. Thanks, Kinch."
"I wish you luck, Colonel."
"Good luck I hope."
"Of course."
Hogan left Barracks 2 and sought out the bench alongside the hut. Right after sitting down he realized the roof overhang was blocking the afternoon sun, dragging his seat forward would leave him nothing to lean against, and it was too muddy to sit on the ground in the sun. So he pulled the bench around the corner of the barracks where all his problems were solved. Almost.
"I sure feel sorry for all the bad luck the Colonel has been having," Carter said to Baker above him.
The two were on the roof fixing it the best they could for the next rain.
"Me too. I guess we shouldn't argue and make this day any worse for him."
"Sorry about our falling out, Baker."
"Me too, Carter. I didn't mean to insult your grammar."
"I know, you were just trying to help. Buddies?"
"Buddies."
Down below the Colonel stretched his legs out and smiled. He loved the comradery the prisoners had. While they would rather be anywhere than stuck in Stalag 13 in the middle of war, the men could always count on each other. Hogan closed his eyes and gave a sigh of contentment.
"Baker!" Carter suddenly yelled.
A moment later Sergeant Baker came tumbling off the roof, falling right across the Colonel's extended legs.
"Ooh!" Hogan cried as he jolted up at the bruising weight.
Baker rolled and jumped to his feet neatly. "I'm sorry, Sir! I lost my balance."
"Are you alright, Baker?" Hogan asked.
"Fine, Colonel, thanks to you breaking my fall. Are you alright?" he questioned when he noticed Hogan massaging his legs.
"Nothing worse than what's already happened to me today."
"You okay, Baker?" Carter asked anxiously as he peeked over the edge of the roof.
"I'm good, but the Colonel was hurt again.
"No, it's nothing," Hogan assured them.
Carter climbed down the ladder and came to stand by them. "Maybe you should take a rest, Sir. You're looking a little run down from staying up most of the night and all the bad luck you've been having today."
Hogan stood up quickly. Speaking very slowly through gritted teeth, he tried to get his point across to the young man. "Carter? Today has consisted of a few unfortunate incidents that resulted in a few aches and bruises, my inability to compliment Helga without also insulting her, and hearing you talk about bad luck every five seconds like you were trying to jinx me or something. There is no such thing as bad luck!" Turning quickly on his heel he stomped towards the Kommandantur.
"Where are you going, Colonel?" Baker yelled to his retreating form.
Hogan replied without turning around, "To make up with Helga! I'm going to prove to Carter that bad luck exists only in peoples' minds!"
Major Hochstetter pulled his car into the camp just then. He was coming to confront Klink and 'interview' Hogan about last night's newest act of sabotage which he was convinced was connected to Hogan, as were all the other ones. Looking over to the passenger seat, he rifled through the reports and evidence he had gathered.
"Eek!"
Suddenly, he heard a loud thump from the front of the car and he immediately screeched his brakes to a halt in response. He sat there gripping the steering wheel while trying to register that he had just hit someone. When he saw prisoners and guards alike racing to the scene, he hurriedly parked the car and jumped out. Hochstetter saw the black man Baker helping none other than Hogan to sit up.
"What happened?" Hochstetter asked, still in disbelief.
"You just ran down Colonel Hogan with your car is what," Baker said with a glare. He gave his full attention to his injured leader. "Any broken bones?" He began checking for himself.
Hogan shook his head a few times. "No, just hit my head." He had seen the car headed for him too late to jump out of the way, and now had a splitting headache.
"What's going on out here?" Burkhalter demanded from the back of the crowd. Everyone made room for him as he marched up to Hochstetter with Klink in tow.
Hochstetter saluted nervously. "Herr General. It was an accident. I hit Colonel Hogan with my car because…."
"Because you weren't watching where you were going, isn't that correct?"
"Yes, Herr General. But I can explain."
Ignoring him, Burkhalter turned to the prisoners gathered around the senior POW. "Take Colonel Hogan back to the barracks and have the camp medic look him over."
Klink finally piped in. "Yes, return to the barracks and have a medic…."
"Klink!" Burkhalter roared.
Klink made the motion of sealing his lips.
Hochstetter blocked the prisoners' exit. "And after that Hogan, you will report to the Kommandant's office," he said in smug confidence.
"For what reason, Major?"
"I have a reason for all of this, Herr General," Hochstetter promised.
"You better."
Hogan toddled towards Barracks 2 with the help of his men and into his quarters.
"Any pain, Sir?" Wilson asked after he had been fetched and he arrived at the barracks. He shooed everyone else out of the office except Hogan's core team.
"Just in my head. I'm pretty dizzy," Hogan admitted.
"You probably have a concussion. You will have to stay awake for a while. I would like to do a thorough exam though to make sure you're not injured somewhere else." After arguing a bit, Hogan finally gave in. "Where did all these bruises come from?" Wilson demanded a short time into the examination.
"I don't really want to talk about it, Wilson," the Colonel sighed.
Crossing his arms, Wilson gave him a stern look. "You better tell me, or I'll order Klink to put you on bed rest."
"Ask Carter. He's an expert on the subject." Hogan mumbled grumpily.
Carter looked up from the old wooden chair he sat in by the desk and looked at the medic seriously. "You see, Wilson. Today is Friday the 13th."
"And?"
"And today Colonel Hogan is having the worst bad luck I have ever seen. He keeps saying it's not bad luck though."
"Carter, please just tell me what happened."
"Well, so far he's been punched in both eyes, had a rifle dropped on his bare feet, got a rifle in the nose, poisoned, kicked in the chest, Baker fell on his legs, hit by a car…." He paused for a breath. "Have I missed anything?"
"Also, he fell into the tunnel and got hit in the privates," Kinch finished the list.
Wilson stood there with his mouth agape. "I can't even…. Poisoned? Fell into the tunnel…? No one thought 'Maybe we should get Wilson?'? Maybe everyone needs a head examination!"
"The car accident could have been worse. I had an uncle who got hit by a car and had to have his jaw wired shut, and…."
"Carter," Wilson warned. "I can't believe you guys. Are you out to injure yourself?"
"If he wore some good luck charms, the bad luck…."
"Carter!" Hogan and Wilson scolded in unison.
Hogan turned back to the enraged medic. "Calm down, Wilson. You're overreacting."
"Really? Well maybe I will order that bed rest for you! For the whole camp!" Grumbling to himself, he picked up his tools and stalked from the room, slamming the heavy wooden door as hard as he could. Everything rattled and then rattled again when he slammed the outer barracks door.
"I'd better go see what Hochstetter wants," Hogan sighed as he shrugged back into his bomber's jacket which he had removed during the examination.
LeBeau held out his cap for him. "Should we worry, Mon Colonel?"
Hogan took the hat from him. "I think not. If he had any real evidence pointing him to us about that mission last night, we would've already been arrested."
"I'll stand by the radio just in case," Kinch assured him.
"I'll know where to find you." Leaving the barracks for the Kommandantur again, Hogan considered how he should deal with Helga. When he entered her office, he made up his mind to completely ignore her. She followed suit which he knew because he could not help but sneak a peek. "Sorry I'm late, folks, but traffic was terrible," he quipped as he barged into Klink's office. He shot a glance at Hochstetter. "I honestly wonder how some people got their driver's license."
"So nice of you to join us, Hogan," the Major sneered. "Have a seat."
Hogan complied. "Is this a party? Because I'm afraid I left my good suit at home."
Hochstetter leaned in threateningly. "Make all the jokes you want, Colonel. You won't be laughing when you're looking at me from the other side of a gun, right before it goes off."
"Don't be silly, Major. I could never shoot you," Hogan replied as innocently as he could.
"Bah!"
"Humbug! Ebenezer Scrooge from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens! Am I right?"
"Oh, yes. Remarkable story," Klink chimed in, bobbing his head in agreement.
"Dickens was British," Hochstetter spat out.
Klink shrank back. "Of course our books are much superior…."
"Klink! I will make your head roll along with Hogan's!"
"Enough!" Burkhalter commanded from behind Klink's desk. He had tired of their bickering. He leaned forward with a creak from the chair and set his glass of schnapps down. "Suppose you tell us what you think you have on Colonel Hogan, Major."
"I'd rather have Hogan tell us himself, Herr General."
"Proceed." Burkhalter leaned back again with another groan from the chair.
Hochstetter slowly circled his prey. "What do you know about the Adolf Hitler Bridge, Colonel Hogan?"
"It's stamped with 'Made in Germany' and named after the guy with the funny mustache."
"Hogan!" Klink scolded, stamping his boot. "Don't talk about our Führer's mustache!"
"Well, at least I didn't say anything about how his eyes are too close together, or…."
"That's enough, Hogan," Burkhalter ordered.
Hochstetter continued his circling. "Last night, the Adolf Hitler Bridge was blown up for the third time, now what do you have to say about that?" (6)
"They just don't build bridges like they used to."
"I will make you talk, Colonel Hogan," he growled.
Burkhalter cut in again. "Major, do you have any evidence pointing to Hogan?"
"Not yet, Herr General. But I will. At this moment I have men scouring the perimeter of the camp for tunnels, footprints, anything they can find. How does that sound to you, Hogan?"
Hogan perked at that bit of news, but did his best to seem nonchalant. "Good luck. Actually, I take that back."
"You have something to hide?"
"No, I'm just in short supply of good luck right now, and I don't want to waste any on you."
Suddenly Hochstetter gripped both arms of Hogan's chair and tipped it back forcefully. "I have ways of making you talk." The angle the chair was at pulled on the Colonel's still sore back and he could not help but cry out. "Aha! Perhaps hiding some injuries from your moonlight sabotage, eh Hogan?" He let the chair fall forward with a bang.
"Au contraire, I've had a very trying day, and the aches to show for it, thanks to some well-meaning friends and some incompetent others who will remain nameless."
"Bah!"
"Don't believe me? I could file the whole passel in here if you want."
"I wouldn't trust one of those lying, homely nincompoops. But go on, give me one name.
"How about General Burkhalter?"
"Hah! General..." Behind him the General rose in indignation. Hochstetter turned around slowly. "...Burkhalter?"
"I suppose this 'lying, homely nincompoop's' name suffices?"
"Of course, Herr General," he stammered. "Hogan, you give me what I want, now!"
"Now where am I going to find an inflatable geisha girl in the middle of a POW camp?"
"Hogan!"
Burkhalter walked around the desk to stand toe to toe with the Gestapo man. "Major, you are obviously grasping at straws. Your interrogation of Colonel Hogan is over. As for your search around the camp, I will let you continue since it's only your own time you will be wasting. Hogan, return to your barracks."
"Thanks, General." The American walked to the door. "We must do this again sometime, Major Hochstetter. I get so much out of our little chats." The Colonel left before the irate man could reply. He did love to get him going. Stalking past Helga again, he headed outside. It was late afternoon now and most of the prisoners were outside. Hogan glanced casually towards the fence near the emergency tunnel, and the proximity of some of the guards to their tree stump made his heart thump faster. Hustling to Barracks 2 at a slower speed than he would have preferred, he immediately entered the tunnel after getting back. Sure to be quiet since there were guards right above ground, he jogged to the end of the tunnel below the stump, passing Kinch in the radio room on the way.
Kinch took off the radio headset and stretched. He had just notified London of the success of their mission the night before. He picked up a book to read, then nearly dropped it when he heard some noise from the end of the tunnel. Noticing some Gestapo goons right outside of camp before he came down in the tunnels, he had checked to make sure the tunnel entrance was latched. However, the noise he heard was unmistakably someone down here with him. He crept cautiously in their direction.
Hogan was returning after making sure the stump trapdoor was secure, and he realized some of the lights must have flickered out when he ran past earlier. He moved to relight them.
In the dim behind him, Kinch could just make out the figure of a man and snuck closer.
Hogan turned at a sudden noise behind him, just as a sharp blow came flying at his jaw. "Oof!"
Kinch saw the man crumple to the ground and relit the lights the intruder must have doused. When his eyes adjusted to the light again, he looked down. "Colonel!" He knelt beside him and shook him a few times. "Hogan?"
"Wh...what, huh?" Hogan muttered as he sat up with Kinch's help.
"I'm so sorry, Sir. I didn't see you."
"I find that hard to believe," Hogan said and rubbed his jaw. "I think you're right. I don't think I could ever take you in a fight." Kinch helped him to his feet. "Hell of a way to find out though."
"Again, I'm really sorry, Colonel. I thought one of Hochstetter's hirelings had found his way down here."
"That's why I'm down here, too. I wanted to make sure the tunnel entrance was latched. You had your headset on when I ran by the radio room, so you must not have heard me."
"I'm sorry…."
Hogan waved off the apology. "Don't worry about it. It seems I'm getting a beating from everyone in camp today, and now that you've had your turn, I don't have to be careful around you anymore. You know what they say: 'every cloud has a silver lining'."
"I'd say your jaw looks more black than silver," Kinch joked as he gently examined Hogan's face with a finger under his chin.
Hogan swatted his hand away. "Never mind. Let's get above ground. Evening roll call is in a few minutes, and I'm in a hurry for this day to end."
"Lead on."
Hogan started walking, then stopped. "You first."
Kinch grinned. "An enlisted man before an officer? Isn't that a little above my pay grade, Sir?"
Hogan pushed him forward. "Consider it an order."
"Isn't an officer supposed to lead his men into danger?" Kinch teased some more.
"Come on, I'm the one having all the bad luck. You're safe enough."
"I couldn't resist funnying with you a little bit. I will happily serve as your bodyguard."
In formation at roll call, all the men were quietly commenting among themselves about the newest bruise Hogan sported. Carter, on the other hand, was not quite as sensitive.
"Gee, Colonel, how'd you get that huge bruise?"
Kinch elbowed him in the side. "Way to be subtle, Carter. If you guys must know, it was me. It was an accident though."
"Way to be subtle, Kinch," Newkirk teased. "What'd you 'it 'im with, a 'ammer?" He turned to Hogan. "Just a joke, Gov. Your mug is still as 'andsome as ever."
"Way to be subtle, Newkirk," LeBeau said from Newkirk's other side.
"Way to be subtle, LeBeau," Carter piped in.
"Shut up, Carter."
"Leave off, Carter."
"Ferme la bouche, Carter." (7)
Kinch, Newkirk, and LeBeau spoke in unison.
"I thought we were all saying it," Carter said in his defense. The other three ignored him and started arguing.
"At least I didn't give him a black eye", Kinch yelled at Newkirk.
"You gave 'im a black jaw. What's the ruddy difference?"
"He uses his eye to see."
"'e doesn't just use 'is jaw for kissing birds."
"You were both terrible to Mon Colonel," LeBeau interjected.
"You almost killed 'im!"
"Do you fellows realize I'm still here?" Hogan yelled above the ruckus.
The men went silent, then Newkirk spoke up again. "Right. As I said, Gov, you're as 'andsome as ever. We barely even noticed anything. Right, mates?" All the men voiced their agreement except Carter. "Right, Carter?"
Kinch elbowed him again.
"Well,..."
Kinch elbowed him a third time.
Carter glared at Kinch before answering. "Right. We all barely saw that huge bump on your jaw. In fact we didn't see it at all."
All the men groaned and a few chucked their caps at him like they had done that morning.
"Never mind, guys," Hogan yelled at them.
Carter stepped up behind Hogan "This reminds me. I still have that horseshoe, Colonel, in case you changed your mind. You know, in case bad luck really does exist.
"Never mind, fellows, carry on."
A few guys had already retrieved their hats and promptly flung them at Carter again.
"Oh, Colonel Hogan!" Kommandant Klink called to him. Klink had not received the roll call report yet. Instead he had gone to stand next to the camp well and watch as Hochstetter and a couple of his men dug a hole in the compound. Hogan walked over and sat on the ledge of the well, grateful for a rest. Klink gestured towards Hochstetter. "Look at them digging for tunnels. Making a mess and wasting time."
"Maybe he needs to earn a little overtime pay," Hogan quipped.
"Surely he realizes there are easier ways."
Hogan rolled his eyes that Klink hadn't gotten the joke. "Maybe he missed calisthenics."
"Klink!" Hochstetter suddenly screeched at him.
Klink jumped in surprise, accidentally bumping into Hogan. As Hogan felt himself tipping backwards, he reached for anything to catch himself. His groping hands only found the rope that hung down in the well which did not do much to slow his descent as it unraveled from the winch. As he fell down the length of the well, he could feel the rope slipping through his fingers and cutting deeply into his hands. "Woah!" He landed at the bottom with a splash. When his head rose above the water, he heard clamoring from above.
"Hogan! Are you alright?"
"Colonel? You okay?"
"Hang on to the rope, Sir! We'll pull you up!"
"Why don't we use the winch, you idiot."
"Hang on tight!"
He gripped the rope with his pained hands. Slowly he was tugged upwards. When he was high enough, some of his men hoisted him over the side of the well back onto dry ground.
Klink pushed his way through the crowd. "Hogan! Are you hurt?"
"Just my hands," he responded through chattering teeth. He held up his hands to show him, then looked at them in surprise himself. They looked absolutely shredded, and the blood seeping from them was incredibly warm on his frozen skin.
LeBeau, who was nearby, blanched and hurried away. "I'll get Wilson," he called over his shoulder.
"Sure you're alright, Sir?" Kinch asked from beside him. "You seem a little out of it."
"Yeah, Colonel. Your reaction was a little funny," Carter voiced from his other side.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Just really cold. I don't know how you dived under that ice water that one time, Carter," Hogan whispered. (8)
"Just focus on your own bad luck, Sir, and maybe it'll change to good luck."
The guys quickly helped him to the medical hut, and someone had the presence of mind to change him into dry clothes before they left him in Wilson's charge.
At first, the medic cleaned his wounds in silence, then he spoke quietly. "I'm sorry for losing my temper earlier, Colonel. I was out of line, I know. It's just sometimes you guys don't seem to have any heads on your shoulders." His tone quickened and his voice rose. "I mean, my job is hard enough here in the middle of a POW camp to keep everyone healthy. Then you go and pull all kinds of dangerous stunts. And the other guys follow suit." He moved to grab a vial and syringe and filled the second with the first. Then he advanced on the Colonel, waving it around as his tirade grew. "I mean, how hard is it to fetch me? I'm just across camp for Pete's sake! That's what I'm here for!" He injected the syringe aggressively. "I mean, obviously I'm here because I'm a POW, but that's not what I mean. What good am I doing here if you don't even come to me? I know you're not much of a fan of doctors or medics." He put his supplies away. "But if you won't come to me, what hope do I have of the others reporting? They follow your leadership, you know! Something very minor could become something very major because you and them avoid me like the plague!" He began wrapping Hogan's hand, none too gently. "Speaking of the plague, do you know what I have to put up with here as a medic? A whole array of diseases, malnutrition, sanitation problems, and a million other things! Remember when Nekirk had scurvy?" (9) He switched to Hogan's other hand. "On top of that, you go gallivanting around the countryside playing Kraut! I never know where any of you are, and you're out half the night! Which, by the way, lack of sleep is a big problem too!"
"Uh, Wilson…," Hogan tried to break in.
"Do you know what it's like staying awake half the night worrying if one of you is going to come back to camp needing more care than I can give!?"
"Ahem. Wilson," Hogan croaked again.
"What!?" Wilson yelled as he dropped the hand he had finished bandaging.
"What was in that shot you gave me?" he asked in a rough voice.
Wilson looked at him oddly, just now noticing that Hogan was scratching at his skin and massaging his neck. He also continually cleared his throat. "Penicillin, why?"
"Penicillin!" Hogan wheezed. "I told you the first time you treated me that I had a mild penicillin allergy!"
Wilson's face went white with shock. "Oh, no."
"Oh, yes! What now?"
"Now, we just wait."
"Wait for what?"
"For the reaction to get worse, or better," he said as he fixed his gaze on Hogan's uncontrollable scratching and massaging.
"That's your advice, 'wait'?"
"It's only a mild reaction. There's not much you can do, except rest."
"You told me I couldn't rest because of my concussion!"
"Oh. Right. Sorry, Colonel."
"Everybody's sorry! The whole camp is sorry!" Hogan ranted as he left the med hut, slamming the door.
Later, when it was close to lights out, the men from Barracks 2 as well as Helga and Wilson sat around the common room table in silence.
Hogan was the one to finally speak first. "Well that's it, now we know. Thirteen really is a cursed number, at least for me. Thirteen occasions of bad luck. My left eye, my feet, and my right eye."
LeBeau picked up where he left off. "Your nose, your stomach, and your chest."
Newkirk continued it. "Your back, your groin, and your legs."
Kinch wound it down. "Your head, your jaw, and your hands."
"And I finished it off by giving you a penicillin shot," Wilson said, smacking himself in the head.
"Sounds kind of like a song," Carter joked. "My eye, my feet, my eye…." He trailed off.
Wilson ignored him. "I knew about your allergy, so why did I give you that?"
"Don't blame yourself, Wilson. I don't blame you. Any of you guys. Except Burkhalter and Hochstetter."
"At least you made up with Helga, and Hochstetter is finally gone," Olsen tried helpfully.
The only good things that had happened today. When Fräulein Helga had heard of the well incident, she had rushed to make sure Hogan was alright. They made up easily and sealed their promise not to fight anymore with a kiss. She now stood behind him, massaging any aches away from his shoulders. And as for Hochstetter, he had been ordered to leave camp by Burkhalter, who had accidentally fallen into one of the many holes Hochstetter had made throughout the compound.
Hogan sighed. "Another day, another dollar. Although this one was hard earned. I hate to think about next Friday the 13th."
Newkirk had looked pensive until now as realization crossed his face. "'old it, Colonel!" Everyone turned to him. "What if it's not Friday the 13th that gave you bad luck?" The others looked at him funny. "Think about it. I was on my way to awaken you when Carter was nattering about Friday the 13th, and 'e said we shouldn't 'knock it'. Then I went to knock on the door, and 'it you in the eye instead."
Broughten spoke up from the back. "Just before Langenscheidt dropped his gun on your feet, Minsk told Carter to hurry up and he said he couldn't be ready 'at the drop of a hat'. I remember because they were arguing so loudly."
"I heard them arguing too," Olsen said. "It woke me up and I heard Carter say something was 'in full swing.' I went back to sleep and next thing I know, I take a swing at you, Colonel."
Hogan clapped a hand on the table when he suddenly realized something, then regretted it when it stung. Behind him, Helga gently lifted it and pressed it to her lips for a kiss. Hogan went on. "When we were in formation, Carter was talking about bad luck and he said something…'he knows it's real'. Then Schultz gets me in the nose."
"Oui, oui! Then while I'm cooking, Minsk and Carter start arguing again and Carter wants Minsk to play cards with him and he says he's not 'poison.' Then I nearly kill you with the arsenic in the eggs."
Helga leaned over to look Hogan in the face. "So that was what you meant by 'something you ate'." Hogan nodded. "Then when you were telling me the story earlier, you said Carter said something like 'don't kick a man when he's down'. Then I kicked you. And in heels, too."
Minsk clapped his hands for attention. "Then, Sir, when we were all giving Carter the death glare, he said he was going to 'take a trip' out of there. Then I trip you when you're headed for the tunnel."
"Yup. Then when Burkhalter got here, I was on my way to Klink's office and Carter said I couldn't 'hit' him." All the men looked at him in surprise. "No, I wasn't going to. Anyways, then Burkhalter hits me downstairs with the door handle."
Baker spoke up next. "I was helping Carter fix the roof and he apologized for our 'falling out'. Next, I fall off the roof and the Colonel breaks my fall with his legs."
"Then Carter says I look 'run down' and Hochstetter bulldozes me with his car."
Kinch snapped his fingers. "In your office, Carter was saying something about an uncle who had to 'have his jaw wired shut'. Then I punch you in the jaw in the tunnels."
Addison, who was next to Broughten, added to the story next. "Again, in formation Carter said two words: 'bump' and 'well'. Then the bald eagle bumps you into the well!"
"And last, but not least, I showed up just when Carter said you had a 'funny reaction'. Then you have an allergic reaction."
Newkirk finished it for them. "This all points to one sticky wicket. You, Carter!"
"Me?"
LeBeau nodded. "Yes, you. Everytime you say something, something else happens to Mon Colonel!"
"Oh, come on guys. You don't really believe that, do you?" Carter looked around at everyone's faces. "You guys were the ones who said there was no bad luck! You're all looking at me like I'm going to explode!"
"Well, I'm not staying around to find out," Hogan said, getting up abruptly. "I'm staying down in the tunnels until midnight, as far away from everyone, especially you Carter, as I can get." He hurried to the bunk entrance and all but ran to safety.
Kinch checked his watch "2330 hours. Thank goodness there's not too much time to wait."
Carter, looking dejected, went to cross off today on his calendar. "Hey, gang, look at this!"
"What now, Carter?" Minsk asked. "Haven't you caused enough problems with all your bad luck talk?"
"But that's just it! Today's not Friday the 13th!"
"What sick game are you trying to pull, Carter, cause so 'elp me…." Newkirk left his threat hanging.
"It's really not Friday the 13th! I forgot to cross off a day on my calendar. Today is really Saturday the 14th!"
"Great. Another holiday to worry about," Baker said sarcastically.
"Hold it a minute!" Kinch suddenly yelled. "Thirteen 'minor mishaps'. When's number fourteen going to happen?"
Everyone stopped talking and their eyes grew huge.
"Quick, Carter! What did you say to Mon Colonel a short time ago?" LeBeau begged.
Helga waved her hand. "I remember! He said we all looked at him like he was going to...explode." She squeaked out the last word.
Wilson jumped up. "We've got to warn him!"
"Oh, don't worry, I don't have anything down there that could explode. Except…."
"Except what, Carter?!" Olsen demanded.
"Except some firecrackers I was making for the 4th of July. They're not dangerous, just incredibly loud, especially in an enclosed tunnel."
"'e needs ears to 'ear, Carter! Let's go!" Newkirk led the race to the fake bunk and opened it hurriedly. Just as the first guy was about to drop down below, they heard a distant, but still deafening popping noise. Even in the barracks, the sound was thunderous and everyone clapped their hands over their ears.
When it went on for a good two minutes, LeBeau yanked Carter's hands from his ears. "How many did you make!?" he yelled as loudly as he could.
"It can't be too many more! It should be" the cacophony stopped "just about done!" He screamed the last words into the silent barracks.
Everyone removed their hands from their ears. "You think he's okay?" Baker asked.
"Caaaarrrrtttteeeerrrr!" Hogan screamed loud and long from the tunnel.
"Maybe he needs a minute before we check on him," Kinch said and he quickly closed the tunnel.
"Yeah. Just a minute," Carter agreed.
(1) "Es tut mir leid!"- German for "I am sorry!"
(2) "C'est fini."- French for "It is finished."
(3) From Season 1, Episode 7: German Bridge Is Falling Down.
(4) From Season 1, Episode 28: I Look Better in Basic Black.
(5) From Season 4, Episode 24: The Big Dish.
(6) In Season 1, Episode 7: German Bridge Is Falling Down, we know the heroes have already blown the Adolf Hitler Bridge once and Hogan plans to have them build in bombs after he volunteers them to reconstruct it. So I count the second bombing a success. And the Germans prided the bridge, so we figure they rebuilt it again. Thus, paving way for this third time (according to my story only, not in any episode).
(7) "Ferme la bouche, Carter."- French for "Shut your mouth, Carter."
(8) From Season 5, Episode 2: The Well.
(9) From Season 5, Episode 6: The Kommandant Dies at Dawn.
