Chapter 1:
Newkirk lay a card down on the table as he took a drag on his cigarette. He picked up a card from the deck, carefully placed it in his hand, then lifted his eyes to Carter and LeBeau, who sat across from him with their own hands. "Alright Louis, it's your turn," the Englishman said, putting the cigarette back into his mouth.
As LeBeau searched for his next weapon, Carter looked curiously at his best friend, particularly at his stick of tobacco. "Hey, Newkirk," he said. "Give me one of them to try."
Newkirk took his cigarette out of his mouth and stared at the young sergeant as if he had just grown a second head. "You," he remarked. "You're gonna smoke a cigarette."
"Oh, come on, buddy. You do it all the time. I mean, how hard could it be?"
Newkirk stared at Carter for a long while, internally debating whether or not his friend could handle a thing like tobacco. It had taken the corporal six months himself to get used to cigarettes when he first tried them out. Coming to the realization Carter would not drop the matter, he reluctantly pulled out a new cigarette, lit it, then carefully handed it to Carter. "Alright, mate," he said. "But don't say I didn't warn yah."
The technical sergeant put the cigarette in his mouth, inhaled, and his eyes widened in horror. He yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and began coughing and hacking furiously, his face turning a light shade of pink from how hard he was coughing. He wiped his hand across his mouth and looked at the stick of tobacco in between his fingers with disgust. "Uck," he whined, then looked up at Newkirk with an angry expression. "Hey, gee Newkirk, what gives? I thought we were friends here, and you go and give me some defective cigarette to try and kill me."
"It ain't defective, Andrew, that's everybody on their first try. Took me six months to get used to cigarettes before I quit coughing and hacking," Newkirk answered. "You're just lucky I didn't go and give yah a cigar."
LeBeau turned to his left and looked quizzically at the cigarette in Carter's hand. "Give me that," he said, gesturing with his finger in his direction. "I wanna try it."
Carter graciously handed over the stick to LeBeau, who put the cigarette in his mouth and took a slow breath in before instantly regretting it. He yanked it out of his mouth and, like Carter, began coughing and hacking as if he had a bad case of bronchitis. "Blech," he exclaimed. "And they expect people to smoke this?!" The Frenchman lifted his gaze to Newkirk. "How do you and Kinch do it without choking on cette poubelle?" (1)
"Believe me, mates, Kinch and I had our fair share of coughing and choking before growing immune to this stuff," Newkirk answered, lying another card down on the table.
Carter grimaced as he could still taste the crud in his mouth. He stuck his tongue out before rising to his feet. "Uh, I need a cup of water," he said, making his way to the sink.
"I need about eight." LeBeau commented, throwing the cigarette down onto the ground and stomping on it to put it out.
Carter was just returning to the table as the fake bunk came open, and Kinch crawled up from underneath the tunnels into the barracks. He closed the secret entrance shut and approached the group of three with two sheets of paper gripped tightly in his hand, his expression holding outrage and disbelief. "Either this is the sickest joke ever made, or London's gone as crazy as Lincoln's wife did," he said.
"What'd they order now? Another panzer division distraction? Highly guarded Luftwaffe airport to be bombed? A Hitler impersonation?" Newkirk asked nonchalantly.
Kinch handed over the first sheet of notepad paper to the Englishman, who read over it quickly before shooting out of his seat with eyes almost ready to fall out of his head. "KILL THE COLONEL?!"
"WHAT?!" Carter and LeBeau exclaimed, joining the duo's sides.
"Either London's bloody balmy, or they've become just as crooked as them no good Krauts are!" Newkirk added.
"What do they mean 'Kill mon Colonel'? Kill him for what?" LeBeau demanded, crossing his arms in a huff.
Kinch handed the second note over to the small corporal and watched as his eyes widened in horror. "Suspected of being a double agent?!" He cried.
"That's just downright disgusting! How could they think Colonel Hogan's a double agent? That's like Burkhalter putting on a dress and singing 'Over the Rainbow'," Carter said, appalled.
Kinch seemed to go into a brief state of shock before answering. "One, thank you for the nightmares I'll be having tonight. Two, your guess is as good as mine."
"I say you radio back London at this very moment and tell them to va te faire foutre," LeBeau spat angrily. (2)
"Va tay who?" Carter questioned.
"Forget it," Newkirk said.
"I can't, Louis. I don't even know who in London sent this message. Came in on a different frequency, too, so I assume it came from Secret Intelligence. Trying to find out who sent this message would be like trying to find a needle in New York City," Kinch answered, trying to remain calm for everyone else, but was having difficulties when he was just as raging mad as his friends were.
"The Gov'nor a double agent?" Newkirk asked, to no one in particular. "That's bloody balmy. That's ludicrousy. He wouldn't be. He couldn't be...could he?"
"How can you say such a thing?!" LeBeau replied.
"Colonel Hogan'd never turn against us!" Carter added.
"I ain't saying he is, I'm just wondering. What if the Krauts offered him something he'd be a bloomin' blockhead not to take in exchange? To go home and not have to fight for the rest of the war or something," Newkirk said, trying to quickly defend himself. He did not want to think of the idea either, and he was certain that Hogan would never be a traitor to the Allies, but what if he was? Was there something out there so enticing that even Hogan would abandon his moral values for?
"Colonel Hogan would never take such an offer. No matter how tempting it may be," LeBeau said, full of defensiveness.
"What do we do, Kinch?" Carter asked, ignoring the two corporals beside him.
"Well first off, we're definitely not going through with these orders," Kinch answered, crumbling both pieces of paper into a ball and stuffing it into his inner jacket pocket. "Anybody that believes the Colonel's a traitor is either a Kraut themselves or someone that just jumped off the deep end."
"But what do we do about…" Carter never got to finish his thought, as he was interrupted by the bellowing of Sergeant Hans Schultz from outside.
"Roll call! Everybody out for roll call!"
"How can we have roll call at a time like this?" LeBeau asked, his tone full of glum and minor disgust.
"Come on, guys," Kinch said, gesturing with his head to the door. "The sooner we have roll call, the sooner we can get back to what really matters."
Reluctantly, the three flyers followed the staff sergeant out of barracks two, and the prisoners were lined up outside the building in their usual lines of two, Hogan being the last one to come out. The colonel stood straight and tall, taking his usual stance as the brave, heroic officer that he had become known as among his men. It was then his ears picked up on something...or nothing, for that matter. Not a single noise was made from the men he was responsible for. Not even the usual rustle of the prisoners moving to different spots in line to mess up Schultz's count. They were all as quiet as stone. No wise cracks, no jokes, just pure silence.
Hogan raised his eyebrow in suspicion and turned his brown eyes to the side Newkirk was on. He was about to turn his body to him and ask what was going on, when the sound of a door closing and a familiar voice rang throughout the compound.
"Schultz! Report!" Klink called, accompanied by his 15 year old daughter, Kalina. A gentle, beloved girl to her papa, and a clever witted, intellectual member of Hogan's team taking down her country's regime one assignment at a time. She loved Kinch, Carter, Newkirk, and LeBeau as the big brothers she never got to have, and Hogan had pretty much become her second father. Someone she idolized, respected, and dearly adored. If there was anyone she loved as much as her father, it was without a doubt the man she considered her second papa.
Schultz saluted both Klinks and received the same gesture in return. "Herr Kommandant, Fraulein Kommandant, all prisoners present and accounted for," the fluffy sergeant reported with glee.
"Excellent, Schultz," Klink answered, grinning like a baboon.
After that, Hogan had lost complete track as to what the kommandant was so giddy about. He found Kalina's gaze and stared at her skeptically. He raised his eyebrow again, turned briefly to Newkirk, then gestured with his head in the direction of his core unit.
Understanding his question, Kalina simply shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, not having the slightest idea either on why they were all so quiet tonight. Not even the casual jab at her father and the Germans was to be heard from any of them. Something was definitely off here, and Hogan and Kalina were more than determined to find out what that something was. Something big had to have happened in order for the prisoners to be so dangerously still. Something huge. Something so detrimental that it had to be worth even the slightest bit of concern.
Hogan watched her for a moment longer, cautiously looking for any sign of lying in her little blue eyes. Finding none, the colonel turned his eyes back to his German counterpart, who had just finished whatever monotonous speech it was he had given tonight.
"Schultz, dismiss the prisoners," Klink said, snapping his attention to his senior sergeant.
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz answered, with a firm salute. Klink gave him one in return, then turned his eyes back to Hogan.
"Colonel Hogan, I'd like to see you in my office, please." Klink added, sounding much more like an order than a request.
As the kommandant turned on his boots and made his way back to his office, the prisoners disbursed back to their nightly routine as Hogan joined Kalina, who was about to take off after her father. The colonel gently tapped her on the shoulder to grab her attention, then firmly gestured his head towards the barracks with his finger pointing in the same direction. It was no question. He wanted to know what was going on with his men, and he wanted her to find out for him before coming back from Klink's office. He was not angry, but his usual friendly, chocolate brown eyes displayed a fierceness Kalina and Hogan's men only ever saw when he meant dead business.
Without any questions, Kalina nodded, saluted Hogan, then made her way to barracks two to follow her orders. She grabbed the door knob to the small hut, then looked back once more. Hogan was already on his way to her father's office, not even sparing her another look. She briefly gazed down at her black flats with a frown, let out a depressed sigh, then opened the door and walked inside. She already knew that whatever she was about to learn was something she would have rather spent the rest of her life without knowing.
(1) Cette poubelle - This trash
(2) Va te faire foutre - Kiss my a**