I can't remember if the Gestapo have actual ranks, but they do now. This is it, last chapter, I hope you enjoy.
"How's it look outside, Newkirk?"
"A bit better than it was before, sir. Two guards patrolling out near the exit, I'd say about ten seconds between each pass. If we time it right, we can slip by when they're not looking. Down periscope."
"Sounds like getting out of here should be doable," Hogan said. "Alright fellas, let's run this mission by one more time. Richter left us his car parked out in the woods by Hammelburg road, we take that into town and break Carter out. Kinch, you're monitoring any calls that come in or out, and on radio backup in case something goes south."
I just hope nothing does. The plan sounded simple enough, but his mind was already buzzing with several dozen ways it could go wrong, and a dozen more workarounds in case it did.
"Weapons check?"
"All tested and loaded. They're working fine," Lebeau reported.
"And I fitted all the uniforms with our papers," Newkirk said.
"Good, sounds like we're set to go." Hogan went to climb the ladder before instead turning to face Newkirk and Lebeau, dressed in their neatly pressed Gestapo uniforms. "And one last thing. This mission is dangerous, we're walking right into Gestapo headquarters. One slip up could mean the firing squad for all of us and put a lot of people in danger. As always for these, this is a strictly volunteer mission."
It wasn't often they had a mission that involved saving one of their own, and they were on the bottom of the list of ones Hogan wanted to assign, if only because they were usually the most dangerous (and most of all because it meant one of his men was in trouble). When he looked between the three remaining men of his core team, however, he only saw fierce determination, ready to put their lives at risk.
Their response was never anything different.
"It's already been two days, Colonel," Lebeau said. "We can't let the Gestapo keep Carter a minute longer."
"I've been ready Guv'nor, let's go," Newkirk added.
"Sounds good. Let's get Carter out of there."
Kinch kept one hand on the phone cord as he drummed the fingers of his other, his gaze glancing back to his station every few minutes. The switchboard was currently black and the radio was quiet, but any moment it could light up with an incoming call.
He could hear the distant voices of Baker and Foster who were currently lining the tunnel leading to the emergency exit with the spare explosives Carter kept in his lab. It was the worst case scenario that none of them ever wanted to have to come down to, but Hogan had ordered it regardless...
"Hey Kinch, what was the time the Colonel gave if they don't come back?" Baker asked, coming up to grab more wire.
"0300 hours we start evacuating the barracks, we leave camp at 0430 hours and blow the tunnels."
It left them with a little over four hours to finish and make it back. Plenty of time for their usual assignments that involved meetings, escorts, and the occasional sabotage, but this time they were dealing directly with the Gestapo. And with the extra patrols Klink still had around the camp, and then God forbid if they ran into trouble... Kinch only hoped they would return soon without anything happening.
They'll make it back to camp okay, Kinch told himself, and they'd bring Carter back with them as well. Alive.
Hogan wrung his hands together when Newkirk parked and shut off the car, running the plan over through his head for the thousandth time that night.
"Okay, let's run this by one more time. We get in there, grab Carter, and get out of there as quickly as we can while making it look believable," he said, looking up at the warehouse turned makeshift Gestapo hideout. It was too nondescript for the horrors of what he knew happened inside; the thought made him shudder. "I want this to be simple and straight forward, no trouble, we can't afford it."
"I've already got the Gestapo orders forged and right here in case we need 'em, Colonel," Newkirk said as he patted his breast coat. "Signed by General Kinchmeyer himself."
"And we have Kinch on radio stand by back at camp in case we need backup," Lebeau said.
"Let's get Andrew out of there," Newkirk said, a fierce look on his face. "It's been too long already."
"Alright," Hogan said with a tight smile, his gaze shifting between his two men as they wore similar expressions. "Newkirk, Lebeau, let's go. We stay together unless I say otherwise. Remember this is the Gestapo we're dealing with, the nastiest of the bunch."
Newkirk got out of the car first, opening the door for Hogan who was in the back seat as Lebeau joined them from the other side. Straightening his greatcoat, the Colonel pulled his chest up to match the part of the Gestapo interrogator he was playing. They only had one shot at this, and if they messed up, it wasn't just Carter's life on the line tonight.
But right now Carter's life still depended on them, so they had to do it right.
"Colonel Schneider, Heil Hitler," Hogan said, approaching the guard at the doorway with an air of impatient indifference as he threw his arm forward in a salute. Lebeau and Newkirk stood behind him on each side as two Captains following his orders. "We have orders to pick up the prisoner and take him to Berlin at once."
"The prisoner?" The guard questioned with a raised brow. "How-"
"I don't want to hear it. I need to be in Berlin by morning and would like to make this quick," Hogan snapped, cutting him off. "I have heard nothing of your interrogation report since you've picked him up, and I am disappointed."
"My apologies, Colonel. He has not spoken a word," the guard said, relaxing slightly. Good, Hogan thought, although he didn't relax himself. He seems to believe me so far. And Carter hasn't talked either.
"I will assure you he will talk when we take him back to Berlin. Where is he located?"
"On the bottom floor. It's where we keep them while they're questioned."
"Danke. Guten abend, Corporal. Heil Hitler," Hogan said, brushing past the guard and opening the door. Luckily the guard didn't protest as they entered the building, Hogan ushering in his men and shutting the door behind them.
Spotting the small stairwell leading into the bottom basement room, he jerked his head for them to follow as he scanned warily around in case someone was watching in. Takes a spy to know a spy, he thought, but it only reminded him of the dangerous job they were doing. Hogan could feel the chill in air grow as they descended down the stairs, although he wasn't sure if it was from the growing anxiety from the mission, the colder temperature, or from the knowledge of what he knew happened down there.
The hallway was surprisingly empty when they reached the bottom; instead finding a small row of prison cells. Only one of the doors was closed, which Hogan approached and gave a sharp bellow to come out. A moment later a gruff looking Captain came through, bringing an air of annoyance with him as he looked the three of them over, and closed the cell door before Hogan even got a chance to see inside.
Looking down Hogan noticed, with a mix of disgust and horror, that his hands were stained with blood.
"Can I help you, Colonel..."
"Schnieder," Hogan finished, acting as if the very thought of not knowing his name was an insult. "And yes, you can certainly help me. We are here to escort this prisoner to Berlin immediately for further questioning."
Unlike the guard outside, the Captain was skeptical, giving the three of them a once over. "An escort? I did not hear anything about an escort, Colonel."
Hogan kept his voice even, his cool gaze not leaving the Sergeant's. "Sounds like you didn't get the memo, there's been a change of plans." Holding his hand out, Newkirk passed him the forged papers which he then shoved into the man's hand. "Headquarters is very unhappy to hear there have been no results, and demand the prisoner be brought back immediately. Do you really think I would travel several hours all the way from Berlin for a social call?"
His eyes skimmed over the papers, apparently satisfactory enough even though the scowl didn't completely leave his face, as he pulled the key from his utility belt. Hogan snatched it as soon as it was within reach, partially playing the character of impatience, but mostly because he wanted to hurry up and get Carter out of there.
The tangy and thick smell of copper that instantly hit his nose as soon as Hogan stepped into the tiny prison room made him falter for a split second before he recovered; his eyes instantly focused on the slumped over figure in the middle of the room. Carter. Hogan recognized him more by general shape and size of the figure than actual physical features, his body too beaten to easily identify at first, but there was no doubt it was his young Sergeant.
This wasn't an interrogation, this is straight up torture. Good God, what the hell did they do to this boy... A quick glance back at his men showed horrific expressions that matched what he felt. Lebeau let out a weak whimper from next to him, before Hogan quickly silenced him with a firm hand on his upper arm.
"You know what to do," Hogan whispered quietly as he shut the door behind them, gesturing his hands around in a wide sweep around the room. Newkirk and Lebeau immediately got to work, feeling every crack, crevice, and object in the room for any kind of listening or bug device. They needed to get Carter out as soon as possible, and a plant would only hamper their situation and delay time they could not afford.
Finally, after what felt like several long moments, Newkirk let go of the overhead lamp, shaking his head. "All clear Colonel, didn't find a thing."
With Newkirk's affirmation, Hogan immediately kneeled down next to Carter and placed two fingers against his neck, and after a long moment felt the quick and thready pulse underneath. He nodded to his men as he sighed in relief, all of them visibly relaxing as their worst fear was proven false. "Oh Carter..."
Newkirk wasted no time in looking Carter over before Hogan could even give the order, his jaw clenched as he grit his teeth in suppressed anger. The evidence of rough torture was apparent.
"Just hold on a little while longer, Andrew. We'll get you out of here." Hogan noticed, with dismay and growing worry, that Carter had yet to wake up, not responding when he tried to rouse him with a tap to his face. And as much as he didn't want to see him in any pain (though from the shadowed expression on his face, he was probably feeling it even while unconscious), he had at least hoped he could get the younger man to wake up a little bit.
"He's been through some kind of Hell. Bloody bastards, the whole lot of 'em," Newkirk said as he began to work the bindings that held Carter to the chair. "I think we got here just in time, don't think he would've held on much longer."
"Ces animaux. Disgusting, rotten Krauts. I feel sick even pretending to be someone who would do this," Lebeau spat. Despite looking almost green in the face, he squeezed his eyes shut and pushed through his dislike of blood, catching Carter when the wires were cut free.
"Right there with ya, Louis." Newkirk shook his head as he threw the wire to the side and wiped his hands off on his pants. Hogan glanced over at the discarded metal, and instantly wished he hadn't. "I'll burn these uniforms when we get back to camp, you can ruddy bet on that."
"Alright, alright," he said, bringing his team back to focus on the task on hand. He was just as angry as they were, if not even more, but Carter came first. "We don't have a lot of time, so let's get Carter out of here now and back to camp."
Voices. They were muffled, sounding almost like they were underwater(why was he underwater? He couldn't swim), and were too unclear to make out the words or who they might've been.
Something was off, Carter realized, as he slowly came to. No longer was he soaking wet sitting in a cold and hard backed chair, and gone were the cold and biting wires that dug into his wrists. Instead he was lying down on something soft and dry, with something warm draped on top of him. It was... comforting, almost. A blanket? Why would the Germans give him one of those?
I'm not... Am I dead?
Blinking his eyes open, his vision was too blurry to make out any definite shapes in the dim light, but he could just make out the gut wrenching familiarity of colors. Black, with just a hint of red. Oh God. What are they going to do to me? He breathing started to quicken as he realized his grim predicament; he had to get away, he couldn't take much more, they'd break him before long and he couldn't do that to his friends. Figures hovered above him, what felt like hands pressing on his shoulders, holding him down and ready to torture him some more. Panicking, he started to struggle even harder, fighting to get away-
"Andrew, Andrew, it's okay, stop fighting. Just slow your breathing and you'll calm down."
The voice was commanding, soothing and somehow familiar, and Carter found himself doing just what it said.
"Deep breaths Andrew, in through the nose, out through the mouth. There we go. Keep breathing, just take it easy, it'll be okay."
Closing his eyes as he listened to the voice, Carter managed to calm his breathing after a few moments. The adrenaline rush was starting to wear off, leaving him exhausted and drained, barely able to move. Mustering up the strength to open his eyes back up, he blinked several times to clear his vision and met the warm brown eyes of the Colonel, who was looking down at him with a mix of relief and concern. Lebeau was crouched next to Hogan with a similar expression as he fixed the blanket that Carter had pushed off earlier in his struggle. It was then he realized he was no longer in that dreaded prison cell, but instead stretched out in the back seat of a car. Newkirk looked back at him from the rear view mirror, and even from the little bit he could see in his reflection, Carter noticed he wasn't even trying to hide the worry on his face.
So he was actually out of there. He'd pinch himself to see if he was dreaming, but the pain was more than enough to prove he was awake. "C-Colonel Hogan?" His voice sounded thin, raspy, and unlike himself that Carter had a hard time believing it was himself who spoke.
"I'm right here," Hogan said. "Don't worry, you're out of there now."
"You were gone for two days, we thought..." A shadow passed over Lebeau's face. "We're glad to have you back."
Two days. It had felt like an eternity. During his less lucid moments on the edge of consciousness near the end, he had thought he was going to die there. "How..." The words died on his lips, his throat too parched to continue. He hadn't had water in days.
"You need to drink something, you must be thirsty. Here you go, mon ami," Lebeau said, gently lifting his head as he held a canteen to his lips. As soon as Carter tasted the cool water he realized just how thirsty he actually was, his hand moving to tilt the canteen to a higher angle before it was pushed back down. He instinctively started to panic again before Lebeau spoke again. "Easy Andre, don't drink it too fast or you'll make yourself sick."
Taking the canteen from Lebeau when Carter was too tired to drink any more, Hogan dabbed a cloth with water and with a gentle hand, started to clean his face.
"I didn't-" Carter swallowed thickly, his mouth still dry despite drinking more than half the canteen of water. He needed to tell the Colonel, he needed to know. Reaching forward to grasp at Hogan's sleeve with his other hand, he let out a hiss of pain when a sharp jolt shot up his injured arm as he extended it.
"Just lie still, Carter," Hogan said, placing a gentle hand on his arm as he guided it back down. Risking a glance at it, Carter felt his stomach churn when he saw the cutting marks on his wrist, and then worsen when he caught just how the deep and grisly the wound on his arm was. He regretted even looking down; no wonder it had hurt practically nonstop. His grimace did not go unnoticed by Hogan, whose eyes followed his gaze before looking back up at Carter. "Don't worry, we'll be back to camp soon. Wilson will give you the good stuff and you'll be better in no time."
"I-I didn't talk," Carter rasped, struggling to speak as his strength started to quickly wane. He wasn't sure why Hogan's face faltered for a moment, before the tight smile returned almost as quickly. "I didn't say anything, sir, I-I... I didn't..."
"It's okay Carter, I know," Hogan said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You did good Sergeant, you kept our operation safe. Don't worry, we'll take care of everything from here."
Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he was vaguely aware of a blanket being tucked in tighter around him, and was out with the feeling that he was finally safe for the first time in days.
Fin. I hope I did justice for the buildup over the past four chapters. I debated about continuing on for a few more while Carter is finally back at camp, but ultimately I felt this was where I wanted it to end. They finally find Carter after two days of grieving/worrying about him, and Carter's finally safe, and I wanted to end it with that little piece of relief.