Henry was in the infirmary, busy cleaning the space to his satisfaction while tending with his limited supplies to the wounded lieutenant. He was determined, however long or short his stay might be here, to bring this place to a level as close to sanitary as he could, having lived through as much medical history as he had he knew well the importance of this.

A few hours later this became more difficult due to the large distraction that is the men of barracks 2. "Afternoon, doc!" Newkirk greeted, leading the group of three into the building.

"Good afternoon."

"We thought we'd bring over some things. A kinda camp-warming gift." Carter said, who was carrying a covered basket which he held up.

"It's just some extra supplies from our red cross packages. And some other things." LeBeau elaborated as Henry accepted the basket from the young American.

"Thank you." Lifting the covering cloth he saw a load of basic medical supplies, which seemed to be the unused supply they had received since their internment, as well as some not so basic supplies.

"We have our connections." Newkirk said with a wry quirk of the mouth and wink. "So we're also here to offer our precious company, it can get lonely in this little place." He went over to the cot in which the lieutenant was laid up and sat down on a corner.

"Yeah liven it up a bit." Carter produced from somewhere in his overlarge coat, a wooden placard and put in on the door. He turned to show off the painted inscription, "Doc Morgan's Infirmary for the wounded and war weary", before shutting the door. Henry couldn't resist the small laugh nor the smile that the shingle drew from him.

"How you doing lieutenant? You haven't met anyone yet." LeBeau asked, joining Newkirk by the airman's cot.

"It's Gaines. Sore and immobile, other than that alright."

"Great!" Nice to meet you, I'm Carter, that's Newkirk and LeBeau!"

"Well you hang in there. Doc's got you taken care of."

"I know." Lieutenant Gaines replied, giving Henry a look that said he still hadn't forgotten the doctor's stubbornness on the plane.

"Just remember, you're British." Newkirk stated, when he continued it was in a familiar gruff drawl. "We shall not fail or falter; we shall not weaken or tire...Give us the tools and we will finish the job."

This brought a hearty laugh from Gaines, and a chuckle from everyone else. "Hey, that's good."

"I've had a lot of practice. It's come in handy too." For a while Newkirk regaled them all with his Winston Churchill impersonation, reciting everything from Shakespeare to jokes. They were all in uproarious laughter by the time they were interrupted by a knock at the infirmary door.

Henry crossed the room back to the door. "Yes?" He inquired, opening the door to reveal a rather large guard.

"Are you the doctor?" The guard asked in a moaning tone, one hand resting on his ample stomach.

"Yes. Come in." The man did so.

"Schultz what are you doing here?"

"My stomach hurts." Schultz replied.

"Have you eaten something recently?" Henry asked, noticing the crumbs still attached to the corner of the guard's mouth.

Schultz had the decency to look down ashamed as he admitted his crime. "LeBeau's apple strudel."

"Schultzi! That was for our dinner!" LeBeau accused emphatically waving his hands about.

"But it looked so good…" The sergeant whinned in defense. He groaned as his stomach let out a loud rumble. "And the blueberry pie… and the eclairs."

"Seems to me the little piggy deserves his bellyache." Carter scolded dispassionately, put out about the disappearance of their deserts.

"I'd dare say that would explain it." Henry concluded peacefully, more amazed that LeBeau had been able to create such things within even this strange prisoner of war camp than that the sergeant had managed to eat it all. "I'll be back in a moment with something for it." He then disappeared into the side room, which would have been an office if not for the distinct lack of any office-like furniture. From a cabinet he extracted a few antacids, which he had found while organizing and which he strongly suspected to have been left over from the last war. Returning with them he found havoc reigning over the room he had just left. Not only had Schultz been wrapped around the middle with bandages, giving the impression that he was wearing a great white girdle, but bandages decked the rafters and bedsteads, and in the midst of it all were his three fellow prisoners looking wholly unabashed.

"We thought the place could use a bit more cheer." Newkirk provided.

Ignoring the "decorations", Henry unwrapped Schultz with deft speed, handed him the antacids with instructions and spent the man on his way.

"You know what they say, carpi deum." The coy Englishman added, as the three began taking down the extraneous expressions of cheer.

"That's carpe diem." Henry corrected gently.

"Right." When the three left, informing the other two that evening roll call would be in two hours, all that remained of the decoration of bandages was around Gaines's cot, at his insistence, and the rafter near the entrance, in order that in LeBeau's words "everyone who enters be greeted with cheer".

In barracks 2, Hogan looked over the doctor's record, courtesy of London, again. Kinch was right it was nothing to sneeze at, it seemed impossible that the man was so unknown. He had escaped seven POW camps, by unknown means. And by all accounts, he was a master physician and surgeon even under the most primitive conditions. Additionally he'd survived being thought dead on multiple occasions. Morgan would be the perfect man for this mission, if it weren't risking a doctor so valuable to the Allies. And yet… perhaps it was time to consult the old sawbones himself.

The next morning, before roll call, Hogan walked over to the infirmary, knocking just below Carter's sign. The doctor opened the door, since his arrival he'd taken up residence in the building instead of a place in the barracks. "Colonel, do you need something?"

"Was hoping for a chat."

"Come in." Henry led the colonel to a pair of empty cots, the doctor took a seat on one that's pillow was all that showed sign that he had earlier vacated that very space. Hogan sat down on the one next to it facing the other man. "What did you want to discuss?" He asked interlocking his fingers in front of him.

Hogan looked over at the wounded man in cot across the room to make sure he was asleep before he spoke. "You know what we do here?"

"Yes, I believe we established that the day of my arrival."

"The day before you came we got an assignment from London. Top priority but it's been causing some trouble. One part is partially blowing up a building, but the other part is the dangerous one. We need to have someone inside that building, disclosing fake medical information to the Germans."

"Questionably elaborate, as usual."

"You can see how you would be a perfect candidate. But there's the little problematic possibility of it being a suicide mission. This isn't your assignment, you don't have to do this."

"I'll do it." Henry stated, as certain as he could make it sound. He risked nothing by accepting, all the others risked their lives. And if he did not survive it allowed him a perfect opportunity for escape.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. As Kinchloe said, no one else has medical knowledge, which will be necessary if you wish to fool other medical professionals."

"OK. When you make it back, we'll get you back to England so you can return to your actual assignment. Which we would've done anyway."

"What about Colonel Klink's perfect record?"

"Schultz will take care of any inconsistent roll counts." He then motioned through, hear-no-evil, see-no-evil, speak-no-evil. "This is all top secret, you understand."

"I'm very good at keeping secrets, Colonel, I assure you."

"I don't doubt it. Come by the barracks later and we'll all fill you on your mission." Henry nodded his understanding and Hogan got up to leave. "Nice sign." He commented at the open door.

"Yes, I rather like it." Henry said with a smile and jovial tone.