Chapter 5
It was still early morning when they found themselves at Murphy's house, knocking on the front door. Hannibal hoped he was home. He looked over at the car and was pleased to see it was hidden from the street, due thanks to the trees that lined the long driveway.
Hannibal was just about to knock again when the door opened. In the doorway stood an older man, slightly shorter than Hannibal with steel grey hair and green eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt that read "Army" and a pair of well-worn running shorts. He stared at
the three of them for a moment, without recognition, but then he smiled.
"Hannibal Smith?" He said. "Damn. How long has it been?" He reached out to shake his friend's hand, then he moved to the side to invite them in.
"Almost twenty years," Hannibal responded with a grin. The three of them stepped inside and closed the door.
"Well, what brings you this way? Last I heard you were over in Vietnam." He eyed the three of them, beginning to see the tension in their eyes.
"It's a long story, Matt," Hannibal began. "But first, let me introduce you to my team. This is my Lieutenant Templeton Peck and my Sergeant, BA Baracus."
"Well, nice to meet you." They all shook hands, and Matt motioned them towards the kitchen. "Can I offer you some coffee? I just made a fresh pot."
"That'd be great," Hannibal replied, and Face nodded, following Matt into the kitchen. The three men sat down at the small kitchen table while Matt got down 3 coffee mugs from the cabinet. BA eyed the fridge. "Don't drink coffee. Got any milk?" He asked.
"Milk, huh? I think I may have some." Matt finished pouring two mugs of coffee, then poured BA's milk. He brought the mugs over to the table and sat down.
"Alright." Matt sat back in his chair and took a look at each of them. His experience commanding troops had not left him, despite his retirement. BA and Face could feel it in his expression. "Something's up." He looked at Hannibal to speak for the group. "Mind telling me why you're knocking on my door at this time of the morning after all these years?"
"I'm not going to lie to you, Matt. We're in trouble. Under orders, we robbed a bank in Nam and now the army is going to court-martial us for it. So we broke out of the stockade at Fort Bragg and we're on the run. We need a place to lay low for a few days. I was hoping you'd let us stay here." Hannibal prided himself in his self-sufficiency and hated having to ask for shelter for his men. But under the circumstances, he had little choice. Motels were too risky until they had better disguises.
Matt looked at the three of them. The two soldiers with Hannibal were young, but looked old beyond their years. In fact, they reminded him of Hannibal in Korea, when he was their age. And if they were Hannibal's men, they were most certainly competent
soldiers, and good men. He wouldn't have it any other way.
"OK, you can stay here for a little while." Matt said. He wanted to ask other questions, but he knew this wasn't the time. He would hear the whole story later.
"We need to get rid of the car." BA reminded Hannibal. The longer they sat here with that hot car outside, the more danger they were putting themselves and Matt in.
"There's an apartment building with a large parking garage about 15 minutes from here." Matt said. "You could follow me in my car and leave it there."
"Works for me." BA said, getting up from the table. "I'll go change clothes."
Moments later, BA emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of navy pants, a baseball hat, and a too-small t-shirt that read "mama's boy." Hannibal and Face tried to suppress their grins, but failed miserably.
"Hey- I think Murdock does have a sense of style after all," Face quipped. "He's sure got you pegged, BA."
"Wait till you see what he had picked out for you, Face." Hannibal replied, with a grin of his own.
"Ok, let's go" Matt said. "Hannibal- there are plenty of eggs in the fridge. Feel free to whip up breakfast while we're gone."
The trip to the garage to dump the car was uneventful, and they were back at the house in 30 minutes. They opened the door to the smells of hot bacon sizzling and more coffee brewing.
"How did it go?" Hannibal questioned.
"Fine. Not many people out this early on a Saturday morning." BA replied.
They sat down to eat without much talking. BA, Hannibal and Face were extremely hungry and focused on breakfast. They had only eaten a meager dinner the night before, and the break out made it feel like a million years since then. Matt turned on the TV to keep an eye on the news while they ate breakfast. It wasn't very long before national news and weather gave way to a breaking news report.
The men all froze as they watched the team's pictures materialize on the set. The food BA and Face had eaten felt like it had turned into a stone in their stomachs at seeing their names and descriptions flashed on the news. A woman, whose voice they'd never forget, began to read. ". . .First Lieutenant, Templeton Peck, Sergeant Bosco BA Baracus, and their commanding officer, Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith pulled off a daring escape from the Ft. Bragg stockade last night. A manhunt has begun from North Carolina to Georgia for the three fugitives, who should be considered armed and dangerous."
"Well, that plan worked beautifully." Hannibal said, smiling at BA and Face. It took all he had left in him to seem completely unconcerned. "It will take them a while to realize Atlanta is in the wrong direction--and by that time we'll be gone."
"I hope it works out like you think, Hannibal." BA said, getting up from the table and beginning to clean up the dishes. He wondered if his mother had seen the news reports. She probably had. He would have to find some way to get in touch with her soon.
"Here- let me get those. You must be tired." Matt said, taking the dishes from BA. "And I have two spare bedrooms as well. It looks like you could all use some rest."
"Thanks." BA said, letting Matt set the dishes to the side and show him back to a room furnished with two twin beds. He was too tired to try and argue.
Face turned to look at Hannibal before he followed BA. Hannibal looked tired and old beyond his years. "It was a good plan." He said, eyeing Hannibal and gauging the expression in his eyes.
His commander ran a hand over his face, and through his hair and suddenly the look was gone. Same old Hannibal. Same sure grin, same expression of confidence. "Thanks, kid," he replied. "Go get some sleep, and that's an order."
Face started to ask Hannibal if he was okay, but something in his commander's demeanor made him decide to drop it. He went back into the guest room and found that BA was already asleep, or appeared to be. As the young lieutenant kicked off his
shoes and lay back on the bed, he thought about the man who had been his commander for the past several years. He thought he knew Hannibal well, but times like this reminded him of just how much distance remained between a leader and the men under his command. Sometimes he felt like he knew every nuance of the man, only to find
him turn into an enigma in the space of mere seconds.
But for a moment, he felt like he had seen past the mask of assurance that Hannibal kept carefully in place at all times. There was worry there and something else that Face couldn't put a finger on. Something about the way he'd called him 'kid.' Hannibal had
called him that before, but . . .this time it was different. Less like a nickname, more like… family. Or at least what he thought family would be like. He found himself trying to follow the thread of this new discovery when he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
"I'd give you an order to get some sleep, Hannibal, but I don't think you'd follow it." Matt came from the back, where he'd been straightening up the other guest room for Hannibal. He left the dishes for a moment, poured both of them another cup of coffee and
sat down at the kitchen table across from the man he'd commanded so long ago.
The younger man looked up, finally able to let the facade of confidence drop. He hadn't realized that keeping up appearances was taking such a toll on him. "I don't think I could sleep, not just yet, Matt," he replied. He shook his head as he looked down at the
coffee in his cup. It was as mysteriously dark as the team's future.
Matt sat back, thinking of how best to start this conversation. It was obvious his friend needed to talk to someone, but he wasn't sure what to say or where to begin. "You've changed a lot from that young kid that joined my unit," he said, propping his feet up in the chair next to him. "You look a hell of a lot older," he grinned.
"Feel it too." Hannibal replied. He was only forty-four, but he felt as if he were ancient. He glanced up at Matt, trying to think of a way to explain all that he'd been through since they had last seen each other. Mercifully, he found he didn't need to. Like
always, Matt would just understand, no matter what he said or didn't say. That was the kind of commander that Hannibal had always wanted to be, the kind of leader that his men would put their trust in.
"Alright. So talk, then, if you can't sleep. Tell me what's happened." Matt said.
As Hannibal told the story of the Hanoi bank job, the team's imprisonment and the death of Colonel Morrison, Matt realized just how bad his position had been. The story of both
breakout attempts was amazing. Matt found himself wishing he could have seen them firsthand. Once he finished relating the events of the past few days, Hannibal looked at Matt as if to measure his reaction to the whole thing.
"I can't judge you," Matt began, "and it's not my place to do that anyway." The older man was suddenly thankful that he had not had to make such a decision.
"I have a feeling I've made a mistake." Hannibal said. He closed his eyes, and tried to see it all clearly in his mind, the way he did when devising a strategy for getting into or out of a situation. . Usually, everything fell into place, like chess pieces on a game board. What he'd come to think of as seeing "the plan" was like streaks of light in his mind that connected all the possibilities and mapped out the best path to take. He'd been told he had a gift for strategy, ever since he was a kid, but it seemed like the gift had left him, for the time being. The jazz just wasn't there.
"What's going to happen if we get caught?" Hannibal spoke softly. "I never wanted this for them. They're young. They have their whole lives ahead of them." His eyes met Matt's own. "I can't help thinking there was another way out of this. Damned if I can see it, though."
"Hannibal, if you can't see a possibility then it just isn't there." Matt took a thoughtful sip from his coffee. "Half the guys in HQ in Korea used your ideas during Incheon because you were so good at seeing possibilities."
It was well known in Korea that Matt had a tactical genius in his unit, and half the time, he'd had to loan Hannibal out so that the guys in HQ could pick his brain. In fact, that was how Hannibal had picked up his nickname. The historical Hannibal was the father of strategy and tactics, and once his men had overheard an officer from HQ jokingly call John Hannibal', they all began calling him that. The name had stuck.
"If you didn't see another way out, there just wasn't one." Matt looked at him seriously. "What's got you second guessing yourself like this?"
Hannibal shook his head, then stood up and walked to the kitchen window. The fantastic streaks of light they'd seen at sunrise had long since faded, and now the day was overcast and grey. "I don't know," he murmured. "I guess I've just gotten too close. They're just
kids, Matt. . ." he trailed off, then turned to face his friend again, "and I can't help worrying about them. Feeling responsible."
"Yeah?" Matt asked, a slight smile touching his features. He'd fought this battle before and lost, just as Hannibal had. "So who hasn't felt responsible for their men? You aren't human if you don't care about em. Screw all that stuff they tell you in training. Most of those guys never went into the field anyway." Matt pointed a finger at Hannibal. "You'll cease to be an effective leader the minute you begin to hesitate from self-doubt. So just don't do it," he warned. "Those men back there are depending on you to lead them. Right or wrong, you'll do what you think is best. That's the only thing you can do."
To be continued…