Sorry for the long delays between chapters!

As always, mistakes are all mine as I can't help but play with the chapter after Marilyn's looked it over. I can't thank her enough for her help!

Chapter 30

The voices coming from the locker room took Hogan by surprise. At oh-three hundred, most of his men were usually asleep in their bunks, not hanging out in the tunnels.

Wondering what the hubbub was about, he padded silently to the corner and peeked around the support beam. Seeing the large flock of mother hens roosting inside the locker room brought a smile to his face. It quickly faded when a thought suddenly occurred to him. Such a gathering would have provoked only resentment and anger from him just days before.

Smoothing the frown from his face, Hogan backed a short distance down the tunnel, then moved forward again at a brisk walk. The men spotted him as soon as he turned the corner, their smiles and hearty greetings warming him.

"Hey, fellas." He spotted an empty chair and headed for it, hoping he did not look as tired as he felt. Despite his impromptu nap at the Metzger's, his energy was circling the drain fast. Straddling the chair, he folded his arms across its back and looked from man to man with interest.

"Anybody find the transmitter?"

"We did, Colonel." Paxton draped an arm across Braveheart's shoulders. "It was smack in the middle of our search grid."

"That wasn't the only thing found tonight," Benson said, aiming a mischief-filled glance past Tivoli at Carter and Olsen. Tivoli's elbow dug into his ribs while groans and muttering sounded throughout the room. Kinch thrust a hand into the air, irritation sharpening his voice.

"Don't start that again."

Hogan frowned. "Start what?"

"Nothing," Newkirk shot back with restrained passion. "Best to just move on, Colonel."

Hogan considered Newkirk's exasperation and Kinch's pained look and decided to follow the advice. The sooner they ended this, the sooner they all could get their rest.

"Did you have any trouble?"

"No, sir," Paxton said, shaking his head. "We took a good look around, then got out of there like you ordered."

Braveheart turned toward a map hung on the wall and with a lazy motion of his finger, indicated the single, red circle drawn upon it. "That's where the Krauts have it."

Hogan left his chair and walked across the room for a closer look. Kinch stood to join him. Out of the corner of his eye, Hogan noticed the slightly stiff way he was moving and turned to study him in concern.

"What happened to you?"

Embarrassment passed quickly over Kinch's face. "Brambles. Nothing serious." His eyes silently begged the matter be dropped.

Hogan considered the silent plea, then looked beyond Kinch's shoulder. O'Malley met his stare with a bland expression and a minute shake of his head. Reassured and wanting to spare Kinch further embarrassment, Hogan turned back to the map without another word. Kinch crossed the remaining distance between them and settled at his right shoulder.

"It's not fully built yet, but they're close to finishing based on what Paxton and Braveheart told me. The defenses are tough, Colonel --"

"But we've taken on tougher," Carter interjected from his seat at the table. "You'll think of something, boy. Sir."

"Just not tonight," Hogan countered, briefly returning Carter's grin. Turning, he leaned a shoulder against the wall and waved everyone toward the tunnels. "We've still got some time before Schultz calls us for roll call, fellas. Get some sleep while there's a chance."

Kinch deliberately lagged behind until the last man had cleared the room. Once he was certain that they were completely alone, he faced Hogan with a raised eyebrow.

"Did it help?"

Hogan gave him an unreadable look. "Did what help?"

"Whatever it was that you did tonight."

"Oh, that," Hogan quipped. Sobering, he took a seat at the table and brushed the fingers of both hands through his hair. "I went to see Josef and Romie."

Kinch pulled up the chair across from him. "About time, sir."

That brought a wan smile to Hogan's lips. "It was good seeing them again. Even better hearing they don't blame me for Marta's death."

"I would have been surprised if they had," Kinch said softly.

Hogan's expression softened with affection. "You've got to meet them sometime, buddy. One visit and you're a member of the family."

"I don't exactly fit the bill." Kinch's tone was neutral.

Hogan blinked. The fact that Kinch was black had not even entered his mind. It did not make any difference to him and he knew it would not to Josef and Romie, either. He looked Kinch directly in the eye, conviction filling his voice.

"They didn't blame me for killing Marta. They sure won't let the color of your skin keep them from adopting you, too."

Kinch's mouth curled in a warm smile. After a brief pause, he carefully repeated his earlier question. "Did your visit with them help?"

Hogan's gaze flickered, then dropped to the table's top. It was a few moments before he spoke. "Some, I guess." He glanced up. "The truth is, I don't honestly know for sure."

Several minutes of silence passed between them, and then Hogan blew out a long breath and stared into the distance.

"Until a few days ago, I thought I'd learned to live with the guilt of killing people. But Marta was apparently the last straw." His voice fell to a whisper. "I broke down. Bawled like a baby in Romie's arms and then . . ." He huffed a weak chuckle, embarrassed. "I fell asleep right in the middle of the Metzger's living room."

"Catharsis," Kinch murmured. "All those years of suppressed guilt finally caught up with you."

Hogan shrugged, his gaze falling again. "There's still the question of whether I'll be able to use my gun when the time comes."

Kinch sighed. "No way of knowing until that time's upon you."

Hogan looked up. "You wouldn't happen to have a crystal ball stashed somewhere would you?"

Amusement sparked in Kinch's eyes. "Sorry. Fresh out."

Hogan heaved a sigh of high drama, got to his feet and clapped him on the shoulder. "You've been pulling some long hours. Get some rest."

Kinch stood, but made no move to leave. "You coming?"

"Soon as I change and get rid of what's left of the face paint." Hogan jerked his chin toward the tunnel. "Go on, mom. I'll see you upstairs."

"Don't forget to clean behind your ears," Kinch teased back.

Hogan loosed a mock growl and stabbed a finger at the doorway. Impish smile firmly in place, Kinch touched fingers to his forehead and left for Barracks Two. Hogan sank back onto the chair and for several minutes, contemplated how lucky he was to serve with the men under his command.

HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH

"You weren't kidding."

A faint grin tugged at Kinch's mouth.

Hogan favored him with a glare. "This place makes Fort Knox look like a kiddie playground." He broke eye contact and looked down at the sketch representing the site. "Ten-foot fences topped with barbed wire. Two perimeter guards on every fence. More guards posted around the tower itself."

"Don't forget the security lights," Newkirk groused.

Carter glanced down at the marks denoting the four floodlights. "But they're not lit."

"They're kept dark to hide the site from bombers," Hogan said, still studying the drawing. "They'll light up quick enough, though, if an alert is sounded." He sat down, braced an elbow on the desk and rested his chin atop his fist.

Braveheart leaned in and laid a broad fingertip upon the paper. "There's a blind spot right here, created by the buildings inside the south fence. The guards walking that part of the perimeter are out of sight of everyone else for about one hundred feet."

"We could take them here." Kinch indicated the mid-point of the guards' route. "Right after they've met in the middle and turned to retrace their steps. We get them from behind, when their backs are to each other. Once they're out of the way, a couple of our guys take their places walking the fence, leaving us free to cut it and go inside."

"What then?" Hogan challenged, sitting up. "Once inside, there's a wide stretch of open ground between us and the tower. There's no way to cross it without being seen."

Newkirk considered the sketch with narrowed eyes. "I got just the thing." He looked up, grinned wide at everyone. "Invisibility cloaks."

"Ha, ha," LeBeau growled, unamused.

An exchange of sarcasm followed, liberally salted with Carter's comments about the possibility of invisibility one day becoming reality. Hogan's eyes drifted back and forth over the sketch, looking for a way to destroy the tower without getting his men killed in the process. His gaze passed over a group of small circles representing a cache of fuel barrels, paused, then skidded back. A light went on in his head, complete with full orchestral accompaniment. A grin slowly stretched across his face. Noticing it, his men fell silent with expectation.

"We don't have to destroy the tower," Hogan explained. "All we have to do is give the bombers a target." He turned to Carter. "How's your supply of firecrackers?"

Carter's focus turned inward, his lips moving as he did a quick mental inventory of his stock. "We have plenty, sir." His expression brightened. "The firecrackers will make the Krauts think they're under attack!"

Braveheart stared into the distance as if watching the scene unfold. "They turn the floodlights on . . ."

Paxton took up the narrative next. "And our guys have a perfect bull's eye to aim at."

"But we can't count on the Krauts leaving the lights on long enough for our bombers to zero in on the site," Hogan pointed out.

Kinch nodded. "They'll douse them soon as they hear the planes coming."

"The firecrackers are more for a diversion." Hogan drew their attention to the sketch again. "While the Krauts are chasing ghosts in the woods, we'll be setting some of Carter's special explosives next to these fuel barrels. When those go up, the fire will be bright enough to be seen from Berlin."

LeBeau's pleasure rang in his voice, his eyes bright with malice. "The flames will be like a beacon."

"And the tower will get blown sky high," Paxton said, grinning.

Newkirk chuckled. "And then, it'll come tumbling down."

Hogan and Kinch made eye contact. "Get on the radio," Hogan ordered. "Find out the earliest a squadron can be formed."

Thank you for reading!