Two days. Carter was two days late and Hogan's one and only opportunity to contact the men of Stalag 13 had ended in failure. The means of communication was antiquated compared to the set up at the stalag, but he knew that the failure hadn't happened on his end. That left his imagination to run wild with torturous possibilities.
The question plaguing him now was, did he go ahead with the plan, or did he wait?
The excavation of a second tunnel from the officer's barracks to the existing route under the tool shed had nearly finished. His next connector tunnel would go straight to The Zoo but that project would be iffy at best if it started to snow, and the weather had been unreasonably wet, and unseasonably cold for the past few days.
In the time since Corporal Peter Newkirk arrived in camp, the Englander had already made a good deal of capital on a dozen card games, but all of his winnings were on paper. The purpose of the games had been to attract the participation of the guards and the corporal had managed to involve at least one of them before the commandant interrupted.
A small men's choir had begun in Barrack 3B, and the group had announced a show for which they had requested material to make costumes. The bolts of fabric that had been provided were intentionally flimsy; the commandant had no intention of providing them with the means of making civilian clothes. Hogan's purpose, however, had been to turn the men of Barrack 3B into tailors. With Newkirk's help their sewing skills were coming along nicely.
Hogan had resigned himself to improving his Russian, and forced Newkirk to sit through the lessons with him, since the cockney was supposed to be posing as a Ukrainian flyer.
The long parades around the camp and ongoing influx of food from the farm were putting the men in better and better shape.
Colonel Robert Hogan was sitting on a developing plan, like a hen on an egg; but could do nothing about it while he was stuck with endless hours of waiting and watching the tool shed and the camp entrance, hoping that either Carter or Hochstetter would show up.
The fact that he was relying at all on the Gestapo major made him queasy but in this case he didn't have a choice if he wanted information. And no news, was not good news. Not by a long shot.
"Colonel, you won't believe what those boys 'ad growin' inside Barracks 3B."
"Hold on a minute, Newkirk."
"I 'aven't seen this stuff since…well since it was banned in '28. They've got almost 'alf a pound of-."
"Newkirk…" Hogan gave his man a disapproving look that the Englander happily shrugged off, then jerked his chin toward the front gate. From his position on the hill in front of the officer's barracks Hogan could see the main drive leading up to the administration building. A black ambulance, flying Nazi flags and SS insignia had just rolled into camp.
"Looks like a hearse.." Newkirk mumbled softly, both men squinting as the driver stepped out and started directing the guards in front of the administration building toward the back of the vehicle.
"Doesn't make sense. Why would-" It took him a minute or two, then Hogan's hand flew up, latching onto the front of Newkirk's borrowed uniform and digging in.
He thought he was going to have a heart attack. Newkirk must have thought so too because he immediately braced his commanding officer with both hands.
"Colonel?"
"What in the blue blazes…!" After the shock wore off the anger grew, momentarily overwhelming his common sense and Hogan stormed down the hill, Newkirk following close behind. They were nearly to the deadline before Newkirk grabbed a handful of bomber jacket and yanked him back.
The guards had stiffened in the towers, alarmed at the unexpected action of the senior POW officer. Once the Englander had Hogan stopped he sent a friendly, disarming wave to the guards, trying to smile reassuringly.
"It's Carter!"
"What the bloody 'ell were you-?"
"It's….Car-ter." Hogan said, enunciating his consonants and shaking his head as he watched the Sergeant, turned Leutnant.
Dressed in an SS uniform, complete with black gloves that looked too big for him, Carter's voice carried easily over the distance as he snapped orders in clipped German. The two guards were emptying the back of the ambulance and Hogan squinted at the smaller than normal prisoner being carried toward the hospital. "And LeBeau…what are those guys tryin' to pull?"
The commandant appeared and papers changed hands, Carter was constantly saluting, forcing the commandant to do the same. The stretcher bearers had disappeared into the hospital and returned in record time, their hands once again empty.
Hogan fumed, deprived of the privilege of dressing down his men that very moment, men who apparently had nothing better to do than pull pranks.
"How many times do I have to say it? Don't pad your parts, and don't adlib!" Hogan snapped.
He made sure he caught Carter's eye when the 'Untersturmfuhrer' turned around to get back into the ambulance, and gave his head a sharp, stern shake. Carter responded with a solemn look of chagrin and the barest of nods before he got into the driver's seat and drove the ambulance to the camp motor pool.
Another hour passed before Carter gained access to the POW side of the camp, carrying orders to collect Hogan and deliver him to the hospital where he was to get acquainted with the new prisoner.
To the commandant of the camp the order had seemed bizarre, along with the transfer of the prisoner, and the officer that brought him, but the official papers were signed by a General Burkhalter, and Hochstetter. The latter name was so commonly entwined with all things bizarre that the commandant allowed the colonel entrance to the hospital without a second thought.
Hogan said nothing to Carter, treating him the way he would any Gestapo officer, with cold contempt and disapproval. The sergeant made no attempt to illicit a response, playing his part a little dull, but to the letter.
The doctor recognized the colonel and after a brief conversation and the receipt of some eggs and a few tomatoes that Hogan had smuggled in his coat, the doctor and his aids agreed to leave Hogan alone with the Gestapo man and the new prisoner.
When Hogan saw LeBeau the carefully kindled flame of anger was snuffed instantly. Robert felt like he'd been socked in the gut. The Frenchman was pale, bathed in sweat and still recovering from the excruciating pain caused by the move from the back of the ambulance. He probably hadn't seen a painkiller in over twenty-four hours, and Hogan knew he was even less likely to be given any here.
Carter looked like a whipped dog and had remained standing, his eyes downcast. A closer look at him told Hogan that the gloves weren't too big, but just the right size to fit over the bandages wrapped around Carter's hands. When Hogan lifted a hand to put it on Andrew's shoulder the man actually flinched.
"Carter…" Hogan said gently, "Sit down." Moving with him, the colonel sat on the cot next to LeBeau's, his hand remaining on the spot of tension between Andrew's shoulder and neck, until he felt the tendon relax.
"Colonel…" LeBeau was struggling to stay conscious, knowing that the colonel could only be fearing the worst, and would need a full report. "There was a cave-in at the camp, a-an explosion-"
"A bomber was shot down, sir." Carter offered, quietly filling in the blanks. "The plane and some of the bombs landed in the camp."
Hogan's hands tightened into fists, feeling as if a bomb had just been dropped on him. In his mind's eye he could see the camp in flames, the barracks torn to shreds, his men... The time he'd wasted…the instincts he should have listened to…
"I was trapped in the tunnel. Carter came back. Pulled me free."
"We did like you said, Colonel. They had me dressed up in that Hitler-Jugen outfit a-and I blew it."
"You got me to the hospital, Carter." Louie snapped with a little more fire, his voice thick with emotion and pain. "And the underground got us back out again."
"Tiger gave me a Wehrmacht uniform and I snuck back into camp and then Kinch-"
The name of his fourth man flooded Hogan with relief and he dropped his head, one hand clamping down on the edge of the cot he sat on. He nodded his head, his voice quaking a little as he said, "Kinch put you in an SS uniform and sent you and LeBeau here."
Hogan pulled his hat off and let it hang by his fingertips, burying his face in his other hand, struggling to sort out the onslaught of emotions. Chief among them were relief at knowing that all of his men were still alive, and overwhelming pride at what they had managed to accomplish against the odds, and completely on their own.
His hand went back to Carter's shoulder and he felt the sergeant fold, giving in to the stress a little himself. The move was hardly one that an American POW would make toward an agent of the Gestapo, but he didn't much care.
It took Hogan a few minutes to pull it together. There were questions that needed answers, and tasks that needed seeing to and Hogan hastily wiped at his face, risking a glance over his shoulder before he asked, "LeBeau, how bad is it?"
Clearly in agony, Louie bravely said, "Not bad, mon Colonel."
"Both of his legs are fractured." Carter muttered, staring now at his friend. "Couple of badly bruised ribs and…I dislocated his left shoulder gettin' him out."
LeBeau's face lightened a little with a gracious look of forgiveness that Carter missed. The Frenchman frankly was glad to be alive and not buried under several tons of dirt. They'd had this conversation a few times on the drive down but Carter hadn't yet forgiven himself.
"You saved his life, Carter. In every other circumstance you'd have a commendation and a furlough by now." Hogan said, his voice low enough that only Carter and LeBeau could hear.
Carter gave him an uncertain look but once more Hogan could feel the tension leaving his shoulders. "The orders that Kinchloe gave you, what do they say?"
"I'm assigned to this prison camp until further notice. My orders can only be changed by Hochstetter himself."
"I always planned to get a man into the Gestapo, but I guess it took Kinch to get the job done." Hogan thought for a moment, then said "The confusion at Stalag 13 must have been enough to explain you and LeBeau being missing."
The faces of both men fell, and Hogan could feel more bad news coming on like a winter cold.
"I got into camp pretending to be a driver for a troop truck that General Burkhalter ordered. He's given Klink four weeks to get everything ship shape or…he's gonna close down the camp."
Hogan sighed, closing his eyes and feeling something once firmly planted in his mind slip completely off its perch. Make it or break it, was the first thought to come to mind. Do or die. Empty two POW camps in one fell swoop, or empty one and rebuild another. "What about Crittendon, did they ever find him?"
Carter's mouth suddenly quirked in his awkward little smile and he shook his head. "After he escaped from that transfer truck he disappeared off the map, Colonel."
"Probably still lost in the middle of Germany somewhere." LeBeau moaned, unfavorably.
Hogan didn't know if having Crittendon at Stalag 13 would have been a blessing or a curse, but it was a moot point now. They hadn't heard anything about the British colonel or his botched transfer in months.
"The radio is out at camp?" Hogan said, waiting for confirmation even though he knew the answer.
Carter nodded, "Kinch had no way of letting London know what was goin' on."
"We're on our own."
Hogan barely had a few seconds warning, a rushed whisper from the doctor, before he heard the rapid staccato of jack boots on the hospital floor.
He shot to his feet even as Hochstetter shouted for the Leutnant to stand and report. Carter swept up into attention and saluted out of habit, but it didn't take long for the shorter officer to realize that this wasn't his man.
The surprise seemed to strike the short major speechless for a few minutes, and as his eyes bounced between the faces of the men gathered he said, "One of your men is now in the Gestapo, Hogan?"
Hochstetter strode closer, looking Carter's uniform over with a mix of disgust and surprise on his face. He gave Hogan a glance then stepped toward the Frenchman lying prone and in pain. Carter dropped the salute and fell back to put himself between the Gestapo man and Louie, earning another look from the major.
"You've brought three of your men here, if Klink's reports are to be believed. How many more must you have before you are done wasting my time?"
"I'm sorry, Major. I don't know what you're talking about." Hogan said, heatedly, caution keeping his voice just below full boil.
The major grit his teeth, and Hogan could see the father inside the carefully controlled man panicking. But Hochstetter thought about it and pulled back.
"It would seem that your old base of operations is in ruins, Colonel. By the hand of your allies, no less. Should I expect that you are…moving shop?"
"I think you'll find that the prisoner and the Leutnant were brought here on your orders, Hochstetter." Hogan said, resisting the urge to smirk. "Copies of those orders are now safely filed in the commandant's office. And you can ask the guards. They'll tell you that the population of the camp is accurate. No extra men."
The Major's face began to burn again. "Stealing official stationary, falsifying orders, forging signatures. You are a crook, Hogan, and a thief, and a spy!"
"And you're a murdering liar, but you don't see me holding that against you."
The accusation came as a surprise to the major but before he could question it, the doctor stepped within earshot. He was quiet about it, keeping his head down, but insistent that he have the major's attention.
"What do you want?"
"The men. They need their rest. Especially the Frenchman. If the major could carry on this conversation elsewhere." The request came quietly out of the doctor's mouth in German drawing the full attention of the Gestapo man. Hogan used the brief distraction to hand LeBeau a small cloth wrapped package, before he and Carter were ordered to follow Hochstetter.
Hogan nodded his thanks to the doctor as they left the hospital.
"You've been here three months, Hogan. In this amount of time you would have helped fifty men to escape at Stalag 13. What is your game?"
Hogan spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I'm a prisoner in a POW labor camp, Major. I have no idea what you're talking about."
Hogan realized he'd stepped too far a second too late. A dangerous anger glinted in Hochstetter's eyes before he barked, "Leutnant, pull out your gun. Point it at this prisoner. He is trying to escape."
Carter paled, and glanced to Hogan but the colonel nodded quietly for him to do it. "Obey the major, Leutnant."
Swallowing hard Carter pulled the gun out and pointed it at Hogan, careful to keep the end of the muzzle away from anything vital.
"Cock it, Leutnant." Hochstetter said next, drawing his own weapon and holding it loosely in his hand, but so that the muzzle was pointed toward Carter.
"Do it, Carter." Hogan said softly.
"But, Colonel-!"
"Do it!"
Scared and nervous, Carter cocked the pistol, once more making absolutely certain that if it went off, it wasn't going to kill anyone.
"Very good, Leutnant." The Gestapo man praised, clenching his teeth tightly, beginning to look more and more like a time bomb. "Now…Hogan, I will ask again. Why are you wasting my time?"
Hogan knew Carter would do everything in his power not to shoot him. But he didn't trust Hochstetter not to shoot Carter. The point wasn't to shoot anybody, but was Major Hochstetter's way of reminding Hogan that the Gestapo man was still in control and Hogan was still a prisoner.
The American colonel had half a dozen aces up his sleeves that the major knew nothing about, but letting the little man believe he was in charge was advantageous for the moment. Hogan flattened his voice and said, "I was waiting for my second man to arrive. I'll need the two of them for the escape, and the trouble at Stalag 13 has delayed things. Having a man in the hospital is going to make it all the more difficult."
"I don't care to hear your excuses, Colonel-"
"And there's another thing." Hogan overrode the Major. Carter was starting to shake and looked like he might faint, and Hogan wasn't interested in giving up anymore ground than he had to. "A month ago I tried to get Private Caine to go under the wire and he wouldn't do it. He flat out refused."
Hochstetter's eyes snapped away from Carter to the colonel and the second he could, Carter lowered the pistol.
"What are you saying? Why…why would he do this?"
"Loyalty, for one thing." Hogan said, careful not to imply anything with the statement. "He won't go before the rest of his men."
"His men? He doesn't have men, he is a private."
"The enlisted men voted him as their representative. All 238 of 'em." Hogan said, and the major straightened a little. His face never changed but Hogan could feel pride filling the man.
"And...Caine says he won't leave until everyone has escaped."