Both medics, Wilson and Anderson, continued to work on Carter for over an hour before they stepped back with a wearied sigh.
"How is he?" Hogan asked laying his flashlight down then rubbing his injured shoulder.
"He's critical. The bullet nicked a major vein, but fortunately not the femoral artery. If that had happened, he wouldn't have made it back alive. At this point, I don't know if he'll make it or not. That's up to Carter, sir," Wilson answered wiping his hands.
"Could we not take him to the hospital in town? He's wearing a German uniform," Francois asked. He'd refused to leave the infirmary out of concern for Carter holding two flashlights so the medics had ample lighting.
"Non, it would not be possible because he's really a prisoner," LeBeau answered sharply from the back of the infirmary.
"Is there anything that would help?" Hogan asked, not masking his worry.
"If London would make an airdrop of supplies tonight, it would dramatically improve his chances. I know we need to move Carter upstairs, but it has to be done very delicately and I want to wait a few hours giving him a chance to stabilize. We can't chance reopening the vein or we'll lose him," Wilson answered his trained eye looking over Hogan closely.
"Make a list of everything needed and Kinch will contact London. It's early enough we can still get an airdrop," Hogan said looking at his watch. It was only 2100 hours.
"Yes sir, after I take look at your shoulder, I'll write up a list," Wilson requested in such a way that didn't allow Hogan to protest, much.
"It's just a scratch and Carter is our main concern," Hogan insisted.
"Sir, it's going to be a very long night and I don't want to fight you on this, so I'll be the judge of how bad it is," Wilson replied leading Hogan over to a cot against the wall. Hogan reluctantly took a seat and grimaced as Wilson helped him out of the German uniform jacket and shirt. The medic cut the undershirt cloth away from the wound on the top of Hogan's shoulder a few inches from his neck, some of the cloth sticking to the dried blood as he pulled the fabric away, causing it start bleeding again. Using fresh water, he began cleaning the area until he could get a good look at it. "Fortunately, this time it is not too bad. However, there's no way to sew it up," Wilson stated as he put sulfur powder on it then placed a bandage over the injury. "I can give you some aspirin for the pain."
"It's not bad, save the medication," Hogan replied gingerly putting his arm in the sling Anderson was helping him with, as much as he didn't want to admit it the sling did help.
Wilson wrote out a list of needed supplies handing it to Kinch. "Do you think we'll have any trouble getting the medications like we did last time?"
"I don't know. Depends on what type of mood London is in tonight," Hogan replied shaking his head. He started to get up, but felt a hand on his good shoulder.
"Rest for a while, sir, you need it. I don't need you passing out from your own blood loss," Anderson ordered. Hogan reluctantly stayed seated, although Anderson would have preferred him to lie down.
"Hopefully they're in a jolly good mood," Newkirk responded tersely.
"What does that mean?" François asked.
"Sometimes we're not a top priority for them. In their defense, I know they have more to worry about than the health of the men in this camp, but it's my primary concern. However, if you were the injured one, London would do everything possible to get us the needed supplies. It's a double standard we have to deal with," Wilson answered.
"That hardly seems fair," François replied, shocked.
"Not many things are fair in war," LeBeau said. "The last time Newkirk was injured pretty badly, London refused to help. We were on our own."
François paced the length of the infirmary then turned speaking to Kinch. "Sergeant, tell Allied Command that my coming to London to give them the newest rocket technologies the Germans are working on is predicated on this young man receiving every item on that list so he lives. If they don't make that airdrop quickly, then I will take my chances and go back to France. Remind them I carry the newest information on rockets that will start hitting England in the next few weeks. The rockets have an Achilles heel that only I know how to implement. I made sure they were designed that way."
Kinch looked at Hogan for approval, Hogan nodded his head. "Yes, sir, I'll make sure they understand."
"I'll come with you in case there's any flak," Hogan said.
"No, Colonel, you've done enough tonight. As the medic says, you need to rest. I'll speak with London and ensure they see it my way. You and your man put your lives on the line to save me, so it's the least I can do," François passionately answered.
"Thank you, but just in case I should be there. Kinch, we need London to understand that if we lose Carter, we'll be out of the sabotage business," Hogan replied standing up slowly. His adrenaline had worn off and he was beginning to feel everything that happened tonight. Between the bullet graze to his shoulder and the tumble down the ravine had left him with bruises and aches he didn't want Wilson worrying about; Carter had to remain the medic's only focus. He would be sore for a while, but it wasn't anything he hadn't felt before.
The trio went to the radio room, Hogan and François waited while Kinch contacted London. With a little persuasion from Hogan, they agreed to the immediate airdrop. Due to unforeseen circumstances, it would be a week before the submarine could pick up François, and they'd need to keep him until arrangements could be finalized.
"Well it looks like you're going to be with us for a while. We'll make you as comfortable as we can," Hogan said as the radio was disconnected.
"Don't worry about me Colonel, you'll find that I don't require much. I'm just grateful for no longer being in the hands of the SS. And that your man will receive the supplies he needs," François added quickly.
"Sir, I'll go out with Newkirk to get the drop," Kinch said as he secured the radio and lowered the antenna.
"No, you gave blood so I'll send Olsen out with Newkirk. Would you go wake him up and tell him what we need? We'll let Wilson know the news," Hogan ordered walking back to the infirmary. Kinch nodded his head yes and went upstairs disappointed he wasn't going out. But if Carter needed more blood, he'd be first in line.
"That's good news sir, Carter is holding his own right now. I gave him something to ensure he stays asleep, until we get him upstairs. But what concerns me is we need to figure out a way to get him upstairs flat. I don't want to bend his leg at all not even at the groin. Do you have any ideals how?" Wilson asked.
Hogan tried to wrap his arms around himself, but found it wasn't possible. "How about a stretcher? We could secure him to it and lift him up."
"Could I see the area he needs to be taken through? Perhaps I can help rig something up to lift the stretcher," François asked.
"That can be arranged," Hogan replied as Kinch and Olsen came into room.
"Sir, do you want us in blacks or uniform?" Olsen asked walking over by Carter, worry evident. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"It's a dark night, so blacks will be fine. The SS believe the Wehrmacht are to blame and shouldn't be combing our woods tonight. Just be careful out there," Hogan ordered. Newkirk and Olsen answered affirmatively as they left to change.
"Why did you choose to come in Wehrmacht uniforms?" François asked.
"Because they'll never admit if they have you or not due to the infighting, plus it throws them down a path that doesn't lead back to us," Hogan answered.
"That makes sense," François said, nodding his head. "Shall we take a look at where we need to move Carter?"
"Sure it's this way," Hogan said.
"Sir, may I speak with you for moment?" Wilson asked, concern filling his voice.
"Go ahead, I'll catch up," Hogan said to Kinch then turning back to Wilson.
Newkirk and Olsen closed the lid on the emergency tunnel and ducked behind the bushes avoiding the ever-present roaming spotlight. Taking off towards the south, they came to the spot where the drop was to happen. "I can't believe Carter is fighting for his life," Newkirk ran a hand over his face.
"Don't worry, he'll make it," Olsen said placing a hand on Newkirk's shoulder.
"Sure he will, in a few days, he'll be right as rain," Newkirk said with more conviction than he felt. Carrying the limp body of his best friend through the tunnels shook him to his core. If they'd been the same blood type, he'd hook himself up first, but they weren't. All he could do was stay out of the way and hope. Watching as the medics worked on Carter, at one point he had to leave the infirmary and hurl. LeBeau had followed him out and told him about the resistance they encountered. It was supposed to be an easy in an out mission that's why they went in as Wehrmacht officers. He wanted to go with them, but Colonel Hogan insisted on keeping the operation small. He should have been there, maybe then Carter wouldn't be in such bad shape.
"Here comes the plane now," Olsen said softly watching the sky.
"Yep, right on time," Newkirk said as he pulled the torch out of his bag. He sent the flash signal to the plane which signaled back.
"There," Olsen pointed to the small chute falling to the earth. They made their way over to the box in record time. As they retrieved it, they heard rustling in the woods coming towards them. "I'll lead them away. You get it back to camp." Then he disappeared into the woods.
Newkirk picked up the box, but before he took a few steps, he heard, "Halt!" very close behind him. Turning around he was facing the business end of a German rifle.