Too early the next morning, Schultz came barging into the barracks with his loud morning voice yelling, "Raus, raus, time to get up. Roll call inside!" He started to hit the side of Carter and Newkirk's bunk only to find himself face to face with the camp medic.
"Please don't hit the bunk. Carter is very sick," Wilson said.
"Wh...wh...what are you doing here?"
"Don't you remember, you brought Wilson over last night when Carter became ill," Hogan asked coming out of his quarters pulling his shirt on. Schultz shook his head no. "What's this about roll call inside? It's not raining."
"Kommandant's orders. All prisoners are confined to barracks until further notice. What's wrong with Carter?" Schultz took a step closer looking at the stricken young man.
"Why are the prisoners confined to barracks?" Hogan asked, sure he already knew the answer.
"There's been some trouble," Schultz stopped talking and his eyes grew wide. "Carter's hurt from monkey business. Did you have something to do with a guard dying?"
"We weren't doing any monkey business last night," Newkirk said putting a hand on Schultz's shoulder. "How did a guard die?"
"Then how did Carter get hurt?" Schultz took a step back eying them suspiciously.
"Do you really want to know?" Hogan asked with a raised eye.
Schultz thought about that for a moment, "Ja. The truth not something made up."
"The tunnel we've been working on collapsed last night and we had to dig Carter out. He hurt his leg pretty bad," Hogan answered.
Schultz looked from Hogan to Carter and could see smears of dirt still on his face from the tumble down the ravine. "You weren't outside the camp?" Schultz asked, unconvinced.
"How would we get out of camp," Hogan started and Schultz gave him a look that said he wasn't a complete fool. "No, we weren't outside of camp at all. I promise you, we'd never kill a guard. Tell us what happened."
"Corporal Waechter was found dead. His neck had been broken," Schultz said, partially relieved his prisoners weren't responsible, or at least hoped they weren't.
"How terrible, did he have enemies?" Olsen asked coming over to the group.
"Nein, he got along with everyone. He even volunteered for night duty and kept an eye out on this barracks. If I didn't trust him, I'd have put him in the back of the camp. The Gestapo will be by later," Schultz explained.
"Why the Gestapo? Do they think the underground was involved?" LeBeau questioned.
"I know nothing. Nothing," Schultz started until Hogan gave him a look that made the guard drop his standard line. "They found a button from a Wehrmacht uniform near the body. But that's all I know, really. Kommandant Klink didn't tell me anything else."
"That's enough proof for you to know we'd never hurt the lad. The only German uniforms we have are Luftwaffe uniforms," Newkirk put an arm around Schultz's shoulders.
"Jolly jokers! Luftwaffe uniforms and tunnels. Was anyone else hurt in the cave in?" Schultz started looking around at the men.
"Colonel Hogan hurt his arm and should be wearing a sling," Wilson said disapprovingly.
"How did he get here?" Schultz asked pointing at Wilson.
"Don't you remember you brought him here last night?" Hogan asked, ignoring Wilson's comment.
"Nein." Hogan pulled out a candy bar. "I might remember something." A second candy bar came out. "Now I remember," Schultz's eyes sparkled. If they told him the truth or not, he knew where his chocolate came from. He also knew that reporting them would get him killed, definitely for dereliction of duty for allowing the operation to continue for so long, and possibly by the prisoners to silence him before he could talk. He'd made his decision long ago where his loyalties had to lie; now he did whatever his conscious needed to live with that decision. And for him chocolate was a good start.
"Carter is holding his own, and I should get back. Take me to my barracks, Schultzie. We don't want Langenscheidt to become confused," Wilson said buttoning up his jacket.
"But I haven't done roll call," Schultz protested.
"Everyone's here, I promise," Hogan replied. "Do you also remember that you're going to bring Sergeant Anderson over after Wilson gets to his barracks?" He held out another candy bar which Schultz reached for, but all he got was the wrapper as Hogan held onto the candy.
"Jawohl," Schultz knew he'd get the candy bar when he brought the other medic to the barracks. He looked around doing a visual to ensure everyone was present. Satisfied he escorted Wilson to his hut.
"What do you think, Colonel?" Kinch asked after the door was closed.
"Hopefully the button will be enough to keep us and the underground off the radar. We'll keep an eye out for Hochstetter to show up. That was really good thinking Olsen," Hogan gave him a smile while studying the young man.
"Thank you, sir," Olsen answered; his face exhausted, sleep had eluded him overnight. It didn't go unnoticed by either Hogan or Newkirk.
"LeBeau, what's for breakfast?" Hogan asked looking around for the Frenchman.
"I have something special in mind," LeBeau answered as he came out of Hogan's room handing the sling to the Colonel.
Hogan took it and put it on realizing just how much less his shoulder protested while wearing it. "Kinch, you want to bring up our guest and check with London and see if you can get an update on when our operative will arrive to escort François to the coast?"
Hochstetter had arrived mid-afternoon to interrogate Klink, who was unimpressed Corporal Waechter was a Gestapo mole. Hochstetter left vowing to find the criminal who killed his man. As the prisoners were still confined to the barracks, Hogan had no contact with Klink during the day. The guard posted outside the barracks saw to it the prisoners stayed inside. However, the confinement gave everyone a chance to rest up from the previous night's activities. It was after lights out and the men were sitting around the table in the common room drinking newly acquired wine from Klink's stash.
"How is Carter doing?" François asked as he climbed up the ladder.
"He's stable and been semi awake for a few minutes at a time," Wilson answered taking a cup of wine, and moving over so the man could sit down.
"I'm glad to hear it. How are you feeling Colonel?" the scientist asked looking across the table at him.
"The shoulder is much better, thanks," Hogan replied. "Why don't you tell us about you?"
"What do you want to know? There's not much to my life's story," he answered accepting wine from Newkirk.
"How did you go to work for the SS?" LeBeau asked without the usual warmth in his tone.
"When one has a gun pointed in his face, you quickly learn to do as you're told. I was at the university in Clermont when the Germans took it over. They gathered the engineering and mathematics professors up in one room and asked a simple question. Who didn't want to work for the greater glory of the Third Reich? A colleague and friend stood up and said he wasn't working for Hitler. The Colonel in charge took his gun out and shot him in the head. It was horrific. Needless to say, we knew what our only choice was," François said then took a long drink of his wine. LeBeau refilled his cup. "Merci."
"That's a lot of motivation for any man," Kinch said watching LeBeau. He'd spent most of the day talking with François down in the tunnels, and saw no reason for LeBeau's hesitation.
"How much did the Krauts get out of you?" Hogan asked.
"Just because I was their prisoner for a very long time doesn't mean I gave them everything I knew. I worked slowly and backwards whenever I could. I'd always been involved in rocket research, so I knew several avenues that didn't work. I pursued them as I could to delay any advancement, but that can only work for so long. The SS have unpleasant ways to encourage cooperation, which is partially why I was moved to this area. More recently, I made significant breakthroughs, but they don't know the full potential of what they have. I made sure the more promising features weren't fully realized and sabotaged the results whenever realistically possible. I'm very grateful to you and the underground for rescuing me. I'll never be able to repay you for your efforts," François said twisting his wedding ring.
"Just giving the research to our side is enough. Is there a Mrs. Barrett somewhere that we should be concerned about?" Hogan asked.
"Non," François played with his ring for a long moment before answering. "She is dead."
"Lousy Boche," LeBeau said full of conviction.
"They did not kill her. Non, I lost my Marie before the war," he stopped and took a drink of his wine.
"Tell us about her," Hogan urged.
"Marie and I were young, perhaps too young to be married but we were in love. When I first saw her, she was chasing her brother around the block because he'd caused some sort of mischief. I fell in love instantly, and had to meet her, so I had a friend introduce us. One thing led to another and within a few months, we were married. We lived in a tiny flat close to the university where I worked. Everyday I'd come home and Marie would have dinner prepared for me, most of the time it was inedible, but she tried. A cook she was not," he stopped for a moment chuckling at the memory. "Needless to say we ate out a lot."
"Was she pretty?" Newkirk asked. He could talk about women non-stop.
"She was beautiful. Her brown eyes could captivate me and I found myself lost in them often. And her smile was brighter than the moon," François's face lit up remembering his wife.
"She sounds like a remarkable woman," Kinch said thinking of the woman he loved back in the states.
"That she was. I can tell your Colonel knows what it is to love a woman," François said making all the men turn towards Hogan. "Do you have someone waiting for you back home?"
"She's waiting somewhere," Hogan answered, uncomfortable at the attention. "How did your wife die?"
François took a deep breath before continuing his story. "We had a fight; it was stupid and my fault. I stormed out angry and didn't kiss her goodbye. All morning at work, I let my anger get the best of me until my mentor spoke up. He asked me if what we fought about would matter in two years. Or could we have blown it out of proportion? His wife of forty-five years had died a year before, and he said that he'd give anything to have another chance to kiss her and tell her how much he loved her. I realized what he was saying and went home for lunch. I was going to apologize and beg forgiveness, but I never got the opportunity. When I arrived, the fire department was there and the building was completely full of fire. The fire started in the boiler room, which we lived above. I tried…I tried so hard to get in there and save her, but the flames were too hot. No one could get in, and she wasn't one of the lucky ones who got out. They say she probably died due to the force of the explosion. The building burned completely and her remains were mostly destroyed leaving not much to bury. My Marie never had a chance," François stopped wiping a tear away.
"I'm so sorry," Hogan said; the other men making similar sentiments.
"I wear my ring in honor of Marie. I loved her more than life itself. Let it be a lesson to all of you to never leave a loved one in anger. Walk away if you need to regain control, but make sure they know you still love them," François said looking at all the men.
"That's good advice," LeBeau said wondering if he'd made a mistake about the man. No one else had a nagging feeling, and he couldn't explain why he did. Nothing François did or said indicated he was anything other than what they saw. Perhaps Newkirk was right and it was his anxiety over Carter that he was projecting onto François. If they hadn't rescued him then Carter would never have been injured. LeBeau did find himself blaming François for Carter and Hogan's injuries; perhaps it was unfair, but he couldn't help how he felt.
"So who is this woman who holds your heart?" François asked looking at Hogan. "Is she beautiful?"
"Oui, she is beautiful and dangerous," LeBeau said with a smirk.
Hogan gave him a dirty look. "We try not to form those types of bonds in our line of work; you never know when the job will get in the way. Maybe when the war is over, there'll be time for something more."
"Beautiful and dangerous that sounds like an interesting combination. A toast, leadership may change, countries disintegrate, but a woman always remains a woman," François said holding his cup up.
"'ere's hoping women never change the world over," Newkirk raised his glass with the others, everyone toasting in unison.
"Any chance I'll be able to meet this woman?"
"She's not a local," Hogan said looking at his watch; it was a quarter to one. "We should try to get some sleep." The men said goodnight and went their separate ways. Alone in his room, Hogan took out a photo smiling at it whispering. I don't know where you are, but I wish you were here tonight. He put it back in its hiding place then lay down. Tomorrow night he could just be a man in the arms of a beautiful woman.