The underground explosion was powerful enough to loosen some of the roof panels in Barracks 2. Every man in the barracks ducked for cover, as a shower of dust and dislodged nails fell on them.
They'd heard plenty of loud noises from beneath the earth before, but never anything on this scale.
LeBeau, thrown off balance, grabbed at the edge of the table to steady himself. The mug of coffee in his hand went flying, although he managed to keep hold of the coffee pot. For three seconds he was too shocked to move, then he dived for the tunnel entrance.
"Someone watch the door," he threw over his shoulder, as the rest of the men followed.
The bunk over the tunnel started to rise, then stuck, and LeBeau spat out a few French curses as he slammed his fist against the edge. With a jerk, the bunk dropped again.
"Non, mais que c'est foutu, ce truc d'enfer." The words exploded from LeBeau as he went to hit it again.
The man at the door interrupted. "Schultz is coming. And he's really moving."
LeBeau swung round. "Everyone, look natural," he hissed. He was desperate to get below, but Schultz had to be dealt with first. Hogan, Kinch, Newkirk, none of them were available. It was up to him and the half-dozen men in the barracks.
They responded instantly, and within moments every man was doing something - reading a letter, inspecting a shirt for loose buttons, combing his hair. LeBeau scrabbled on the floor for the tin mug he'd dropped, and when Schultz burst in he was pouring coffee with a steady hand.
"Hi, Schultz, what's up?" he said casually.
Schultz was clearly agitated, his steel helmet askew, his rifle upside-down. "Did you hear that terrible noise? What was it?"
LeBeau shrugged. "I didn't hear anything. Did anyone else hear it?"
"How could you not hear it? I thought it was a bomb, it was so loud." Schultz gazed around, wide-eyed. The prisoners gazed back, each man a perfect illustration of bewildered curiosity.
"Sorry, Schultz," said LeBeau after a moment. "You sure you didn't dream it?"
"No. I was on patrol."
"Like I said," murmured LeBeau with a smirk, "maybe you were dreaming."
"Jolly joker," growled Schultz. "I do not sleep on patrol. Well, not very often."
"I heard a couple of planes go over," offered one of the others. "Sounded like Heinkels. Maybe they let one drop."
"I didn't hear any planes." Schultz turned a suspicious look on the man.
"You didn't?" LeBeau shook his head sadly. "No wonder you never know what's going on. Schultz, you should learn to pay attention."
"No, but wait a minute. Why would our own planes drop a bomb on us?"
"Accidents will happen," replied LeBeau.
Schultz wavered. "I think maybe there is monkey business going on. Now, sometimes I look the other way, because I hate to be a tattletale, but explosions I can not overlook. Not more than once, anyway. So tell Colonel Hogan from me...where is Colonel Hogan, anyway? And where is Newkirk, and where is..." He trailed off, looking around the room, suddenly aware the present headcount was only about half the full complement of the barracks. "Where are the rest of them?"
"Philosophy club meeting." LeBeau brought the lie out with perfect sincerity. A second later, he felt like slapping himself in the head. Philosophy club...?
"Philosophy club?" The tone of Schultz's voice was an exact match to LeBeau's mental self-reproof. "You're telling me Newkirk is interested in philosophy?"
"It's a great way to meet girls," said Adams, still at the door.
"And just where is this philosophy club meeting being held?" inquired Schultz, still skeptical.
"You sure you want to know, Schultz?" LeBeau met the sergeant's sarcasm with a sweet smile, and a gleam in his eye. He needed to wind this up, and to that end Schultz had to be hurried along.
He responded just as he was expected to. "No. I don't want to know anything. Just tell Colonel Hogan that if he must have explosions in camp, don't let the Kommandant hear them."
"All right, Schultz. But you know, there's a school of thought that says everything that is going to happen is predestined. So if the Kommandant is meant to hear them..."
Schultz interrupted this promising line of discussion. "And no philosophy in the barracks, verstanden?"
"Verstanden," agreed LeBeau.
With a grumble of frustration, Schultz straightened his helmet, shouldered his rifle and left the barracks. The men waited five seconds, then there was a rush for the tunnel again.
"Get it open," LeBeau snapped. "I don't care how, just get it open."
Kinch raced through the tunnel towards the lab. He'd grabbed a flashlight automatically as he left the radio room, but it was little help in the thick atmosphere close to the source of the blast, and he didn't see Mills till he ran into him.
They both fell hard, but Kinch was quickly up again. "You okay?"
"I think so," croaked Mills. "Carter..."
"The lab?"
"No. He'd just come out of there." Mills coughed. "He was..." He broke off, and started forward through the choking dust. Kinch kept close, and a few seconds later he saw Mills drop to one knee.
Carter lay motionless, close to the wall, covered with earth and debris. Kinch stooped to shine the flashlight on his face, but there was no sign of consciousness, or even of life. His head was cut open across the forehead, but there was no outward sign of other injuries. They turned him over on to his back, and Mills bent closer, trying to find a pulse, then in desperation leaned forward and put his ear to Carter's chest. Then he looked up and nodded. "He's alive."
"We better get him out of this. Wait," Kinch interrupted himself. "The lab."
"I'll go." Mills was on his feet at once.
"Take the light. And be careful."
Mills caught the flashlight as Kinch tossed it to him, and disappeared, while Kinch turned his attention to Carter. Urgent as it was to get him to safety, it had to be done without exacerbating any internal injuries he might have suffered. From what Kinch had been able to see, there wasn't much risk of the tunnel collapsing here, although the sounds he'd heard immediately after the explosion suggested that further along the roof supports might have failed. As long as there was no immediate danger, it was better to wait for help to arrive from the barracks before he tried to move his injured friend.
Most of the lights had gone out, and without the flashlight it was almost pitch dark. All the men dreaded the thought of being trapped down here without light, Kinch no less than anyone, but he forced himself to ignore it, and stayed where he was, one hand on Carter's shoulder, the other carefully brushing back the strands of hair that had fallen forward onto the wound on Carter's head.
It was a few minutes, but seemed hours, before he heard running footsteps, and saw the half-obscured flashlight beams of approaching help. "Over here," he called, the words catching in his throat with the dust.
"Kinch - Carter!" LeBeau landed almost on top of them, breathless. "Is he...?"
"He's alive, but I don't know how badly he's hurt," said Kinch rapidly. "We need a medic." One of the men went on the word.
LeBeau remained speechless, crouched at Kinch's shoulder, his eyes fixed on Carter.
"You others, check the roof, make sure it's safe. And someone better go to the lab," Kinch went on. "Mills went to check if everything was safe, and he hasn't come back."
LeBeau made no response, but a couple of the others slipped past and headed towards the lab. They had hardly started, when one of them gave a shout. "There he is."
Mills emerged from the dust haze, supporting another man. As the others rushed to his assistance, Kinch rose to his feet, leaving Carter to LeBeau's care. "Kellet? What the hell are you doing - never mind." He strode over as the other men moved to take Kellet's weight off Mills' shoulders.
Kellet was groaning, and favoring one leg, but Kinch ignored him. "You hurt?" he demanded of Mills, who once free had staggered a little, grasping his left shoulder with the opposite hand, and grimacing in pain.
"Nothing serious. The tunnel to Barracks 5 has fallen in," replied Mills breathlessly. "I had to dig that out from under it," with a jerk of his head towards Kellet. "One of the roof beams came down, and I didn't get out of the way quick enough. The lab's safe," he added, almost as an afterthought, "but you can write off everything in there."
"Okay, take it easy. Some of you guys, get these two up to the barracks. But the medic comes here first, understood?" Kinch relinquished Mills to the other men, and went back to Carter.
Another rumbling crash from the tunnel beyond the lab caused him to duck, trying to shield LeBeau and Carter from any falling debris. "Looks like they got out of there just in time," he murmured. "What was Kellet doing down there, anyway?"
LeBeau still didn't answer. His whole attention was focused on the unconscious man.
"He'll be okay, LeBeau," Kinch added. "How many times has he blown himself up, and come out without a scratch?"
LeBeau gave a little sigh. "Maybe this is when that changes," he whispered. And Kinch, looking down at Carter's face, expressionless under the dust and grime, felt a sinking sensation in his stomach, as he started to wonder if LeBeau might just be right.