Chapter Sixteen: Gone to the Dogs

Kinchloe was on pins and needles at the morning's roll call. Hogan seemed confident. But he always seemed confident and sooner or later the officer's plans would have to come crashing down around him. However, Kinchloe reminded himself that for his CO's plan to have any chance of working, he needed to look normal. He did not want to be the person who gave the game away.

Slowly working his way down the line, Schultz continued the twice daily count. "…drei, vier, fünf …" As the guard came to Crane, he froze. From the look on his face, it was clear that he knew that this was not one of his prisoners. "Colonel Hogan!"

"What's the matter, Schultz?" Hogan asked nonchalantly.

"Who is this man?"

Hogan glanced over at the man Schultz was pointing to. "Olsen? Surely you haven't forgotten what he looks like."

Schultz did not look convinced. "I know what Olsen looks like and this is not him."

"Check his dog tags."

Schultz shot Hogan an exasperated look but, after reading the tags, the guard shook his head. "I must be going crazy."

"Report!"

Schultz turned and saluted his commanding officer. "All present and accounted for."

Relieved that Schultz had fallen for their stunt, Kinchloe turned his head to the side to hide a grin and noticed that a few prisoners from Barracks One were looking their way. Apparently, they were watching the scene with Schultz with interest. Had someone noticed Crane? Even though Kinchloe knew that they wouldn't be able to keep Crane's presence in camp a secret from their fellow prisoners for long, he hadn't thought anyone had had an opportunity to notice yet.

When Klink dismissed the prisoners, LeBeau shook his head. "Poor Schultz. I don't think I've ever seen him so confused."

"I can't wait to see the look on his face when the real Olsen gets back," Newkirk added eagerly.

Crane frowned. "Are you sure your man will be back?"

"Oh, Olsen will be back," Hogan reassured the officer. "He enjoys the thrill of sneaking out too much."

The RAF officer didn't seem convinced. "If you say so, sir."

As the rest of the men headed back into the barracks, Kinchloe kept his eye on the group of prisoners from Barracks One who continued to glance suspiciously his way. "Colonel," he said softly, "I think we've been discovered."

Hogan followed the radioman's gaze. "Finally."

That was it. Hogan was an enigma and there was no point in trying to discover the reasons for the officer's nonsensical actions as they all seemed to have a purpose in the end. So when Hogan gestured for Kinchloe to follow him, the sergeant simply fell in step behind him.

An RAF sergeant glared at them as they approached. "So Colonel Krautlover has remembered that he has men he is supposed to care for instead of helping our Kommandant with security."

Kinchloe felt uneasy as the rest of the men from the hut gathered around the speaker. They were hopelessly outnumbered if something went wrong, but Hogan seemed unconcerned. "Shall we go inside?"

Another Brit spat at the ground in front of them. "We don't let traitors into our barracks."

Hogan shrugged. "Fine. I guess I won't explain about the new man we have in Barracks Two then. Come on, Kinch, let's go."

Guessing Hogan's game, Kinchloe turned and started walking. It didn't take long to get the reaction they wanted. "Wait." The two conspirators turned and were reluctantly invited into the nearby hut as curiosity won out over suspicion.

Once inside, Hogan did all the talking, which was perfect as far as Kinchloe was concerned, as it let him pay close attention to what the Colonel did and did not share. Hogan explained that he hadn't turned traitor and used the story of Crane's rescue as his proof. He mentioned the work on a tunnel and alluded to the presence of a radio. He promised the men that when the time came, they would escape with him.

However, the opening in the wire remained a secret. Clearly, Hogan didn't want anyone taking advantage of it before he was ready for the escape.

After letting the news sink in, Hogan asked, "Can I count on your assistance?"

To a man, the residents of Barracks One agreed. The possibility of escape was too tempting to pass up.

As Kinchloe followed Hogan back outside, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. It wasn't that he feared that the other prisoners would squeal. No, it was that Hogan had just made it sound like they had a clear and good plan, when in reality they were flailing around trying to find a way to achieve the impossible. What would happen if the plan failed? These men would not forgive easily.

Finding the courage to speak up, Kinchloe said, "Sir, have you thought about what we will do if Olsen returns and we still have no plan for getting Crane out?"

"I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. How close is the radio to being finished?"

"I should have it done by the end of the week, but I still need to know what frequencies to use."

Hogan sighed. "I'll add that to the list."

At that moment, Kinchloe felt like he could see the weight of command on his superior's shoulders. Hogan dreamed big, but in attempting to implement those dreams he had made a lot of promises that he now felt obliged to live up to. By speaking up, Kinchloe feared he was only adding to that burden. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to suggest that you don't know what you are doing."

"No, you're right to voice your concerns. They're things I have to consider."

In spite of all the crazy things Hogan did, nothing failed to shock Kinchloe more than the officer's steadfast tendency to treat him as a valued member of his team. It won't last forever, a small voice in the back of his head whispered. Once you've finished that radio, he won't need you anymore and then where will you be?

His depressing thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sounds of an argument brewing around the side of their hut.

"Come on, Newkirk," LeBeau hissed softly. "She won't hurt you."

"Not this nonsense again," Newkirk protested.

Kinchloe raised his eyebrows as he glanced at Hogan. Who in the world was LeBeau talking about? The last time Kinchloe checked there were no women, expect for Klink's secretary, in this camp. Hogan jerked his head to say that they should check it out and so the two men rounded the corner and saw Newkirk standing cross-armed across from an almost pleading LeBeau.

"I'm telling you the dogs are friendly," the Frenchman insisted.

Kinchloe held back an audible snort. LeBeau must be talking about some other dogs, because there could be no way that he was referring the ones in camp.

Newkirk, too, refused to be convinced. "That dog was just happy she caught us. Or did you miss her growling when we were escorted back to camp?"

"She didn't growl until Schultz showed up," LeBeau insisted. "She was growling for the guards."

Newkirk shook his head. "You're getting as crazy as the Colonel."

"I am not crazy! And I can prove it!"

Hogan cleared his throat; clearly, he had had enough. "What are you two going on about?"

LeBeau looked thrilled to see them standing there. "Come with me and I'll show you."

Kinchloe glanced over at Newkirk who rolled his eyes. However, they followed the Frenchman and watched as he coaxed one of the dogs to come to the wire. "Meet Heidi. Sit, girl."

And without hesitation the large German shepherd sat. And if Kinchloe wasn't mistaken, Heidi was also wagging her tail. He must have looked like a fool with his mouth hanging open. How in world had LeBeau managed to tame one of the dogs?"

Hogan looked impressed. "Well, I'll be darned." Then moving slowly he reached out and scratched the dog behind her ears. That caused her tail to go faster. "How did you tame her?"

"I didn't," LeBeau announced. "The dogs are all like this. Someone else trained the dogs to be friendly to the prisoners."

Kinchloe was skeptical. "I've seen them act pretty vicious."

"When the guards are around," LeBeau clarified. "Get any of the dogs alone and they act like big puppies."

"I don't know, LeBeau," Hogan said. "Just because one dog is tame doesn't mean that the whole pack is."

"Sir, I tested a few of the others and they all act like this. Mean around the guards and friendly to me."

Hogan seemed to be considering these new facts. "You think their handler trained them to be this way?"

"Yes. Who else could it be? You've seen him. He comes by twice a week to change the dogs."

Kinchloe, keeping an eye on the compound, said quietly, "Goon coming."

"Shoo," LeBeau ordered, pushing Heidi away. And to Kinchloe's continued amazement, she ambled off.

Once the guard had passed, Newkirk confronted Hogan. "Sir, you don't actually believe in friendly guard dogs, do you?"

"Stranger things have happened over the past few days," Hogan joked. "Besides, we have to try to contact someone and Olsen has had no luck in town."

LeBeau looked thrilled that he was being believed. "Colonel, the next time the veterinarian changes the dogs I can hide in the kennel and make contact."

"That's risky," Kinchloe said. "What if you're wrong? He could order the dogs to attack you on the spot."

Standing straight, LeBeau proudly declared, "I am a Frenchman. I am willing to take this chance for my country."

Hogan was convinced. "Okay, here's what we are going to do."

A loud cheer went up from the other side of the compound. Someone must have scored and LeBeau used that moment to sneak as close to the dog pens as he dared. Clayworth and Bennett had rounded up a large group of English prisoners on the premise of holding a rugby tournament. In LeBeau's opinion the barbaric sport seemed like an excuse for the prisoners to try and kill one another. However, there was no denying the fact that the game had succeeded in gaining a lot of attention both from curious American prisoners and the guards who weren't sure whether they should be cheering or breaking up a fight.

A ball went flying through the air in what LeBeau knew was an intentional kick directed straight at the barbed wire. The voices of both prisoners and guards started shouting over one another in several languages as they argued about who should go after the ball.

While this was going on, LeBeau slipped into the pens easily; none of the guards were even looking in his direction. The dogs, however, immediately noticed the presence of a human in their home. "Easy girl, easy boy," he repeated like a prayer, hoping that he had judged the dogs correctly.

The pack gathered around him, tails wagging, poking him with their noses, begging for scratches. Knowing that the distraction wouldn't last forever, LeBeau pushed through them until he was kneeling in front of one of the doghouses, which was currently occupied.

"Raus," he ordered gently. But the dog growled softly on hearing the German word. Thinking fast, LeBeau tried again. "Va t'en, out!" The dog stretched and slowly ambled out of the doghouse, letting him hide inside. "Good, girl."

The rest of the dogs seemed amused by his presence in their domain. Several of them made sure to sniff the Frenchman and lick any exposed skin. Once his face was thoroughly washed, LeBeau reached out and scratched the closest dog while checking his tag. "Yes, I like you too, Fritzi."

Pleased by the human attention, the biggest and fiercest looking of the dogs lay down in front of the doghouse, effectively blocking him from the view of any of the guards. "Good, boy, Bruno," LeBeau praised, and was rewarded with another kiss. He was right; the dogs were on the prisoners' side!

As the noise in the yard died down and the minutes passed, LeBeau became aware of the consequences of his hiding place. The kennel smelt like wet dog and even though he was on the smaller side, his began to ache muscles from curling up inside the doghouse.

Just a little longer, he told himself.

He heard rather than saw the van as it parked outside the kennel. He strained his ears and listened to the sounds of footsteps and doors opening and closing. However, he didn't have to try so hard as the dogs themselves made it clear with friendly barks and wagging tails when their owner had entered the pen. So when the veterinarian dropped off the first dog in the pen, LeBeau called out softly, "Psst."

The older man's eyes widened as he spotted LeBeau, but he didn't call out.

This was it; the moment of truth.

"Did you train the dogs to be friendly to the prisoners?"

The man nodded and then clipped a leash onto another dog's collar and led him to the truck. As he returned to pen, LeBeau asked softly, "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

The old man leaned down to take the dog lying next to LeBeau. "Can you get out of camp?"

"Yes."

The veterinarian quickly described the location of an abandoned barn five kilometers out of camp and they agreed to meet at midnight tonight. LeBeau watched as the German finished his job in the pen and then drive away as if nothing happened. That was a good sign; it suggested he was an experienced operative and not just some random ally operating on his own.

About twenty minutes later, LeBeau heard three quick sharp whistles. That was the signal that the coast was clear. He made it out of the pen without any problems; the dogs seemed to sense that he needed to move quickly and didn't get in his way. Resisting the urge to whoop for joy, he headed towards Barracks Two. He would enjoy watching Newkirk's face as he shared the news.