The sun was warm, the fields a deep earthy brown, and Bullfrog, North Dakota was at its most inviting. Little Deer Who Runs Swift and Sure Through Forest sat on the edge of the back porch of the Carter family residence, his feet swinging, soaking in the sunlight. His belly was full, and his head full of the latest family gossip. But strangely, he didn't feel at all at home.
"Little Deer, what's wrong?"
He whipped his head around. Brown Rabbit Who Finds Clear Streams sat next to him, looking questioningly at his older brother. Little Deer shook his head. Brown Rabbit had always been observant, but clearly he had only grown more so over the last several years.
"You've been so quiet since you got home. I know you said you didn't want to talk about the camp, but is there something that it would help to talk about? You seem like a different person."
Yes, he was a different person than before the war. So were so many others who had left, changed as they looked violence and death in the face, over and over again. But that wasn't Little Deer's problem. At least, not right now.
"Well, Bunny, there isn't much to tell. Just bad food, worse Krauts and the hopeless feeling of knowing I was out of the fight."
Brown Rabbit tilted his head. "I think it's something more. Something you're not telling us."
Well, that was certainly true. The Unsung Heroes' efforts during the war were still a classified secret. But Little Deer knew that wasn't what was bothering him right now.
"It's just…I miss my brothers."
"Your brothers? I thought I was your only one!" Brown Rabbit said, looking confused and a little hurt.
"Of course you are. I just mean…my friends at camp. Living through that together, we became like brothers."
"Tell me more about them?" Brown Rabbit asked, leaning his head on Little Deer's shoulder.
Little Deer took a deep breath. This felt wrong, like breaking an invisible line. These worlds weren't supposed to meet. But he missed them so badly.
"Sure. Let me tell you about when I first met them all." And even as he began telling a slightly altered story, one that lacked secret tunnels and explosives, he smiled just at the thought of them.
-0-
Carter folded in on himself, trying to retreat into the confines of his bunk. The glares he got from around the room did not diminish.
He'd been well aware his decision to return to Stalag 13 had been unpopular with command. The idea of a soldier returning to the 'traveler's aid society' with a familiar face that might make people wonder how it had ever left in the first place, was far too risky. Carter didn't care what they thought. He took the friendly advice, the orders, the insults, and even the demotion that came with being assigned there, without a flinch. This mattered to him. What he'd seen at Stalag 13, the work, the camaraderie, the difference it made…he wanted to be a part of it.
What he had not expected was the open antagonism from within the camp he would receive on his return.
"So…what's it like where you guys come from? All this snow's familiar enough to me, but does it snow in France? Or are there people from the South here? Boy, I remember one time back home that we had snow that practically came up to my head! Well, I was smaller back then, but still."
Silence.
Carter tried again. "Okay, so maybe the weather's got everyone a little chilly right now. Makes sense! Anyone want some coffee or something? I could warm up the pot!"
"Look, kid, we haven't had good coffee in weeks. So kindly shut up," said a man playing solitaire at the table in the center of the room. Olsen, if Carter remembered correctly. The one he'd switched places with.
"What happened? Don't you get supplies from London? Or Red Cross packages at least?"
Olsen grunted. "London hasn't been able to drop supplies because of the whiteout conditions, so the Red Cross has hardly been able to. Unfortunately we weren't blessed with that kind of luck with the sub that brought you in."
Okay, that stung. Carter shut his mouth.
At that moment, a crumpled cigarette box bounced off his head. Carter whipped his head around, but couldn't locate the source. He waited a few seconds. A piece of paper followed, landing softly on the top of his cap. It was the last straw.
"What's everyone's problem with me? What did I do to you?" Carter practically yelled.
A chorus of angry muttering immediately broke out.
"You put us in danger…"
"No clue what a prison camp is really like…"
"Just wants to be a hero…"
"What if he's a spy? Who comes back here willingly?"
Carter resisted the urge to scoot back as the men in the barracks closed in on him. He had to show he could go toe to toe with them.
A tall African American in the corner cleared his throat. Carter took in the staff sergeant band on his arm, and the way everyone went silent when he was about to speak. "Look, Carter, no offense meant. We're just a tight knit group, and some of the guys are still figuring out if we, they, can trust you."
Carter took offense. "Look, guys, I just came back because I wanted to help! You're doing important work here, and I chose to be a part of it."
"That's just it," someone above him growled. Carter jumped. He'd forgotten the unfriendly Cockney he shared a bunk with. That would be where the paper had been coming from. "We didn't just choose to be here. We've been here from the start. All of us, we got shot down, and ended up in this God-forsaken place. We lived here with all the darkness before there was any hope, and pulled some together out of scraps and miracles, paying the price over and over again to do it. But we managed it because we trusted each other. We relied on each other for so long that we know we can count on each other now."
Carter opened his mouth to argue. The Cockney kept right on going.
"Want to know whose bunk you're sitting in? That would be Jackson's. He died in a cave-in just three weeks into our operation. Over in Barracks Five? There's another bed empty, because Corbyn got himself shot trying to fix the wire. Minsk died less than a week ago of influenza because we ran out of medicine in the storm, and there was nothing we could do. There's a graveyard you could visit with a whole host of names. They all knew what they were getting into when they built this, and they were proud to make the sacrifice. But it's hell, watching people go on time after time while you're left behind to pick up the pieces. And then you come in, with your bright dreams and 'wanting to help', with not a clue what this operation all actually cost. How are we supposed to trust you?"
The silence laid there, heavy. Carter opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
Thankfully, this was the moment that Colonel Hogan chose to return. The bunk came up with a bang, and he sprang out from the tunnel, a blue note in his hand.
"We've got a new mission. Sabotage." The grin on his face reminded Carter of a snake wrapping around its prey. Thank the stars that Hogan wasn't his enemy. When command had let him know of Carter's desires, as well as his aptitude with explosions, he had been completely on board.
"Kinch, Newkirk, Lebeau…Carter. With me in my office."
Carter thought a lot of noise had been made earlier. It had nothing compared to the uproar that emerged now.
"Quiet!" Hogan said, and there was instant silence. What had he done to earn their loyalty, Carter wondered. It had only taken a few days before Carter wanted to be under his command, but after the Cockney's speech, clearly he had no grasp at all of the camp dynamics.
"What seems to be the problem here?" Hogan asked, in a tone that indicated there had better not be one.
A short Frenchman piped up from the bunk across from Carter. "Mon colonel, why should the new guy come along? We have much more experience!"
"The "new guy" is the reason we even have this assignment, Lebeau. Carter will be putting together the explosives for this mission, so unless you want to be blown sky high, let me do the planning, alright?" the Colonel said with a wink.
Carter's bunkmate spoke up. "Look, Guv, this is asking too much, offense meant, sir. You've already asked us to trust other men from other armies, which we did. But now we're supposed to trust a newbie? Someone who's been in camp two days? After putting us all in danger just by coming back?"
The chill in Hogan's tone was that of an officer who was not to be crossed.
"You'll trust him because there's a war on, Corporal. When it's over, we'll all know each other better."
"If we're all still here," Newkirk muttered, but the conversation was over.
-0-
"I don't understand," Brown Rabbit said. "They sound awful! Not even welcoming you when you got shot down just like everyone else?"
Little Deer tucked aside the truth of his return, and focused on what was the same in both stories. "But that changed. We knew each other better. By the end of the war, I heard more about Mavis, Newkirk's sister, than I ever wanted to know. I could tell you all the ingredients of a perfect boeuf bourguignon, even though Lebeau gave up trying to teach me to cook. Kinch gave me boxing tips and sparred with me, though he definitely let me win the few times I managed it. And Colonel Hogan…he respected me. He respected me when no one else would."
"And boy did they learn a lot about me! I told them about Mary Jane, about Bullfrog, about blowing up the school cafeteria…about you. And they listened."
Brown Rabbit said nothing, just nestled his head onto Little Deer's shoulder again.
"Looking out for you, Brown Rabbit Who Finds Clear Streams, has been one of my biggest joys in life. It killed me to leave you. Those guys, they looked out for me. It was nice to feel like I had four older brothers. I…I miss them."
I miss them and now they're across oceans or at the Pentagon, or even if they're close, at least three hours away. And it hurts to know I'll never live life with them again, even if what we went through was horrible. We trusted each other with our lives, in the end. I became a part of the family.
Brown Rabbit interrupted the lonely silence. "Living without you was terrible," he said bluntly. Bluntness was a Carter family specialty. "I'm sorry you feel that way now. Why don't you call them?"
"For one, we don't have a phone," Little Deer objected.
"No…really. There's a phone in your pharmacy. Why don't you call them?"
Little Deer took a deep breath. And held it. He didn't want to say it. Saying it might make it true.
Brown Rabbit looked at him, waiting.
"Because maybe they don't miss me," Little Deer said in a rush.
After a moment of silence, Brown Rabbit laughed. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Of course they miss you, Little Deer! From the way you talk about them, like they walked on the moon or something…you've said over and over again that they cared about you like older brothers. Of course they miss you! You missed me, right?"
"Of course! We share a bond as brothers!" Little Deer said, shocked at the question.
"So do you. Call them," Brown Rabbit said slowly. "Do you have a number to call?"
"I have one…" said Little Deer hesitantly. "Newkirk wouldn't stop talking about it when his sister wrote him that they'd had a telephone installed at their house. He said he was going back there, after the war. Gave me the number."
"Go on then. You have somewhere to be."
-0-
Little Deer held the receiver to his ear, and dialed the number, agonizingly slowly. The phone rang. And rang some more.
Finally it picked up.
"Hello, Newkirk residence, Mavis speaking."
"Hello…this is Carter calling? Sergeant Carter? Is Peter Newkirk there?"
"Mavis, love, who's that calling at this hour?"
Little Deer's heart dropped. It was him. He hadn't heard his voice in over two months, it was him!
"Oh how wonderful! Peter has told us all about you, let me give him the phone! Peter, it's Sergeant Carter!"
"What. You're joking, love. Let me see that!"
Little Deer waited, as the sound of rustling came through the receiver.
"Andrew! Is it really you, lad?"
"Yeah, yeah it is," Little Deer said, "Listen, Newkirk, is this a bother?"
"What, are you joking? It's so good to hear your voice!"
" I didn't mean to disturb you at this hour, I completely forgot it's late over in London…"
"Andrew," Newkirk said calmly. "Shut it. I couldn't be more fond of you if you were my brother, so call whenever you bloody well please. In fact, I can't believe it took you this long! What have you been up to? How is boring little Bullfrog?"
Andrew took a shaky breath.
And answered.