Road

"Bloody hell, there's another one."

Carter's eyes darted over to Newkirk's window. Through the heavy snow, he saw someone laying on the side of the road, unmoving. He tore his eyes away and focused on the road ahead. This was just the latest of many bodies they had seen on their trip. They had stopped checking if the poor men were alive after the first dozen. Some had frozen to death. A few had obviously been shot.

"Newkirk…" Carter didn't know what to say. How could they just keep driving? And, yet, how could they stop? He glanced over at Newkirk, who looked just as confused as he did.

"Carter, we have a job to do…" Newkirk said. "We… can't just… but then…" It was bad when even Newkirk didn't know what to say.

Carter caught sight of another man-shaped lump in the ditch. He suddenly slammed on the brakes. Though they hadn't been going very fast in the weather, the truck slipped on the ice and nearly went off the road before coming to a halt.

"I can't do it, Newkirk. I can't see another one and not do something! What if it was us? What if we were the ones being marched through this? The colonel will understand, won't he?"

Newkirk was quiet for a long moment. "He will. But will Olsen?"

Carter gulped down the lump forming in his throat. He looked back at the body and then at Newkirk. "He… I think he would stop," he finally said. Of course Olsen would tell them to stop. Would tell them to help. Like all of them, Olsen knew his life didn't mean a whole lot when weighed against so many others. That's why they took the risks they did.

Newkirk frowned and covered his mouth, pulling his lips into his fist. "It's a ruddy mug's game, Carter," he said quietly. Then he sat up straight in his seat. "Turn around. Let's turn around and find the rest of them." While they had seen the dead strewn about, they hadn't seen anyone alive walking down the road. They must have turned off somewhere to seek shelter for the night.

Carter dutifully maneuvered the truck, turning it around. As they drove back in the opposite direction, he looked into the side mirror, watching as the road to the Eastern Front fell behind them. Olsen would understand. Olsen would do the same thing. And there was still hope the Colonel could find another way to bring him home.

The two men drove in silence, scanning the road for any signs of where a column of men could have turned off. But the snow fell heavy and thick, covering everything including the tire tracks they had made not long before.

"Look," Newkirk said after an eternity. "Look there!" Carter slowed the truck and followed Newkirk's finger.

"I don't see anything," Carter said.

"A building. Some sort of outpost? We should look there."

"Okay." Carter didn't see a road, but the truck could handle most terrain so he turned in the direction Newkirk pointed. After a few moments, he could make out the outline of a small building. He gently pressed down on the gas pedal, urging the truck to move faster through the snow.

"I'll go look," Newkirk said when the truck stopped in front of the small shack. He jumped out and slammed the door shut. Carter chewed on his lip as he watched Newkirk cautiously enter the building. A moment later, Newkirk popped out again and waved Carter over.

Carter didn't dare turn off the engine– in this cold it would be hard to get it going again– and so kept it running as he hopped out of the cab. He flipped up the collar of the heavy German coat he wore and pulled down his cap to protect his ears from the blistering cold.

He met Newkirk at the door and the two entered the building. Carter gasped. Dozens and dozens of American and British soldiers were crammed into the small building, sitting on the floor and laying on dirty mattresses. Dressed in rags, they shivered against the cold, and Carter swore he could feel the vibrations of all their teeth chattering through the floor. A few didn't have boots on, exposing their swollen, raw feet. Several coughed and a few moaned.

Their German guards, Carter noted, did not look any better. It was obvious that all the men, captives and captors alike, were brutally exhausted.

"Achtung!" Carter said. The guards perked up and one even tried to stand, but Newkirk held out a hand to stop them.

"Where are you coming from?" Newkirk asked the guards.

"Luft Stalag III," one guard replied. "We have walked for three days."

Carter swore under his breath, so upset that it was in English. Three days walking in subzero temperatures? It was a wonder any of them were still alive.

"You're coming with us," Newkirk said.

"Now?" the guard asked.

"We have a truck," Carter said.

"A truck?" the guard repeated, confused. "But where did you get the fuel?"

"They sent a truck for us?" another guard said, sounding surprised as if it were too good to be true.

"We have a truck," Newkirk confirmed. "And we will take you into Germany. To Stalag 13." He looked to Carter, who nodded. Yes, they would take them to Stalag 13. And though food was becoming more scarce, LeBeau would see they were properly fed– many of the men looked as if they hadn't had a good meal in years which was probably true. And the colonel, after seeing how terrible these men looked, and knowing there would be more, would do everything he could to get more fuel and more trucks to mount a rescue operation.

"On your feet everyone," Carter said in English while maintaining a German accent. "We have a truck. You will ride the rest of the way."

The weary men began to murmur in disbelief. "Come on," Newkirk said in accented English. "You don't have to walk anymore."

Carter went up to a prisoner and held out his hand. The prisoner, an American, hesitated, but took it. Carter helped him to his feet. The prisoner almost immediately collapsed, but Carter kept him up. "Lean on me," Carter whispered, dropping the German accent. The American blinked, obviously confused. Carter held a finger to his lips. The American sighed and leaned against Carter, allowing him to help him out to the truck.

Soon, all the prisoners and their guards were loaded into the back of the truck. It was a tight fit and the truck certainly felt the extra weight, but there was no way Carter and Newkirk were going to leave anyone behind. Except… except the person they had originally come to rescue.

Newkirk clapped his hand on Carter's shoulder. "We'll find him, too," Newkirk said. "We won't leave him behind for long."

"Right. We're still coming for him," Carter said firmly. "And in the meantime, every one of those guys back there is going to know his name. He's the reason we found them, after all."

"They will," Newkirk nodded. "We'll make sure of it."