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Carter looked up at the fleet of airships passing overhead. They may have been German, but he enjoyed watching them. It gave him something interesting to look at, breaking up the monotonous days.
LeBeau came up next to him, holding a garbage picker in his hand. “I hate when they do that.”
“Do what?”
“That,” LeBeau said, gesturing to the airships. “We all know they only come this way so they don’t get shot down by our side.”
“Well, yeah. How else are they going to get to where they’re going?”
“They’re cowards,” LeBeau spat.
“It’s just strategy.”
“Bad strategy,” LeBeau muttered.
“If only we had a big anti-aircraft gun. Then we could shoot ‘em all down! Bam! Bam! Bam!” Carter suddenly looked wild, the way he always did when he got to talk about blowing things up.
Newkirk came strolling across the compound. “What are you yelling about now?”
“Just what we’d do about all those kraut airships if we had the chance,” LeBeau said.
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” Newkirk mused. “Carter, Colonel Hogan said he needs you in the barracks.”
The wild look in Carter’s eyes disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. “Ok.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and headed towards Barracks 2, calm as anything.
LeBeau stabbed a piece of trash off the ground and put it in his sack. “I’m sick of this place.”
“I know, Louis. We all are. But we’ll get out of here soon enough.”
***
When Carter entered the barracks, they were empty. It was a nice day, and everyone was outside getting the exercise promised to them by the Geneva Convention.
Everybody except for Kinch and Colonel Hogan, that is.
Carter opened the tunnel entrance and climbed down.
“Ah, Carter! Just the man I wanted to see!” Colonel Hogan said, straightening from where he was bent over a mechanical tank. He lifted his goggles to rest on his hat.
“That’s what Newkirk said,” Carter said. He looked at the contraption. “What have you got?”
“We’ve got the kinks in the track worked out, and the chassis is coming together pretty well,” Kinch said. “It’s just that we can’t quite get the timing on the firing mechanism quite right.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, replacing it with a streak of grease.
Carter took a look. “Have you tried tightening the actuator?”
“We did, but that just increases the firing pressure.”
“Hmm.” Carter slipped his goggles over his eyes and leaned over the machine. He took a couple of tools out of his pockets and started tinkering around.
“Oh! I think—yeah, what’s this piece? Right here?”
“That?” Kinch turned his headlamp on with a click and leaned in. “That’s to reinforce the gyroscope.”
“Have you tried—” Carter reached deeper into the machine and made some adjustments. “Try it now.”
Colonel Hogan waited until Carter took his arm out of the machine to turn it on. Kinch hit a few switches and dials, and the gun started to go through the motions of firing.
“That is much better,” Kinch said. He had taken off his headlamp to wind it up.
Colonel Hogan clapped Carter on the shoulder. “Good work, Carter.”
“Thanks, Colonel.”
Carter turned to go, but then a thought occurred to him and he turned back around. “Uh, Colonel?” he asked. “How are we going to get this out of the tunnel?”
“We’ll just have to take it apart and reassemble it in the barracks,” the Colonel said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
“Right,” Carter said. He looked at Kinch, who looked just as confused as he felt. But Colonel Hogan was already getting back to work, so Carter climbed back up the ladder into the barracks.
As he shut the entrance to the tunnel, something bumped into his foot. He bent down and picked up a small, clockwork mouse, made of scraps of brass and with a soft leather tail and ears, all held together with polished rivets. It had taken Carter three months to gather all the materials needed to put the mouse together, and another four to build him.
“Hi there, Felix,” he said. He could feel the metal gears turning within the mouse’s brass skin. “I guess it’s time to wind you up.” He took a matching brass key out of his pocket and inserted it into the small keyhole in Felix’s back. He turned it until it wouldn’t turn any more before returning the key to his pocket. “Do you want to come along for a ride?” He unzipped his leather flight jacket and tucked Felix into his shirt pocket. Then he zipped his jacket back up, but not all the way, so that Felix could still sense the world around them. The feeling of the humming clockwork against his chest was grounding, distracting him from all the troubles and worries that came along with being stuck in a POW camp.
Carter left the barracks and wandered outside. He spotted Newkirk fiddling with something in his hand.
“Whatcha got there?” Carter said.
Newkirk palmed the item, and the next time he opened his hand, it was nowhere to be found. “Nothing,” he said. “Hey, have you, eh, seen Felix lately?”
“Sure,” Carter said. The hum in his pocket seemed to grow stronger at the sound of the mouse’s name. “I just wound him up.” He frowned. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just—” Newkirk looked around furtively, “I saw ol’ Schultz bring Klink’s cat back from the repair shop in town this morning.”
Carter wrinkled his nose. “I thought we got him for good last time.”
“It seems that we thought wrong.”
“At least I know that Felix is safe for now.”
Newkirk gave him a look. “He’s in your pocket again, isn’t he?”
“Shhhh! Not so loud!” Carter protested, placing a protective hand over said pocket.
“One of these days, Carter, Klink will catch you with that thing, and then you’ll really be in for it.”
“Don’t call him a thing!” Carter said. “He’s a mouse. He’s my friend.”
“He’s a children’s windup toy.”
“Oh, yeah? Then tell me why you were just working on another trap for Wagner.”
A flush rose in Newkirk’s cheeks. He scoffed, clearly trying to hide it. “Because, mouse or not, I can’t stand that cat.”
“Mmhmm. I thought so.”
LeBeau came over to dump the garbage in his sack into the trash can. “Any news?”
Carter filled them in on the tank’s progress. Then he told them what the Colonel had said about rebuilding the tank in the barracks.
“That’s crazy!”
“How are we supposed to hide the bleedin’ thing from the krauts?”
“I’m sure the Colonel will think of something,” Carter said.
“I don’t know, mate. I think this time he’s really gone off his rocker.”
***
That night, Colonel Hogan gathered the gang to update them on the tank’s progress and deliver the same news that Carter had shared earlier that day.
“Up here?”
“But Colonel—”
“There’s no way—”
Hogan held up a hand, and the men fell silent.
“We don’t have much of a choice. London wants us to act now. Tomorrow, we’re going to begin dismantling the tank and reassembling it up here in the barracks.”
With the Colonel’s hand still in the air, none of the men dared protest the lack of forewarning. Newkirk raised his own hand.
“Yes, Newkirk?”
“Colonel, I just had one small question,” he said. “Where exactly are we going to hide a tank in our barracks?”
“Oh, here and there,” Hogan said.
***
Early the next day, Kinch and Carter began taking the tank apart, labeling the pieces, and sending them up to the barracks with the other prisoners. Clearly, Colonel Hogan had been planning on this from the start, because the pieces came apart easily, and most of them were surprisingly small. The prisoners stashed the pieces all over the barracks—in bunks, pillows, footlockers, the rafters, the wood pile, the coal bucket, and all of their secret hiding places (and a few more that they’d created on the spot).
LeBeau looked around the barracks once they were finished. “We did a pretty good job,” he said.
“Yeah, who would think we had a whole tank hidden in here?” Newkirk said.
“Good work today, men,” Colonel Hogan said.
“Now all we gotta do is put it back together again,” Kinch said doubtfully.
“All in good time,” Hogan said.
***
Later that day, Schultz came to collect Colonel Hogan for one of his frequent meetings with Colonel Klink. The rest of the men went outside.
Carter spotted Wagner, the Kommandant’s metallic, feline automaton, on the far side of the kommandantur’s porch, absorbed in something that Carter couldn’t see. He walked over to where LeBeau, Kinch, and Newkirk were standing. A fleet of airships passed overhead.
“That’s two in as many days. I wonder where they’re all going,” Carter said.
“I wish I were flying up there instead of stuck down here,” Newkirk said.
“What would you do on a kraut airship?” LeBeau asked.
Newkirk shrugged. “Probably kill everybody on board and fly it to England.”
“All by yourself?” Kinch said.
“Sure, why not? It’s my fantasy, isn’t it?”
Carter’s attention had turned back to Wagner. Something didn’t feel right. “Say, has anybody seen Felix lately?”
“No.”
“Not since yesterday.”
Newkirk followed Carter’s gaze and saw the same thing he did. “Oh, no,” he said, and he started to run. Carter, Kinch, and LeBeau followed close at his heels.
They came upon an ugly sight. As they ran up, they watched as Wagner went from batting Felix back and forth between his paws to picking him up in his mouth and shaking him back and forth.
The four men began to shout as they descended on the mechanical cat, desperately trying to pull Felix from his grasp without damaging the little mouse any further.
The door to the kommandant’s office flew open to reveal two colonels, one very angry and one very curious.
“What is going on out here?” Colonel Klink shouted.
“It’s this stupid, bleedin’ cat again…” Newkirk trailed off as he turned around and realized who he was talking to. “I-I mean—”
“What Newkirk is trying to say,” Colonel Hogan cut in, “is that he found poor Wagner getting into the drain pipe, and we don’t want him to rust, especially not so soon after he came back from the repair shop.” The rest of the men chimed in in agreement.
“Oh. Well, keep it down out here,” Colonel Klink said before turning around and going back inside.
“You naughty thing,” Newkirk said to Wagner.
“Bad cat,” LeBeau said.
The door opened again, and Klink stomped out. Wordlessly, he reached through the crowd of POWs and took Wagner into his arms before stalking back into his office.
The men turned their attention back to Felix.
“How is he?” asked LeBeau.
“Is he ok?” asked Kinch.
“What’s going on?” asked Hogan.
Carter carefully opened his hands to reveal a very battered clockwork mouse.
“Oh,” Hogan said as Kinch started carefully gathering up the scraps of metal scattered around them.
“If I ever get my hands on that cat, I’ll—” Carter stopped, too choked up with tears to go on.
Newkirk put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Andrew. Let’s get him inside and see what we can do.”
***
Carter sat under the harsh, bright light of the ceiling lamp. His tools were neatly laid out in front of him, and the rest of the men of Barracks 2 huddled around him. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
“Screwdriver.”
“Screwdriver.” LeBeau handed him the screwdriver.
“Hammer.”
“Hammer.” Colonel Hogan handed him the hammer.
“File.”
“File.” Kinch handed him the file.
“Screwdriver.”
“Screwdriver.” LeBeau handed him the screwdriver again.
“Sponge.”
“Sponge,” Newkirk said, using said sponge to mop the sweat from Carter’s brow.
Carter worked long into the evening. The men hardly dared to breathe for fear that doing so would somehow further damage their beloved mascot.
At some point, LeBeau peeled himself away so that he could put together dinner for the men, but nobody really ate much. Newkirk especially was more concerned about making sure that Carter had the occasional bite of food than with having any of his own.
“Screwdriver.”
“Screwdriver.”
“Oil.”
“Oil.”
“Tweezers.”
“Tweezers.”
“Hammer.”
“Hammer.”
“Tweezers again.”
“Tweezers.”
The door opened and Schultz entered.
“I am here to do the bed check.”
“Schultz!”
“Close the door!”
“You’re letting in a draft!”
“Ok, ok, ok,” Schultz said, shutting the door behind him. “You would think it was the middle of winter, with the way you guys are carrying on.” His eyes caught on Carter, who was still working diligently on Felix. “What is he doing?”
“Nothing, Schultzie.”
“Nothing at all.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be counting us? Here, I’ll start you off.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Schultz said, holding up his hands in a vain attempt to settle the men down. “I see metal and tools! You know they are verboten!”
“What tools?” Colonel Hogan asked, making no move to hide them from Schultz’s sight.
“The ones right there! On the table!” Schultz said, pointing. He looked closer. “What-what-what-what is that?” He moved in to get a better look and softened. “Awww, it’s a little mousey! Isn’t that cute!” His demeanor suddenly changed from that of a man cooing over a cute animal to that of an attack dog who was much more bark than bite, but wasn’t really much of either at all. “You are not supposed to have that!”
“Come on, Schultz, it’s nothing to worry about,” Hogan said. “What harm can a bunch of prisoners do with a clockwork mouse?”
“It is against regulation!”
“Ok, Schultz. I see where you’re coming from.” Colonel Hogan put an arm around him and led him back towards the door. “You have no choice but to report this to Kommandant Klink.”
“Exactly,” Schultz said, breaking into a relieved smile. “Thank you, Colonel Hogan. You are always so understa—”
“Of course, you’ll also have to explain to Klink about how we got all these tools into camp.”
“Oh—well—”
“Not to mention, we’ve had Felix for months now, and I know ol’ Iron Eagle is going to want to know why you hadn’t figured that out sooner.”
Schultz took a deep breath. “I see nothing! No-thing!”
“That’s more like it, Schultz,” Colonel Hogan said, giving him a pat on the back. He opened the door. “Have a good night, Schultz. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Schultz began to leave the barracks before turning right back around. “Wait! I still have not done the bed check!”
“It’s alright, Schultz. I’ve counted for you. We’re all here.”
“Colonel Hogan, you know I must do it myself,” Schultz said.
“Alright. Suit yourself,” Hogan said.
Schultz began to count. “Eins, zwei, drei, fier…” His voice trailed off into a whisper as he counted. Once he finished, his voice broke into a big smile. “All present and accounted for!”
“Hey, would you look at that!” Colonel Hogan said. “Good job, Schultz.”
“Danke,” Schultz said. He finally headed for the door, wishing everyone a “guten nacht” on his way out.
The men rushed back to the table, where Carter’s concentration hadn’t broken for a moment.
“Carter? How’s it going?”
“Pretty good, I think,” Carter said. “File.”
***
Carter set down his last tool and picked up the polishing cloth. By now, most of the men had fallen asleep, either in their bunks or where they sat around the table. But Carter didn’t care how late it was or how early he would have to wake up tomorrow morning. He gave his little clockwork mouse a good polishing and then took the key out of his pocket. He wound it up and then set it down on the table, holding his breath.
In the nighttime quiet, Carter could hear the gears within clicking and turning. He could tell that there were some that needed further adjusting—some filing here, some straightening there—but nothing badly enough that it couldn’t wait.
Finally, Felix slowly began to move. He wheeled across the table and bumped his nose into Carter’s hand, much like he had bumped into Carter’s shoe to say hello the day before. Carter turned him around so that he could move around unobstructed, but Felix did an immediate U-turn and beelined right back to Carter’s hand.
This time, Carter picked him up.
“Are you feeling better, little buddy?” he asked the mouse quietly.
Felix’s gears whirred in response.
“Yeah, I can see you are. Do you want to explore a little?” He carefully set Felix down on the ground.
Once again, Felix did an immediate U-turn and bumped into Carter’s foot.
“You want to stay with me for a little while? Ok. We can do that.” Carter set Felix down on his bunk while he got undressed. He turned out the light—which, by all rights, should have been off hours ago—and climbed into bed, moving Felix so that he was next to his pillow. Tomorrow, he would run some tests, check that Felix could still navigate obstacles and avoid being stepped on. But tonight, it was enough to keep Felix close. “Good night, little buddy,” he whispered into the darkness, and the whir of the gears inside the clockwork mouse answered him back.
***
“Alright, men. We’ve got to work fast,” Colonel Hogan said. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to keep Schultz from reporting this one, so we can’t risk letting him—or anybody else—see what we’re doing. We’ll guard the door in shifts; Walters, you’re up first.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“The rest of us are going to put the tank back together in parts. We’ll put the chassis in my office, the tracks and wheels together behind those bunks over there, and the turret will go behind these bunks over here. Then we’ll assemble the gun over there. We’ve still got the engine downstairs; we’ll put that in last, along with the ammunition. Kinch, Carter, and myself will be keeping an eye on things if you need any help. Any questions?”
“Where are we going to put the whole thing together?” LeBeau asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” the Colonel said. “Anything else?”
Nobody spoke up.
“Good. We’ll also have to take shifts outside so that the krauts don’t get suspicious about us all spending the day cooped up in here.” Colonel Hogan named about five men to head out with strict instructions to start trickling back into the barracks in about an hour. Then he split the remaining men up into groups, told them which numbered parts of the tank they were looking for, and then sent them all to get to work.
When London had given orders all those months ago to build a tank in preparation to liberate the entirety of Stalag 13 and march all the way to the French border, Hogan had thought an enemy agent had gotten ahold of the frequency. It had taken quite a few confirmation phrases from up the line of command before he was convinced that it really was London on the other end, and even then, he still wasn’t entirely convinced that Axis agents hadn’t hijacked high command, or that the stress of the war hadn’t finally gotten to the high brass. But after spending long hours otherwise occupied by building the tank thinking it over, Hogan had started to see that London had a larger plan in mind, one that he himself could have come up with. And he had started to think that maybe this crazy plan had a chance of success.
“How’s Felix doing?” LeBeau asked as he fished for parts under a mattress.
“He seems to be doing ok,” Carter said, gently patting his shirt pocket where Felix was hanging out, his gears and springs whirring steadily. “He doesn’t seem to want to stray too far, which is probably a good thing today.”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want him getting underfoot with all this going on,” Kinch said.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Carter laughed.
“If this escape plan doesn’t work, we’re going to have to find a way to get rid of that Wagner once and for all.” Newkirk said.
“Even if it does work, I wouldn’t mind getting rid of Wagner for good before we leave,” LeBeau said.
“That’s not very nice,” Carter said.
“He’s a German cat who tried to murder your American mouse. He doesn’t deserve ‘nice.’”
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that. Is Felix an American just because he was made by one, or does being built here make him a German?” Carter said.
“According to American law, that gives him dual citizenship,” Kinch said.
“Huh,” Carter said, thinking about it. “Do you think that puts him on our side or theirs?”
“I would hope that he’s on our side,” LeBeau said. “The only thing he knows of their side is a cat who keeps trying to eat him.”
Carter thought about that, too. “You know, I don’t think a clockwork cat can really eat much of anything.”
LeBeau rolled his eyes and walked away towards a stack of bunks that hadn’t been checked yet. Newkirk pulled Carter’s hat over his eyes before heading off to check for parts in the hollow in the bucket of wood they kept for the stove.
Kinch leaned in over Carter’s shoulder and told him, “I don’t think that makes much of a difference.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Carter said. “Hey, do you think Felix would go after cheese even though he can’t eat it, either?”
But by that time, Kinch had walked away, too, and was taking stock of which turret pieces had been found.
***
The POWs continued to work at finding and reassembling the pieces of the tank, each taking their turn out in the compound so that the guards wouldn’t notice anything amiss. By late evening, they’d managed to find all the parts and put each section of the tank back together.
Kinch knew that Schultz would be in soon for bed check and lights out, so he went down into the tunnel to check on the radio.
It was quiet underground, which was nice after the hustle and bustle in the barracks all day. Kinch sat down in front of the radio and wound it up with the big key attached to the side. Listening to the click of the radio and feeling the tightening of the spring had become a sort of a ritual. He looked forward to it every day, almost as much as he looked forward to hearing the radio crackle to life with the latest directive from London, a reminder that there was still a world outside of Stalag 13 and Nazi Germany.
***
“How are we going to hide all of this from ol’ Schultz?” Newkirk asked. Most of the men of Barracks 2 had gone back to their bunks to unwind and get ready for bed. Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter had gathered around Colonel Hogan at the table in the middle of the barracks.
The entrance to the tunnel opened, and they all turned to see Kinch emerge. He came over to the table and handed the Colonel a piece of paper. Hogan took a moment to read it before addressing the men. “The krauts are preparing to push into France and are gathering troops near the border.” France may have managed to remain free of Germany up until now, but nobody was sure of how long that would last.
“That must have been where those airships were headed,” Carter said.
Colonel Hogan continued, “London’s sending a fleet of bombers to take out their forces before they can invade, so while they’re doing that, our job is to keep the German brass from sending reinforcements by escaping Stalag 13.”
“Tonight?” Newkirk said.
“How long did you expect us to hide the tank for?” LeBeau said.
“By now, with our hold on all activities outside the camp, we’ve lulled the Germans into a false sense of security, so we have the element of surprise on our side. Either we’ll tie up German forces here at Stalag 13, or they’ll be too busy at the border to deal with us. Regardless, coordinating our escape will ensure that more of our men make it out to fight another day.” Colonel Hogan paused to let his words sink in. “After Schultz is done with bed checks, start spreading the word. Kinch and LeBeau, I need you to use the tunnels to tell the rest of the barracks that we’re moving tonight. Make sure to remind everyone we can only bring what we can carry.”
“Right.”
“Oui, Colonel.”
“Once you’re done, start taking apart the radio so we can bring it with us. There’s a good chance we’re going to need it before we reach France."
“Got it.”
“Schultz is coming,” Addison said from the door.
The prisoners of Barracks 2 sprang into action like a well-oiled machine. They covered up the pieces of the tank with blankets and positioned themselves on and around the bunks to hide as much as possible.
Schultz came into the barracks and heaved a weary sigh. “Oh, you would not believe the day I had,” he said.
“Uh, yeah, Schultz,” Hogan said.
“We’re all here, Schultz. You don’t need to worry about counting us tonight,” Newkirk said
“That tells me that I definitely need to count everybody.”
“We were all here last night. Why would tonight be any different?” LeBeau said.
Schultz laughed. “‘Why would tonight be any different.’ Jolly joker.” He raised his hand to begin his count.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Colonel Hogan said.
Schultz considered for a moment and then shook his head. “Sometimes it is nice to know exactly what it is that I don’t know.”
He proceeded to count the men, and sure enough, they were all present and accounted for.
Schultz laughed. “All that for nothing.”
“Just keeping you on your toes, Schultz,” Colonel Hogan said.
Schultz turned to leave but stopped when the blanket-covered chassis caught his eye. He went over to investigate.
“What is this?” he asked, lifting the corner of the blanket.
Hogan slid over and pulled the blanket out of his hand to keep the chassis covered. “Oh, this?” he said, trying desperately to keep his voice even and nonchalant. “It’s, uh…” He couldn’t think of anything. He gestured to the men in the hopes that one of them would come up with something before Schultz took it upon himself to investigate any further.
“It’s a birthday present for the Kommandant,” Newkirk supplied.
“Right. Exactly. A birthday present for the Kommandant,” Colonel Hogan said.
“Aw, how nice. I—” Schultz frowned. “It is not the Kommandant’s birthday.
“Of course not,” Carter said. “If today was his birthday, we would have given it to him already.”
“Oh, ja, of course.” Schultz turned to leave again, but then he stopped. “But it is not near the Kommandant’s birthday, either.”
“With a present as big as this one, we had to get an early start,” LeBeau said.
“Oh, ok.” Schultz turned to leave a third time, and a third time, he stopped and turned back around. “You’re really doing that much for his birthday?”
“Yes, we are. But according to my watch, it is past our bedtime,” Colonel Hogan said, ushering Schultz out of the barracks.
“I’m sorry; I should not be keeping you awake.”
“Apology accepted. Good night, Schultz.”
“Good night.”
A chorus of “good night”’s followed Schultz as he finally left the barracks. As soon as the door shut behind him, the men sprang back into action.
LeBeau and Kinch disappeared into the tunnel. Carter, Newkirk, and the Colonel quickly (and quietly, in the off-chance that a guard was passing by their door) spread the word within the barracks that they would be escaping in just a few hours, and they began packing.
For the most part, the men focused on the essentials—a change of clothes, food saved up from their Red Cross packages, a toothbrush, a bit of soap. They didn’t have any papers to carry or civilian clothes to change into. With a tank leading the way, there would be no hiding that they were Allied soldiers.
Carter took Felix out of his shirt pocket and held him so that they were face-to-face.
“I don’t know how much you’ll be able to explore on our way to France, so I’m going to let you out so that you can run around a bit before we go.”
Felix’s gears whirred just a little stronger, as if in protest.
“I know, I know, but Wagner can’t get you in here, and it might be your last chance before we get to France.”
“You taking that thing with you?” Newkirk said.
“Of course he is. Never underestimate the friendship between a boy and his mouse,” Kinch said, returning through the tunnel entrance.
“I’d like to think that if I tried to leave him behind, somebody else would take him along,” Carter said. “Maybe even you, Newkirk.”
“That reminds me,” LeBeau said. He patted Newkirk’s pocket. “Don’t you have a present to give to our resident mouse killer before we leave?”
“Oh, bugger off,” said Newkirk, a flush rising in his cheeks. He turned back to his footlocker to continue packing.
Carter set Felix on the floor. “Be careful, now. There’s a lot going on in here, and I don’t want you to get stepped on.”
Felix bumped into Carter’s foot.
“Go on. Nobody will step on you on purpose. Just make sure you watch where you’re going.”
Felix turned around and started slowly wheeling across the floor. Gaining confidence, he sped up, and soon, he was scurrying around the barracks with as much enthusiasm as he had had before his latest encounter with Wagner.
The men had long ago sealed the cracks in the shutters and the door so that the lights wouldn’t shine through after lights-out. That really came in handy now. The Heroes worked well into the night, making sure they had everything they would need on their march to France.
A red light by the tunnel entrance began to blink. Kinch opened the entrance and descended to check the radio, coming back up just a few minutes later.
“London has given us the go-ahead for 0200 hours, Colonel,” he said.
Colonel Hogan nodded. “That gives us about an hour. Did you synchronize your watch?”
“Yes.”
“Ok. The rest of us will synchronize ours to yours.” He turned to the rest of the barracks. “All right everybody, listen up! I need everyone to finish getting your things together, then meet down in the tunnel to get ready. Carter, Newkirk, go let the other barracks know to do the same.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
***
Once the plan had been gone over and weapons had been distributed, everyone returned to their barracks to finish tying up any loose ends and, in the case of the men of Barracks 2, finish putting the tank together.
“Quickly and quietly. We don’t want to raise any suspicion,” Colonel Hogan said, surveying the men as they scrambled around him.
Kinch looked up from where he was hammering rivets and raised his goggles. “I don’t know how quiet I can be, Colonel.”
Colonel Hogan cracked a small smile. “Just do your best.”
The barracks hummed with nervous energy, and they all knew that the other barracks were just the same. Or maybe even worse, because those men didn’t have much of anything to do with that energy. At least in this barracks, they had the tank to focus on.
Something bumped into Colonel Hogan’s foot. He bent down to pick up Felix, who had scurried over on his three little wheels.
Colonel Hogan opened his mouth as if to say something but then seemed to think better of it. “No,” he said, “I am not going to start talking to a mechanical mouse.” He bent back down to gently set Felix back on the floor, and Felix scurried off.
**
It was ten minutes to two o’clock. Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau, and Kinch were sitting on the tank, waiting until the last minute before they climbed inside, not knowing how long it would be before they would be able to come out again. They had already wound it up nice and tight, so they had at most two hours, maybe three if the roads weren’t too bad, before they would be forced to stop. There was room for five inside the tank, but Colonel Hogan had decided to keep that fifth spot clear for now. They’d spent the last few months learning how to operate it, though they hadn’t been able to practice. Tonight, they would find out how good their training had been.
“Could you imagine if we’d been able to make tanks for each of the barracks?” Carter said. “We would be unstoppable!”
“And where would we have gotten all that scrap metal?” Newkirk said.
“Who cares. Even one more tank would put us in a much better position,” Kinch said.
“Maybe we should have bombed more trains and gotten the metal from there,” LeBeau joked.
Colonel Hogan checked his watch. They had practiced getting into the tank earlier, so they knew exactly when they would have to get in so that they would be ready on time.
“Places,” Hogan said.
The men climbed into the tank and took their seats.
“We’re all set, Colonel,” Kinch said into the radio transmitter.
“Good. On my signal,” came the response.
Carter felt the comforting whir of Felix’s gears against his chest. Soon it would be competing with the vibrations of the gears in the tank.
“I told you before, it’ll get a little loud in here, but that’s ok. Don’t worry,” Carter said to his pocket.
“Are you talking to that bleedin’ mouse again?” Newkirk said.
“Now!” Colonel Hogan’s voice cried over the radio.
The tank roared to life. LeBeau put it in gear and off they went, right through the barracks wall.
The camp immediately exploded into chaos. Prisoners poured out of the barracks. The alarm rang out. The spotlights turned toward them. Shots rang out.
But still, the tank pressed on.
“Now?” Carter asked.
“Now!” Kinch shouted.
Carter pulled the trigger, sending a burst of shells right into the gate.
“Fire!” they heard Klink shout.
Carter turned the turret towards the guards, most of whom had rushed into the compound straight from their beds. He pulled the trigger again. From within the tank, they could hear Klink shouting madly from the front door of his office.
“You think Wagner is out?” Newkirk said.
“Yeah, I see him over by the guard tower,” LeBeau said.
“Pretending that nothing is going on, as usual,” Kinch said.
“See that we pass by him on the way out, will you?” Newkirk said.
“We’ll try,” Kinch said.
“Newkirk, I need more ammo!” Carter shouted.
“On it.”
Men shouted. Shells exploded. Bullets played their concussive drumbeat against the tank's armor. And the POWs of Stalag 13 continued to advance.
The tank drew closer to the gate, the men close (but not too close) behind. The Germans in the guard towers had begun to open fire, so Carter turned the turret towards them and released another hail of bullets, toppling each tower to the ground.
Newkirk took the opportunity to open the tank’s hatch and threw something in Wagner’s direction. Wagner stopped grooming himself (none of the prisoners had ever been able to figure out what a clockwork cat could possibly accomplish by grooming himself) and went over to investigate. He sniffed at the object, creeping closer and closer until…
ZAP! Wagner made contact with the device, and he froze as an electrical current began to course through his body, lighting him up brightly enough that the men who were watching saw spots.
“Ha ha, that’s right! Take that, you smelly old cat!” Newkirk laughed. The men, both inside and outside the tank, gave a cheer. If the prisoners didn’t know any better, they’d have thought they heard a couple of the guards cheer, too.
Nobody liked that cat.
The battle quickly resumed. Newkirk ducked back into the tank and closed the hatch firmly behind him.
“Don’t just stand there! Stop that tank!” Klink screamed so loud that the men could practically hear the veins popping on his forehead.
“Sounds like ol’ Klink is going to give himself a heart attack,” Kinch said, unable to keep the smile from his face.
“I almost feel sad for him,” Newkirk said.
“Do you really?” asked LeBeau.
Newkirk thought for a moment. “Nah,” he said. “A man with a cat like that isn’t worth a bean.”
Bullets flew through the air as the guards continued to fire wildly.
“I don’t think our guards were assigned to Stalag 13 for their good aim,” Kinch said.
“Why should anybody need good aim in a camp where nobody ever escapes?” LeBeau said.
“I just hope Schultz doesn’t get hurt in all of this,” Carter said.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Newkirk said.
“If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s saving his own skin,” Kinch said.
The tank drove through the front gates of Stalag 13. Colonel Hogan led the rest of the prisoners closely behind.
They traveled on. The residents of Hammelburg remained hidden in their homes, more concerned with staying alive than with keeping a camp’s worth of prisoners from escaping.
“It’s strange that we haven’t run into any Gestapo,” Carter remarked. “Or soldiers.”
“They all must be over at the border,” Newkirk said.
“That must be some offensive,” LeBeau said darkly.
“But all of them?” Carter said.
“Think about it. Stalag 13 is the only camp in Germany without a single recorded escape,” Kinch said.
“Was the only camp without a single recorded escape,” LeBeau corrected.
“Why waste men in an area where nothing ever happens?” Kinch said.
“Plenty of things happen by Stalag 13.”
“Not anymore, they don’t. We haven’t gone out in months. We’ve hardly even helped anybody escape back to London. Like Colonel Hogan said, we lulled them into a false sense of security.”
“Still, it all seems a bit too easy,” Carter said.
“It won’t be for very long,” Newkirk said.
Colonel Hogan didn’t give the order to stop until they were far away from town, out in the middle of nowhere. LeBeau, Kinch, Newkirk, and Carter tumbled out of the tank, grateful for the fresh air, sweat gluing their hair to their foreheads and their undershirts to their bodies.
The Colonel gathered the men together. “I need everyone in formation, just like at roll call. I expect a status report from each section[1] commander in 10 minutes.”
The boys from Barracks 2 got in formation closest to the tank just in case they had to get back in in a hurry.
“I think our tank needs a name,” Carter said.
“Nobody names tanks. They only give names to airplanes,” Kinch said.
“So?”
“We ought to name her ‘Lady London,’” Newkirk said.
LeBeau wrinkled his nose. “Definitely not,” he said.
“We could name her after Felix,” Carter suggested.
“You guys will have plenty of time to name the tank later,” Colonel Hogan said as he finished counting his section. “All present and accounted for,” he murmured to himself. “Any injuries?”
“I twisted my ankle on the way out of camp,” Olsen said.
“Can you walk?”
“Sure.”
Colonel Hogan nodded. “Let me know if it gets any worse.”
The section commanders began to report in. There were a number of superficial injuries, most from shrapnel, nothing that Wilson couldn’t take care of out here in the field. The most worrying injury was a bullet wound to the shoulder over in Barracks 3, but once Wilson had seen to him, Mills insisted he’d be fine, especially with O’Brien nearby to keep an eye on him. Colonel Hogan offered him the empty spot in the tank if he needed to rest along the way. The last thing they needed was for a man to suddenly collapse on this crazy journey back to Allied territory.
Colonel Hogan climbed onto the tank so that he could address everybody. A hush fell over the crowd as they saw that he was getting ready to speak.
“All right, men,” Colonel Hogan said. “Getting out of Stalag 13 was just the beginning. We’ve been lucky so far, but we can’t expect that luck to hold all the way to the border. The journey will be difficult. It will be long. We’re going to need courage, grit, determination, all of which I’ve seen from each and every one of you time and time again. I know that we can not only reach the border, but that we can wreak as much havoc on Nazi Germany as we can along the way. We certainly have enough experience with that.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Colonel Hogan sobered as he continued. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it—this is going to be one of the most dangerous things you do during this war. We have nothing to fall back on but our training. No supply trucks, only the food, ammunition, and medical supplies that we can carry on our backs. No base to return to each night, nowhere to fall back to if we find ourselves outmatched.” The Colonel took a deep breath. “It might be that some of us may not make it. No matter what happens, I want you to know that you have been the finest group of men I have ever had the privilege of serving with. Once we get to France, I will be putting each and every one of you in for a citation.”
Up in the front row, LeBeau raised his hand in salute. Next to him, Newkirk did the same. So did Kinch and Carter, and, one by one, the men of Stalag 13 all raised a hand to salute their colonel.
Colonel Hogan looked out over the men. His men. Pride swelled in his chest. The next few days would be full of uncertainty. They didn’t know what they would encounter on their way to the French border, who would make it, who they would have to leave behind. But Colonel Hogan knew one thing for sure: there wasn’t another group of men like then in all the world.
Colonel Hogan returned the salute, and if they didn’t know better, the men might have said that they could see tears in his eyes.
Colonel Hogan lowered his hand and turned to Newkirk, Carter, Kinch, and LeBeau. “Back in the tank.”
The tank crew scrambled back inside and resumed their places.
“Company! Forward, march!”
And with that, they were off to the French border.