Here's another story from very early in the operation. The Heroes have begun to retrieve downed fliers in earnest, but it is still very near the beginning of things. This means there's no Carter yet(sorry, Carter fans! I love him too!) and the operation is not as polished and smooth and Hogan hasn't quite gotten perfect at rearranging the facts on the fly.

Massive thank yous to my beta(s) and friends and to River95 who gave this the old once-over to make sure it didn't suck. It is only two chapters long.

Hogan wasn't certain how this simple retrieval mission had gone so wrong so quickly. His eyes took in the small group moving as silently as possible through the snow and brush. Kinch was virtually carrying Newkirk at this point, the Englishman gritting his teeth against the pain of a bullet lodged somewhere in his thigh. Hogan paused long enough for the downed flier they had grabbed to pass him.

He watched their back trail for only a few seconds, the quiet of the woods finally unbroken by shouted German. The SS patrol had surprised them as they finished burying the flier's parachute. Hogan had instantly sprinted for the brush and trees, the flier on his heels. Unfortunately the shouts of 'Halt!' had caused both Kinch and Newkirk to freeze in place.

He couldn't lay the blame wholly on the two men. Both of them had spent too long in the camps and automatically froze at certain shouted commands. To their credit, it was only for a split second before they took off at top speed right behind Hogan. But that was long enough for Newkirk to take a bullet in his leg. Hogan had no idea how badly hurt he was, they had only paused long enough for Kinch to wrap and tighten his scarf around the thigh wound.

When Hogan had asked how bad it was, Kinch replied in a low whisper, letting him know the bullet was still in the wound and Newkirk was losing a lot of blood.

Newkirk had been gasping raggedly with the pain and exertion. "I don't think it's broke… I can go..." Despite his claim, when the noises of the patrol came to their ears again, he hadn't been able to put weight on it and Kinch had begun to help him. It didn't slow them much. The sheer terror in Newkirk's face the first time he'd pleaded for them to leave him behind had clenched Hogan's stomach.

"Don't be stupid, we're not leaving anyone." Hogan fell back behind them briefly then moved ahead again, scouting ahead to make sure no SS patrols had closed off their route back to camp. The flier had been quiet, probably still somewhat in shock at being shot down and grabbed by strangers. Being shot at by the SS hadn't helped him any.

As they grew closer to the camp and the tunnel entrance, Hogan began to turn his mind from getting his men safely back to camp and to how he could possibly hide a gunshot wound from the guards and kommandant. He put a hand on the flier's arm to slow him down. "Easy..." he whispered. "Stay quiet, no matter what you see, it'll be okay." Hogan turned to see Kinch half-dragging Newkirk to the edge of the little clearing. "How is he?"

Kinch's voice was the merest whisper in the dark. "Pretty bad… he's in a lotta pain, sir. What are we going to do?" The deep voice now held a lot of concern and Hogan knew that his second-in-command was thinking of the same problems as he was.

"Get him in the tunnel first, worry about everything else afterwards." Hogan put a hand to Newkirk's chest feeling it heaving for breath. "Hey, Newkirk? You're going to make it."

"Sod off, I'm..." Newkirk inhaled sharply as his leg dragged against a low bush. "….fine…." His jaw clenched against any cry of pain. They were too close to the wire. One guard hearing them could send the entire operation into a tailspin.

"Okay… watch the searchlights." Hogan's advice was unneeded but he was beginning to feel just a tiny trickle of panic inside. He had a man with a bullet in him. He couldn't explain it away to Klink with some clever words. Newkirk needed medical care and they couldn't very well hide him in the damp dirty tunnels with an open wound. He needed to stay somewhere warmer and clean and where a medic or a doctor could treat him.

Reaching the tree stump, Hogan paused before darting forward as the searchlight passed and tugged it open. Ushering the flier down first, he ducked behind the stump for the next pass and then waved Kinch over. Getting Newkirk into the tunnel was hard and Hogan thanked his lucky stars that Kinch had come along tonight. His strength was all that kept the Englishman's body from tumbling all the way to the tunnel floor. One last pause and Hogan was down into the tunnel himself. Now he could finally breathe just a little easier. They were safe from SS patrols now.

One glance at the half-conscious man laying in the dirt floor of the tunnel reminded him that only half the problems were solved. "Okay, how bad is it?" Kinch was untying the scarf and Newkirk let out a loud moan. "Easy old man, we'll take care of you."

"Bloody 'ell… 'ow are you going to do that?" Newkirk made a face as Kinch jostled the leg. "Ahhh please don't…." His face turned to Hogan's with a desperate expression. "What will you tell Klink? If 'e knows I've been bloody well shot, 'e'll call the SS!"

"I'm not letting anyone give you to the SS." said Hogan in what he hoped passed for a calm reassuring tone. He still didn't know how to hide a gunshot wound. They'd had such good luck in the last half dozen runs outside the camp. Had they gotten overconfident? Had he led them into danger? "Kinch, is the bullet still in his leg?"

Kinch straightened up from trying to peer at the wound. "Just an entrance wound… it's still in there." He lowered his voice more. "Should I go get Wilson?"

Hogan nodded. "Go now, keep your head down though." He watched Kinch take off through the narrow tunnels to Wilson's barracks. Then he turned his attention back to the wounded man under his hands. "Let's get some pressure on this. Maybe we can stop the bleeding before Wilson gets here."

Newkirk jerked as Hogan leaned on the wound. The steady flow of blood lessened and the flow of soft curses increased.

Hogan felt helpless despite the bleeding stopping. He needed to come up with a scheme and he needed to do it now.

A throat was cleared behind him, reminding him of the flier. "Not to be a nosy nellie, but are we really under a POW camp?"

Hogan smiled at the young man. "Yep, sorry for the fuss. Usually this goes much smoother."

Newkirk lifted one hand weakly. "I'm just such a bother..."

"Shush you." Hogan lifted the cloth off the leg and saw blood well up immediately. He replaced the cloth quickly. "Wilson will fix it up, just be still."

"I was thinking, sir..." Newkirk blinked slowly, staring up at the dark roof of the tunnel. "Maybe I should just pass out now?"

"No!" Hogan shifted up to look at him closer. "Don't you dare. Just try to breathe and try to stop bleeding all over. It's making a mess."

"It doesn't matter… the SS will just shoot me again." Newkirk's voice sounded alarmingly weak now.

"I told you, no SS. Don't worry." Hogan looked down the dark tunnel. "Damn it, where IS Kinch with Wilson?"

Newkirk reached down to his leg, wincing. "That really 'urts. When Klink sees this leg, 'e won't 'ave any choice. Once 'e reports this to the SS, I'm done for. It's not like a guard shot me, sir."

Hogan's head snapped up at that. "No…" His thoughts seized on the tiny germ of an idea and tried to grow it. Kinch and Wilson came rushing down to Newkirk, Wilson making distressed noises at the puddle of blood. "Wait… everyone just wait a minute."

"We can't wait." Wilson reached to take the cloth away and poked a finger in through the hole in Newkirk's uniform pants. "He's lost a lot of blood already."

When Wilson reached for his medical bag, Hogan grabbed his wrist. "Stop. Don't treat him." Hogan got up and went to take Newkirk under his arms to lift him to a sitting position. "Sorry, I know this is going to hurt. Kinch… give me a hand, let's get him up."

Newkirk was swallowing back soft cries of pain as Hogan forced him up to his feet. Kinch moved to support him from the side. "Sir, he's hurt! Where are you moving him to?"

Wilson protested as well. "At least let me dress the wound! It's still bleeding! Where are you taking him?"

Hogan barely waited for Kinch to get under Newkirk's other arm. "We're going to throw him out in the compound."

End Chapter

What? Hogan why? I'll bet most of the readers have already figured Hogan's plan out. Stay tuned for the next chapter to conclude the exciting early adventures. Thank you for reading.