Staff Sergeant James Kinchloe of the USAAF was currently in a position that no airman expected to be in: five feet up a tree with binoculars in one hand and a handie-talkie slung across his shoulder. Scanning the woods, he immediately identified their target: a large ammunition factory. Correct that, a large and well guarded ammunition factory. From anti-aircraft guns to a squadron of fighters on standby, this factory was proving to be a very tough nut to crack.

When they learned the location of the factory two weeks ago, the heroes had radioed London the coordinates and they had sent a bomber squadron to take care of it. Two planes were promptly shot down by the anti-aircraft guns and the rest limped back to England. Last week the heroes had gone undercover and made a detailed map of all the locations of the guns and sent that off with the survivors of the last raid. While the intelligence helped the bomber pilots avoid most of the anti-aircraft fire, they still were overwhelmed by the fighter defense and similar results ensued.

With London demanding that the factory be taken out yesterday, the heroes shifted gears and got creative. Knowing that the factory itself was too well guarded, they forged orders to do repair work on the guns. Little did the Krauts know that the only 'repairs' they had made were to place small explosives in the guns' barrels so that when they were fired they would explode on their operators. The hope was that by removing one of the threats, the bombers would drop their payloads while their gunners took care of the fighters.

Third time's the charm. At least he hoped so.

Glancing around, Kinch checked in on the rest of his colleagues. Colonel Hogan and Carter were south while LeBeau and Newkirk waited to the west. They were all dressed in German uniforms and were prepared to pick up any downed flyers that dropped near them. Everything looked good. They just needed the bombers to arrive.

Continuing his observation, Kinch frowned as he noticed soldiers gathering near the closest anti-aircraft gun. Focusing his binoculars, his heart leapt as he noticed one of the men holding one of their explosives. The soldiers scattered towards the others gun and he knew that their plan had failed. Again.

Holding the binoculars with one hand, he grabbed the handie-talkie with the other. "Cub One to Papa Bear."

"Papa Bear speaking."

"Problem, sir: the Krauts have found the explosives. Mission failure."

"All of them?"

"They're inspecting all of the guns now."

The line went silent as Hogan debated their next move. Kinch kept his eyes on the factory and cursed as he realized what the soldiers were doing. "Sir, they're sending men to search the woods."

This time Hogan didn't hesitate. "Abort mission. Cub Three do you hear?"

Newkirk's voice came on the radio. "Roger wilco."

"Meet at rendezvous point two," Hogan ordered.

"Ten-four."

"Ten-four," Kinch said. Turning the volume on the handie-talkie down, he slung it back over his right shoulder. However, one last sweep of the woods with his binoculars kept him in the tree as four soldiers were headed his way. He barely breathed as they walked underneath were he hiding, praying that they didn't look up.

The seconds felt like minutes but the soldiers moved quickly on. However, Kinch took the time to scope out a clear path to the rendezvous before he started to climb down. The process was slow and awkward due to the bulky radio that slid down his arm. As he neared the ground, a familiar sound filled the air: the bombers had arrived.

Jumping the last foot to the ground, Kinch looked up as he saw the bombers approach the factory. The flak from the guns quickly filled the air as fighters from a nearby airfield descended on their prey. The lead bomber had no prayer as it was caught in the crossfire and exploded. No parachutes emerged from the debris.

Seeing that they were hopelessly outgunned, the rest of the flight abandoned their runs and turned back, leaving the still standing factory in their wake.

The truck ride back to camp was a solemn affair; men had died because of their failure. Nor did it help that it was long drive as this job was beyond their normal range of operations. They couldn't keep making these long journeys and not be missed back at camp.

Carter broke the silence. "Do you think London will have us try again?"

"I don't see how," Newkirk said, "that factory is an impossible nut to crack."

"They won't give up," Kinch countered. "They'll keep sending bombers until it's destroyed."

LeBeau sighed. "I just wish there was something we could do."

Analyzing the situation, Hogan said, "What our bombers need is a fighter escort. The fighters could knock out some of the guns and keep the Kraut fighters busy."

Newkirk wasn't impressed. "Sounds great, sir, but where are you going to find that mythological long range fighter that can do the job?

"They're not mythological," Hogan replied. "Our army is working on a prototype and I heard that it might be ready to go into production by the end of the year."

"Great, we just tell London to put the mission on hold for a couple months."

Kinch stroked his mustache as he thought aloud. "It's not the distance down that's the problem, it's the fuel. The fighters simply don't hold enough fuel to fly to Germany, dogfight and fly back."

"Good luck finding volunteers for a suicide mission," LeBeau murmured.

"Too bad General Kinchmeyer can't order the Krauts to escort the Allied bombers," Carter said.

Hogan smiled as a plan came to mind. "No, but he could convince the Krauts to lend us one of their airfields."

What? Kinch didn't think his CO was serious until one look at his face told him that Colonel Hogan meant every single word.

Once again, Kinch himself found perched high up; it was getting to be a habit with this mission. Though sitting at the top of a telephone pole in broad daylight was much riskier than hiding in a tall tree in the middle of the night. Telling himself that he had gotten away with this before, he doubled check his equipment, making sure the tap was successful and waited for the call he knew was coming.

He didn't have to wait. Looking over at Newkirk who seated beside him, he gestured for the Englishman to pick up. Kinch could see Newkirk's face change as he fell into character. "Operator," he answered in a feminine voice. "Connecting, wait please." His expression became more serious as he waited a few moments before saying in a gruff voice, "The office of General Kinchmeyer, Lieutenant Newkirkberger speaking."

Lowering the phone, but leaving it so their voices would still be picked up, Newkirk said, "Herr General, a Colonel Mues wishes to speak with you."

"Who?"

"Colonel Mues. He runs an airfield outside of Düsseldorf."

Hesitating long enough to make Mues nervous, Kinch finally said, "I will speak to him."

"The General will speak with you now."

Kinch grabbed the phone and brought it to his ear. "General Kinchmeyer speaking."

"Herr General, I have a man here who claims to be from your office."

"Ah, yes, I did send Major Hoganbecker to visit. Did you not understand his orders?"

"I understood them, sir, but you must admit that they are rather unorthodox."

Kinch steadily raised his volume. "Unorthodox! These orders were approved by Goering himself. Do you feel that you are beyond helping our men on Russian Front achieve our inevitable victory?"

"No, Herr General! It's just not easy to transfer an entire base of men in a day."

Kinch huffed. "You have planes, do you not? I fail to understand these complaints over what is a short term assignment. Fly out, assist the Fatherland in achieving victory in the east and be assured your airfield will still be standing when you return. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but…"

"But! But! How dare you question the word of your superiors? I have never heard such treasonous protests. Report to Eastern Front or to Berlin for your court-martial!"

Handing the phone back to Newkirk, he let his friend deal with the Colonel's groveling and sudden change of heart. After hanging up, Newkirk shook his head in amazement. "I don't believe it. This guy is really going to hand control of his base over to us."

Kinch grinned. "Think of it: we'll be the very first clandestine unit very with our very own air base!"

After evening roll call, the heroes moved into their home for the night. Now that they gained control of the base, they needed to hold it for the next twelve hours. Kinch inspected the control tower while Newkirk and LeBeau began organizing the ground crews. It was a point of pride for those two, who had both been captured during the fall of France, to remind all those who had been shot down that the work of those on the ground was just as important as those in the air. Plus, the corporals were enjoying the chance to boss around some of their higher ranked colleagues.

So while the rest of POWs worked out things below, Kinch placed a call to Stalag Thirteen.

"Stalag Thirteen, Sergeant Bakenhoffen speaking."

Kinch smiled. With Baker intercepting all calls to the camp, it was important the keep up appearances just in case. At least, at first. "Baker, it's Kinch. Call London and tell them the mission is a go."

"Ten-four."

As Kinch hung up, Colonel Hogan walked into the room. He looked tired as he rubbed his forehead."Problem, sir?"

"Just averting a civil war. Apparently, the RAF and the Army of the Air run their ground crews a little differently."

Kinch couldn't help it, he laughed. Newkirk and LeBeau would probably bicker over every little thing but he had zero doubts that they would have things running smoothly by the time the fighters arrived.

The phone rang and Kinch quickly picked up the phone."General Kinchmeyer speaking."

"It's Baker. Mama Bear sends their compliments and reports that everything is on schedule."

"Roger," Kinch replied as he ended the conversation. Glancing over at his CO, he said, "Looks like we're really going to do this, sir."

Hogan placed a strong hand on his XO's shoulder. "Well, it is about time you were given your own command, General."

"Then get to work, Colonel."

The next hour was nerve-racking. Kinch was used to waiting. It was an essential part of working in communications. But it was something else to monitor the radio and the radar knowing that while he waited a squad of fighters was making its way up from Italy and through Germany. The whole mission depended on them on arriving safely and undetected.

The hour passed and no contact was made. Another fifteen passed and Kinch sent a quick message on the correct channel. "Papa Bear to Red Leader," he tapped out in Morse code. The silence was deafening. He tried not to think about what could have gone wrong but it was impossible not to. The fighters could have been discovered and shot down. They might have gotten lost or been forced to turn back. No, he couldn't think like that. He needed to stay positive.

A sudden burst of clicking dashes and dots was one of the most beautiful things Kinch had ever heard as the message came through loud and clear. "Red Leader to Papa Bear."

"Papa Bear here. Are you ready to receive your final approach?" As an added layer of security, the incoming fighters had no idea that they were headed toward a German airfield. To be fair, Kinch doubted that they would have believed it. As he began the complicated process of sharing the navigational coordinates via Morse code, Hogan stepped out to help the ground crew finalize everything down below.

Blips on the radar showed that the squadron was within range. Kinch counted the dots and was pleased to see all twelve fighters had survived the journey. At this time, the radio crackled as the fighters were now close enough for voice communication. "Red Leader to Papa Bear."

Kinch answered and they two men exchanged the necessary information to begin landing proceedings. After ensuring that the runway was clear, he gave clearance for the first plane to land. As the fighter landed, Kinch's heart leapt for joy as he did not fail to notice that the tail of the plane was painted red. Suddenly, his worries eased. They were going to pull this off! He had no doubt. For Mama Bear had sent them the very best.

Kinch was spreading out a map on a table in the control room when Colonel Hogan led twelve men into the room. Speaking to their CO, Hogan said, "Major Carroll, this is my XO, Staff Sergeant James Kinchloe."

After exchanging salutes, Kinch shook the man's offered hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir." He could tell that the Tuskegee Airman was as pleasantly surprised to see him as Kinch was to know that Allied Command had trusted the Red Tails with such an important mission.

Addressing the arrivals, Hogan gestured for them to be seated. "I suspect you are wondering why we had you fly all the way to Germany."

Carroll said, "We are, sir. Though I'll confess that I'm even more curious to know how you got the Krauts to let you borrow their base."

Hogan smiled. "The Krauts believe this base is currently under the command of General Kinchmeyer."

The airmen looked confused until they realized that the Colonel was talking about the colored man standing next to him. One lieutenant raised his hand. "You're telling me that you convinced the Germans that he's a German general?"

"If you think that's impressive, you should see him convince the Krauts he's Hitler." When the laughter died down, Hogan nodded to his XO. "Kinch."

"Sirs, your target is an ammunition factory east of here. Bombers have tried and failed to destroy this factory due to a strong enemy defense of both anti-craft weaponry and a strong fighter defense. It is our belief that with a fighter escort, we will finally succeed in taking out the target."

It was a little intimidating to be an enlisted man briefing a room full of officers. Not because Kinch feared these men, but because he respected them. At Tuskegee, he had admired the pilots and sought to follow their example in everything he did. For these were the men that had blazed the trail for him, the men who had convinced the army that colored men could fly and that they could fight.

"I've confirmed with London that the bombers will arrive at the target at 0325. Which gives us twenty minutes until you need to take off. If you would look at this map, we have marked out the route that should help you avoid enemy radar. When you reach the target, we ask that you take out the anti-aircraft defense and protect the bombers from enemy fighters. Any questions?"

After all the work, after all the planning, the POWs gathered in the control tower for the hardest part of the night. For this was the most important part of the plan and the only part of which they had zero control over what happened. Everything was in the hands of the Red Tails and a flight of RAF bombers.

Hogan paced, Carter chatted with some of the other men picked to fill the ground crews, LeBeau murmured softly to himself while Newkirk shuffled a deck of cards. The tension was unmistakable, but Kinch forced himself to ignore it all as he continued monitoring his equipment.

A burst of Morse code came through the headset and Kinch pressed it close to his ear to make sure he didn't miss a single dot or dash. "The Red Tails have made contact with the bombers and are moving in."

Kinch felt Hogan walk over and grip his shoulder. This was it. Men were now fighting and dying in order to prevent the Germans from producing the weapons to kill even more of their own. Not a single person in the room spoke and a few didn't even move as the minutes ticked by.

When a message finally broke the silence, it was two simple words. "Target destroyed."

Kinch threw his hands into the air. "They did it! We're cooking with gas!"

The men behind them whooped and hollered as they slapped each other on the back. They'd done it. They'd finally done it. However, Kinch focused on blocking out the sounds of the celebrations behind him because he knew that the mission was not over. It was a relief when he could report, "The bombers are headed back to the England; the fighters have lost their pursuit and they're headed back here."

With those words, the celebration ended, and the work began again. "Let's go, boys," Newkirk ordered, leading the crew down to the tarmac.

By the time everyone was in place, the Red Tails showed up on radar. Kinch fought back the lump in his throat as he said, "Colonel, tell Newkirk and LeBeau to expect ten planes."

Hogan nodded, the meaning not lost on the officer who was used to, but never comfortable with, ordering men to their deaths. Kinch, however, was not familiar with being in this position. While it had been Hogan's plan, he had helped work out many of the details and he had been the man who had briefed the twelve men on their mission. They all joked that this was General Kinchmeyer's command.

Voices came over the radio and Kinch pushed away his thoughts and focused on getting the survivors down in one piece. The refueling process went quickly as they kept the pilots in their fighters and by the time the final plane had landed, the first one was ready to take off again.

As he watched the Red Tails fly off into the night, part of the POW wished that he could join them. For those men knew what it was like to walk in his shoes, to have to fight for everything you achieved. They understood what it was like to fight two wars at once: one abroad and one at home.

Rarely did men get the change to meet their heroes and Kinch couldn't let his leave without saying goodbye to his. "Godspeed, sirs."

When static was his only reply, Kinch feared for a second that the planes hadn't received. But one pilot switched over to his short-wave and sent back one of the shortest and most powerful communications he had ever received. ". . . - . . . - "

VV. Double V. The victory for which all the Tuskegee Airmen fought and died.

Several days had passed since Kinch had returned the still functioning airfield to the Kraut commander it really belonged to and he was taking full advantage of a lull in operations to enjoy a new book. Well, sort of new; the dog-eared, slightly tattered and well-worn novel had been read by many, but it was new to Kinch, which made it worth its weight in gold. He had just started on the first page when Carter burst into the barracks, saying, "Burkhalter just pulled into camp."

LeBeau groaned. "Not another surprise inspection."

"With some luck, it'll be another mission," Hogan said.

Kinch put the book down. "I'll put the coffee on."

The POWs gathered in Hogan's quarters in time to hear Klink switch into full 'suck up to the brass' mode. "It is an honor, sir. As always, we at Stalag Thirteen are here to serve the General in whatever you need."

"Shut up, Klink. I don't plan on staying here any longer than I have to."

"Yes, Herr General. Shutting up, Herr General."

The look that Burkhalter must have given Klink must have been withering; Kinch wished he could have seen it.

"I am looking for General Kinchmeyer. I seem to recall hearing his name when was in this area. Unfortunately, I am having trouble contacting the man as someone in my office has misplaced his personal file." There was no doubt from the tone of Burkhalter's voice that he considered misplacing a file to be an offense worthy of sending the person responsible straight to the Russian Front. "Do you know how I can contact him?"

"What do think he wants?" LeBeau asked.

Kinch shrugged. "They probably discovered what we did at the airfield and want to bring him up on charges." He had figured that this latest caper was going to lead to the General's retirement.

"General Kinchmeyer? No, I don't recall meeting with him."

"Klink, think! This man is a hero of the Third Reich. The Fuehrer wishes to personally give him a medal."

Newkirk snorted. "I wish I could see that. Might give ole scramble-brains a heart-attack."

"Then our side will be the ones giving you a medal!" Carter exclaimed.

"Oh, that General Kinchmeyer. I spoke with him a few times over the phone. I thought he was stationed in Berlin. What did he do?"

"The General arranged coverage for a local airfield so that a much needed fighter group could provide support on the Eastern Front. This strategic thinking enabled our valiant fighters to beat back a surprise Soviet attack."

Hogan gestured for Kinch to unplug the pot while he laughed. "Gee, a guy tries to be a good enemy and we end up doing the Krauts a favor."

Embarrassed by the turn of events, Kinch winced. "I don't think this is an honor I'll be writing home about."

Placing a hand on his radioman's shoulder, Hogan said, "I wouldn't worry, because when this war is over, the Allies are going to be tripping over each other to give medals to the best general that they don't even know they had."