This wasn't how he would have envisioned spending the Fourth of July.

This was the thought inside Carter's mind as he laid on a hard bed--if one could call it that--in the cooler, at Stalag 13, late the night of July third. He thought of how he wound up in this cell:

My ability to create explosives is, well, kind of advanced. Along with that comes knowledge of other things that blow up...namely, fireworks. I found a way to create some beautiful ones! Red, white, blue, orange...I mean, I probably should have known better than to try it in the first place tonight, but I wanted to ring in the Fourth with a bang!

It could have been a really nice celebration, had one firework not misfired and landed on the roof of Klink's office. I tried to explain it was an accident, but heck, who'd believe that, even in wartime?*

I guess I can't really blame him for being upset about it. Still doesn't make being here any easier though.

HHHHHHHHHH

WHAM! Klink slammed a pile of paperwork down on his desk. Really, why did Berlin require him to do so much paperwork that he had to stay up til midnight to complete it? I can't even see the floor, there's so much here. For a moment-only a very brief moment-he almost wished he was in America, where tommorow would be considered a holiday. Speaking of Americans...his mind wandered to the hole in his roof. I don't understand why they think fireworks are such an important part of their little freedom celebration anyway. Besides, they aren't even free right now. You'd think they'd be tired of that sound...with all the horrors of war. Oh wait... isn't it a tradition from their long conflict with England? You'd think the Englanders would be offended by it. To think they'd be allies in this war...

HHHHHHHHHH

Schultz sighed as he walked back and forth on guard duty that night. His feet hurt, and he was hungry and tired...

"Psst! Schultz!"

Schultz jumped when he heard a whisper through a crack in the window shutter.

"Newkirk! What are you doing with the window open at night? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Aww, Schultzie, I was wondering if you could give a chocolate bar to someone for me."

"To who?"

"Carter."

Schultz wavered. He wasnt supposed to do anything like this. But he did feel sorry for Carter. The food they fed them was so terrible--he didn't like to see anyone go without food, even the enemy--and the fireworks had been fun to see...before they landed on a certain someone's roof, that was.

"I'll give you one too, if you do it," Newkirk interrupted his thoughts.

Schultz couldn't resist that offer. "Okay, I'll do it...but just this time."

"Thanks, Schultzie! You're the best enemy a man ever had!"

HHHHHHHHHH

Newkirk felt bad for Carter being stuck in the cooler on July Fourth. Sure, he might not exactly celebrate the holiday where he came from, but that didn't mean he hadn't enjoyed seeing the fireworks and seeing how much joy it gave the others. Oh well. He'd at least managed to send a chocolate bar though Schultz. He'd have to give one up to Schultz too, sure, but...his magic fingers would make up for it later. Funny how his old knowledge of pick pocketing had been good for something after all these years. I suppose when you've got it, you never really lose it, do you?

HHHHHHHHHH

Lebeau had almost been downright insulted when some of the Americans asked him to cook "something that tastes like American food" for their Independence Day. How dare they say such a thing? They really had no respect for good French cuisine. After all, didn't he work hard day in and day out to try to do his best with the limited food they had?

Ah, but such complaining did no good. Sometimes the Americans and their ridiculous ways made him so mad (especially Carter and his stupid fireworks stunt) that, despite the fact he would lay down his life for any one of his friends in an instant, he almost wanted to punch them sometimes. Starting a fight would be unwise, though; the French have always been great cooks, but terrible fighters.

HHHHHHHHHH

As prisoners of war, spending great lengths of time dwelling on thoughts of freedom, family, and home are generally not the best for anyone's state of mind. Colonel Hogan, however, did agree that a little Independence Day celebration could be a good thing for morale...if it didn't get out of hand.

You know, being a prisoner of war is a very dangerous branch of service, Hogan thought to himself, especially when you have an undercover espionage group you're working in. But, everyday life as a prisoner of war gets rather monotonous. Naturally this can lead to some... well, not so good ideas.

Sigh. I'll have to talk to Klink about getting Carter out of the cooler tommorow.

HHHHHHHHH

"What do we do with these?" said Newkirk to Kinchloe as he picked up a box from next to Barracks 2.

"Fireworks supplies? I don't think any of us ever want to see those again after last night! Hide it in the barracks, and by that, I mean hide it so even we can't find it!"

Kinch knew that Carter was just having a little innocent fun the night before, but only Carter would think firing fireworks in the middle if a prisoner of war camp was a good idea. Personally, the celebration of the Fourth was always a little bittersweet for Kinchloe. He understood the meaning behind it for most, but sometimes, it was a little hard to celebrate freedom in a country where many were still reluctant to give people of other skin colors besides their own the same freedom. Will people finally be treated equally in my lifetime, perhaps? My children's? Grandchildren's? Or will it take even longer?

"It's ready!" yelled LeBeau, interrupting Kinch's train of thought. LeBeau had finally agreed to cook "American" food for the Fourth...only to prove how inferior it was to his regular cooking skills, of course.

Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad Independence Day after all.

*Quotes from the Short Story Speedwriting Contest in bold.