Easier Masqueraded than Done

Chapter 1

Another gust of wind slammed against the barracks door, sweeping underneath and blowing the dust along the floor in eerie patterns.

Carter was sitting right up against the furnace, not minding that the back of his neck was a little hot, watching the dirt blow over his sock feet. It was nearly one in the morning, and he couldn't sleep, because Hogan, Newkirk, and LeBeau were on a mission – they'd gone to Gestapo headquarters to get a captured underground agent. Carter had used to think he would rather stay at camp and wait in safety, but he kind of got now why Kinch didn't mind as much as the rest when he had to come out to blow a bridge or something. He could watch everyone else then, make sure they weren't hurt. It didn't really matter because if something went wrong, they'd all be dead anyways.

Kinch, sitting at the table, shuffled the deck of cards again, running his fingers over the soft edges. There were little notches in the sides that he hadn't noticed before. That was more than likely how Newkirk cheated.

"It's snowing," He heard Carter murmur, and he looked down to see a fine white powder blow under the door into the barracks, only to disappear as it got too close to the fire.

"Mmmhmm," He said, glancing at the tunnel entrance in the bunk. The guys weren't due back for half an hour, but a lot could happen in half an hour. Especially in Germany – anything from getting caught to it snowing two feet, or both, and none of it was very good.

"I remember when it snowed back in Bullfrog," Carter said. "It would be really cold, and then all of a sudden you'd wake up and there'd be three, four feet of snow on the ground. I never really got why Mom and Dad hated it so much until I turned ten and had to help with chores." He sighed, staring between the table legs at the bunk. "Now I hate it even more. When I get back home I'm moving to Miami."
Kinch grinned. He enjoyed having someone to wait up with him, and Carter was pretty good at easing the tension in the room. "What're you gonna do there?"

"I'll get married, for one thing," Carter said, frowning at the gold band on his finger. It was his dad's, old and nicked up, but it fit nice and it felt right. "I kinda like Madie." He remembered the blonde girl who worked at the Hofbrau. She didn't like Nazi Germany either, but Carter didn't want her involved in the underground. "And I'm gonna take my test and open a drugstore."

"Sounds good," Kinch said, smiling at his certainty. Well, he suspected he was right about Madie.

Carter looked up at his friend. "What're you gonna do?"

"Oh." Kinch frowned. "I guess I'll meet Yowanda in Toledo, like I promised. Maybe I'll be a mechanic or something."

"That's a good idea," Carter conceded. "You can live next door to me, in Miami, if you like."

"Thanks."

"You know, we should all live next to each other," Carter said thoughtfully. "WE could have our very own cul-de-sac. All of us and even Olsen and Wilson and Thomas and the others."

"It's pretty hard to fit 250 men and their families into one cul-de-sac, Andrew." Kinch shook his head.

"A whole neighborhood? No, wait! We make our own town, out in the countryside. We could call it - what do we call it?" Carter frowned.

Going along with the idea, Kinch suggested, "Well, let's not call it Stalag 13. I guess since we're under the command of Colonel Hogan, we could call it..." He trailed off. "Papa Bear's Den?"

"Kinch!" Carter gasped. "That's a terrible name!"

"So is the idea!" Kinch countered. "We've all been crammed within two feet of each other for the past - it's been almost a year now!"

"I've only been here six months," Carter said pointedly.

"Right, and LeBeau and Newkirk have been here since 1939," Kinch said. "As soon as we reach the States, everyone's going to scatter. We'll be lucky to get Christmas cards from some of these guys."

"You'll get a Christmas card from me," Carter vowed. "Always,"

Kinch sighed and shook his head. "Thanks." He looked at his watch and frowned. "The boys are due back now. I'm going to head below."

"I'll come with," Carter said.

Kinch opened the tunnel as quietly as he could, received a mumbled protest from somebody in the room, and as they went below he sighed, "I have an odd feeling about tonight, Carter."

Carter nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Me too. Like that feeling you get when you're in seventh grade and you have to go out and recite 'Let America Be America Again' to everyone in the audience, which consists of the entire school and their parents and grandparents and the teachers, and you really don't want to because you just know you're going to throw up all over the stage?"

Kinch raised an eyebrow at him. "That's a very specific scenario. But yes. Only it's the feeling when your fiancee is about to introduce you to her family for the first time, and you know they're going to hate you because you're black and they're rich white people and heaven forbid -" He threw up his hands.

Carter stared. "Aww, Kinch."

He shook his head and frowned. "I'm over it. She's happy now. Look, if they're not back in a half hour - or whenever we're tired of sitting on our hands - we're sneaking to Gestapo headquarters to be sure they haven't been hauled there."

"Okay."

Twenty minutes later, Kinch gave up on Solitaire and swept his cards into a pile. "Let's go. Let's stay in uniform, in case we get caught. Grab the guns." He shoved the cards back into the deck and left them on the table. "Let me write a note in case we're not back." He grabbed a pad of paper. "Should we say if we're not back by one the guys should report us missing?"

Carter nodded. "Sounds good."

Kinch quickly scrawled the notice on the paper, left it in plain sight on the radio table, and followed Carter out of the tunnel.