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As Kinch clambered out of the tunnel that morning, he had to admit, he wasn’t too surprised to see Newkirk staring disinterestedly at his breakfast omelet that LeBeau had carefully prepared for him. LeBeau was trying to coax Newkirk into eating it, but, sensing a losing battle, the Frenchman sighed and turned his attention to Kinch.
“I don’t suppose you are hungry, either?” he asked.
It was obvious why Newkirk couldn’t eat—why LeBeau expected Kinch to feel the same way. They had, after all, gone out to meet Hercules last night—and the man had died in their arms en route to the camp.
“Not terribly,” Kinch admitted. “I’ll split that omelet with Newkirk.”
“You can ‘ave the whole ruddy thing,” Newkirk insisted.
“…Just half will do.”
LeBeau obligingly cut the omelet and transferred a half to a second plate, which he presented to Kinch.
“Merci,” Kinch sighed, and LeBeau nodded in acknowledgement.
The omelet was delicious, as just about everything else that LeBeau came up with, and Kinch found himself wishing he had an appetite so as to appreciate it all the more.
Newkirk, however, had still left his untouched, prompting LeBeau to give Kinch a look that clearly read, I have done all I can—perhaps you can convince him?
Kinch gave a nod in response and surveyed the Englishman.
“Newkirk, you really should eat something,” he advised.
Newkirk took a long look at his omelet half before replying.
“I can’t stop thinking about it, Mate,” he sighed, changing the subject completely. “I’ve gone over it three dozen times in me mind.”
“…I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there’s little else I’ve been able to think about, too,” Kinch assured him.
“Then maybe you can answer this,” Newkirk continued, as LeBeau glanced sympathetically from one to the other. “Is there one bloody thing we could’ve done differently that could’ve saved the man’s life? If we’d been faster or just signaled the plane sooner, maybe…”
“Peter,” Kinch said, addressing him by his given name now. “We did everything by the book—everyone did everything by the book. They followed the flight path and timed everything down to the second, and we signaled them the moment we were supposed to. There wasn’t a single thing that we did last night that was any different from all the other times we’ve had to signal one of our planes.”
“You really think so?” Newkirk asked.
“Yeah—because I can’t accept anything else,” Kinch admitted.
“You are right, Kinch—you both did as you were supposed to. Le Colonel says that it was only a matter of time until something like this happened,” LeBeau added, quietly. “The fact that every other time went so smoothly is nothing short of a miracle.”
“…I’m grateful to both of you, but I still don’t feel satisfied,” Newkirk said.
“I don’t think we ever will,” Kinch pointed out. “This is war, Peter; the only satisfying thing will be when it’s over, and the information that Hercules gave us can bring that end soon, if this briefcase switch works.” He shook his head. “I’m not hungry, either, but we’re going to need to keep our strength up for what’s coming today. We need you at the top of your game, too.”
Newkirk gave a nod of resignation and finally began to eat his half of the omelet.
“Thanks, Mate,” he managed to say.
“Thank you, too,” Kinch added.
LeBeau placed a hand on each of their shoulders, and they remained like this for a while, until Carter stuck his head out of Hogan’s quarters.
“Hey, Fellas?” he called, noticeably subdued—even their eternal optimist had suffered a blow to his morale on account of Hercules’s death. “I heard Klink and Colonel Hogan over the coffeepot; sounds like the ‘inspection party’ isn’t too far from here. Whatever’s happening, it’s gonna happen soon.”
“We’ll probably be falling out for roll call when they arrive,” Kinch realized. He looked to the others. “Let’s get ready.”
They nodded, steeling themselves for what lay ahead.