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Hogan knew from experience that if the conversation in the tunnels was that loud upon opening the trapdoor, there was a very good chance that he did not want to know what had just come in from London.
Newkirk cursing like a sailor was nothing new, of course; LeBeau was probably doing the same in French, based on his tone of voice and Kinch’s attempts at trying to calm both corporals down. Ah, but Carter was among the loudest of the voices? Yup, it was definitely a doozy, then…
Hogan let out a quiet sigh.
It wasn’t an easy task, being in charge of this outfit. Oh, it wasn’t because of his men—he had hand-picked them for very specific reasons, and all of them exceeded his expectations every time. Though they had their moments of weaknesses—they were only human, after all—when push came to shove, they were always dependable, even to do things they would normally be dead-set against doing.
But London certainly took them for granted—there was no denying that. They got shown some appreciation here and there, and London was—usually—able to warn them in advance of maneuvers and would advise them to hunker down and stay put.
But London asked for a lot. At first, when they had just been focused on being a “Traveler’s Aide Society,” things had been pretty even-paced. But once Carter had joined the team and they began to also add sabotage to their activities, London had been rather too eager to start giving them a lot more on their plates.
Undoubtedly, that was what had happened now.
Hogan would never admit that out loud, however, even if he believed it. It was his job as the leader of the Unsung Heroes to instill confidence in his men. If they ever believed that he himself had doubts, their well-crafted synergy might very well fall apart.
Hogan clambered down the ladder into the radio room; the loud conversation quickly fell to a hush as he arrived and glanced at them.
“What is it this time?”
“Bloody impossible,” Newkirk replied.
“…I think I might be inclined to agree,” Kinch sighed.
“You bet I’m agreeing!” Carter exclaimed, wide-eyed.
“Moi aussi!” LeBeau added. “They want us to investigate a repurposed castle miles away from Hammelburg and see what the brass has been storing in there!”
“They want to know if it’s weapons or stolen art treasures… or anything else that they might be hiding in there,” Kinch finished. “There’s no way we can get out there without being missed for several roll calls. And that’s only the first of many challenges—getting inside is the next one.”
“Too right, Mate,” Newkirk agreed. “I’ve broken into a fair number of places in me time, but a bloody castle!?”
Hogan let them all vent; once again, he privately agreed—London was asking for a lot from a bunch of prisoners of war. …But, again, he couldn’t say so out loud.
“Is that all?” he said, pretending to scoff. “Easy.”
The four NCOs stared at Hogan; LeBeau, Newkirk and Carter were all wide-eyed in disbelief, while only one solitary raised eyebrow betrayed Kinch’s bemusement.
“Come on, Fellas—we do the impossible on a regular basis. Why should this be any different?” Hogan continued.
The four mumbled and grumbled, but ultimately conceded.
And Hogan sighed internally in relief.
It was business as usual.