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Currently Robert Hogan could think of several things that had been wrong with his week. Even just that day. Firstly, their contact, Zellandine (after the Grimms fairytale of Sleeping Beauty), had been much more interested in flirting with him than doing her job. Normally that wouldn't bother him at all, but she was incessant! Nothing but flirting, to the point where he'd threatened to kick her out.
Zellandine batted her eyes at him. "You're quite strong, Colonel. Handsome, too."
"Yeah," Newkirk said irately. "Cream of the crop 'e is."
She cackled as though Newkirk had said the most amusing thing she'd ever heard. "You're quite adorable yourself! But your Colonel is just so wonderful-"
"Could we please get back to bombing this bridge?" Robert asked, waving towards the bridge they stood in front of.
Zellandine sighed. "Well that's no fun."
"If you wanted fun you should've joined the circus! Help us, or get out, but stop trying to flirt with me while we're on a job!" Robert said. Great job, Robert. Give yourself a shining reputation, why don't you? he thought, scowling and grabbing some of the dynamite Carter had whipped up as LeBeau and Newkirk started talking to Zellandine again.
Of course, LeBeau and Newkirk had just added to his problems. They both thought Zellandine was a goddess among men and were vying for her attention just as she was vying for his. It was like Marya all over again, and God knew he didn't need another Marya.
Newkirk sped up to join Robert and Zellandine just as he'd finally gotten her back on track. "Okay, now we'll plant the charges here and here, then blow the bridge when the train hits the middle-way point," he explained, pointing and allowing Carter to drop one explosive while he dropped the other.
LeBeau frowned. "Is that all, mon colonel? Why did you bring us?"
"Because, LeBeau, somebody's got to stop the truck that's ahead of the train so they don't radio the conductor about strange people standing around the bridge. And we need somebody to tell us when to set the charges. Speaking of which, Newkirk, LeBeau, go stop the truck."
"But guv, we-"
"Peter. Go. And Carter, have you got your timer set?" Robert asked as Newkirk and LeBeau both grumbled and walked away. Carter nodded.
"Yessir. This is gonna be a great one, boy- I mean sir!"
Robert smiled at the sergeant. At least someone under his command tonight wasn't girl crazy. He noticed with a start that the train had already come around the bend. "Carter, start the timer," he said, but he already knew they wouldn't get more than half the train. "I'm going to go look for Newkirk and LeBeau."
He found them about ten feet away from where they should've been, arguing.
"She likes me better! Obviously she prefers French!" LeBeau said.
"Well, if she doesn't like short then you're out of luck!" Newkirk shot back.
Robert calmed his anger at the two men, walking over and putting a hand on each of their chests to push them away from each other. "Would you like to know something interesting?"
"What, guv?"
"That truck you were supposed to stop wasn't there! We were fed false information and because you weren't where you were supposed to be we not only didn't know that, but we also didn't know that our time table was incorrect! Thanks to you two we blew up half the train instead of all of it!"
"What do you mean, guv?"
"You two were two busy fighting over Zellandine to check the tracks like I told you to do before we left. Had you done that you would've seen the train and you could've told us. You at least might've been able to tell us that there wasn't a truck."
"Sorry, mon colonel, we did not know," LeBeau said.
"Right. You didn't know because you were too busy fighting over a girl. What's gotten into you two?"
LeBeau and Newkirk both looked down. "Sorry, guv. It's just, we don't have pretty girls around very often, and she actually seemed interested in us."
"She'd be interested in a tree if it stood still long enough. Now come on."
The third thing wrong with his week had happened after that. Carter had been disappointed by how little damage his explosives had done (a problem that was not, at all, his fault), and had holed himself up in his laboratory to try and make a better formula.
Robert was reading a report when his office began to shake. He jumped up just in time for his shelving unit to go flying into his desk. He ran outside to see the rest of his men in a similar condition.
LeBeau, who had been playing Solitaire, had fallen on the floor with cards strewn all over him. Newkirk's tea had been spilled all over his face and he was trying desperately to wipe it off without irritating his new burns.
"Where's Kinch?" Robert asked as he opened the phony bunk to let some smoke from the explosion air out.
"He was in the tunnels. Something about working on the radio."
Robert huffed, speeding down the ladder and running to Kinch's radio. Kinch and his radio seemed fine at first glance, but then Robert noticed that Kinch was soaked to the bone and shaking. "Kinch! What's wrong?"
"I was working on the radio and then Carter must've- and now the tunnel's sprung a leak," Kinch finished dryly.
Robert looked up to see a continual drip about two inches to the left of the radio set. "We're lucky it didn't get the radio," he said. "But unlucky that it got you. Come on, Kinch, we're getting you to Wilson."
"I'll go up on my own. Go find Carter," Kinch said, regaining strength as he walked.
Robert nodded, running to Carter's lab. Smoke billowed from under the door, and Robert opened the door slowly so he wouldn't give himself a steam burn.
When he finally saw Carter he had to quiet his urge to laugh. Carter's hair was sticking straight up in all directions, and when he saw Robert he simply said, "Sorry, Colonel. Did you know that stuff could explode?"
Carter's escapade in his lab had led to problem four: Kinch had a cold, meaning Robert was running the radio. Which also meant that problem five, Crittendon, was explicitly his fault. After all, he'd accidentally called and asked for code seven. He wanted code eight, but Kinch hadn't been well enough to tell him without coughing for ten minutes.
Robert realized his mistake as soon as Goldilocks said, 'Alright, but why I'll never know.' Somehow he didn't think he was getting contact with their newest Underground operative.
-------
Sure enough, Robert was right. Two days later he sent Carter and Newkirk out for their arrival and the two came back with Crittendon.
"God hates me this week, doesn't he?" Robert asked, staring up at the ceiling of his office where he'd tried to hole himself up for as long as possible.
"Hogan old boy? Listen, chap, we really must discuss the meeting with your contact!" Crittendon said through the door.
Robert was about to respond to Crittendon when a yell erupted from the barracks. He ran out to see Newkirk, staring at his letter like it might bite him.
The sixth problem was that Newkirk's little sister had accidentally outed herself as one of the Goldilocks, when had led to problem seven (Newkirk trying to yell at the Goldilocks for letting his twenty-one year old sister enlist.)
"She's a flippin' charmer, ain't she? Mavis goes to join the bloody army and I'm the last to know!"
"Peter, I don't think she wanted you to know-" Carter started, shutting up when he saw Newkirk's glare.
"Okay, Newkirk-"
"That's it! I'm callin' those bastards and telling them they can't let a kid enlist!"
Kinch put a hand on Newkirk's shoulder. "Peter, when was the last time you," he paused to cough, "talked to your sister? In person, I mean."
"1940, I think," Newkirk said thoughtfully.
"And how old was she?"
"Seventeen! Bloody seventeen!"
"Newkirk, it's 1944. She's twenty-one. If she lived in America she could be voting and going out for drinks to celebrate," Robert said. "Now come on, let's figure out this situation with our contact!"
"Small problem, Colonel. We can't go out through the tunnel," Carter said, pointing to the window.
Problem eight was a bit stranger. Klink had begun sleepwalking, and it had taken them almost two days to figure out that it was a ploy of Klink's to try and get information out of them about none other than the next time LeBeau would be available to cook for him. That had driven Robert halfway to insanity (especially with Crittendon still around).
"You're kidding. This whole thing was a ploy? Colonel Klink, the men were worried sick about you!"
Klink gave Robert a strange look. "Hogan, I don't believe you."
"No, really Colonel! The men think of you as a father figure, they were concerned for your health! Please, don't pretend to sleepwalk again. You may give them heart attacks."
"One condition, Hogan."
"Oh, anything Colonel."
"LeBeau cooks for my next dinner party."
"Are you crazy, Colonel? LeBeau would've done that for you anyway!"
Problem nine was the worst of all: one of their contacts had been a Kraut who'd almost gotten them captured. And, after that while everyone was still on the emotional high of almost dying someone had insulted LeBeau's cooking (It was Newkirk. When it came to insulting LeBeau's cooking it was almost always Newkirk).
Chaffinch grinned at Robert. "Well, Colonel, I suppose you weren't expecting this?"
"Not in the slightest," Robert said, irritation leaking into his voice. "Why?"
"Simple. I am a loyal German, fighting for my country. You are an American, fighting against the glorious Third Reich," she said with a faint air of superiority.
Robert raised a brow. "You're a spy for the same country that says you should care for Kinder, Küche, Kirche alone?"
Chaffinch scoffed. "That is only for the women who dote on their husbands. I dote on no one."
Newkirk, to Robert's left, looked dismayed. Hopefully by this point he had figured out Chaffinch wouldn't be another one of his girlfriends.
At that moment Carter stood up a few feet behind Chaffinch, a brick in his hand. He'd been hiding since she arrived, planting bombs, and now it seemed that was paying off. Robert nodded ever so slightly and Carter ran forward, hitting the agent on the head.
There was a sound behind them like a car coming up a driveway. "Okay, I'd say we should probably leave now or never," Robert said, grabbing Newkirk by the jacket and hauling him away from Chaffinch.
"But guv-"
"Peter, you've already romanced one Kraut. Let's not make it two, eh?"
-------
They were all sitting in the barracks about half an hour later with LeBeau cooking their supper. "Hey, LeBeau, what're you making?" Carter asked.
LeBeau grinned. "I am making soupe de lapin."
Carter looked confused, so Newkirk said, "Rabbit stew, mate."
The sergeant nodded. LeBeau turned to Newkirk. "Pierre, come taste this," he intoned, ushering the British Corporal off his bed and to the stove.
He gave Newkirk a wooden spoon with some of the stew in it and Newkirk glanced at it. He looked as though he was considering just how much he wanted to eat it when he finally took a bite. He swallowed and then gagged. "Lord, Louis, what did you put in there? Poison?"
LeBeau scowled. "If I wanted poison I would've used you! Non, I simply put the basics!"
Problem ten was LeBeau yelling, Parle-moi en français ou pas du tout, Insultez ma nourriture et vous ne la mangerez pas!, and J'espère que tu as une horrible tasse de thé every time someone tried to talk to him.
Kinch walked up to LeBeau. "Hey, Louis-"
" Parle-moi en français ou pas du tout."
-------
As LeBeau placed stew in each of their bowls he directly went over Newkirk's. When Carter gave him a strange glance LeBeau said, "Insultez ma nourriture et vous ne la mangerez pas!"
"Good!" Newkirk said, standing up. "I'll insult it more often then!"
-------
"Pass the water, Louis?" Newkirk said, and LeBeau glared.
"J'espère que tu as une horrible tasse de thé," LeBeau said, and Newkirk looked scandalized.
Overall, Robert Hogan was having a strange and overall very wrong week. And he wouldn't trade it for the world.