I do not own the characters from the series Hogan's Heroes.

This story takes place the day before the first chapter of "Out of Sight".

"I'm getting bored with blowing up bridges," said LeBeau.

Carter, sitting opposite him in the back of the lorry, stared at him in astonishment. "How can anyone get bored with blowing up bridges? I mean, it's not like they're all the same. It's a whole new experience every time."

"No, I'm with LeBeau," said Newkirk. "I don't mind the odd one, now and then, but just lately it seems like they need one doing every week. Blow up the Adolf Hitler Bridge - blow up the Düsseldorf Bridge - blow up the Hammelburg Bridge - Adolf Hitler Bridge again - "

"That was a nice one," murmured Carter wistfully. "I wouldn't mind another go at that one."

Newkirk was not to be distracted. "Carter, don't you ever wonder if there's more to life?"

"I guess not," replied Carter, after a moment of thought. "After all, everyone needs a hobby."

The lorry came to a halt by the side of the road. Schultz, who was in charge of the work detail, came around to the back of the truck. "Everybody out," he rumbled, and began to count heads as the prisoners descended. That was just too tempting, and a few of them began sneaking back on board for a second or third turn. Schultz finally caught on, but not until LeBeau reached him for the fourth time.

"Stop it, all of you. Line up along the road," he ordered. Then he went along the row of men and completed the count there.

"All present and accounted for, Schultz," said Colonel Hogan, as Schultz reached the end of the line.

"I don't need you to tell me that, Colonel Hogan." Schultz was getting flustered, which was the way Hogan liked him best. He drew himself up, reasserted his authority and announced, "All present and accounted for. Pick up your tools and get to work."

Hogan nodded to Carter, and glanced at the bridge by which the road crossed the river before making a turn to the right to follow the curve of the hill on the other side. Carter headed towards the bridge, picking up a mattock as he went past the lorry. Newkirk and LeBeau followed; the other men spread out along the road behind the truck, and began work on the verge.

While LeBeau pottered around the front end of the truck, looking busy, Carter and Newkirk got closer to the bridge, giving it a surreptitious once over. "Doesn't look too challenging, does it?" murmured Newkirk.

"No, but it's got potential," replied Carter, regarding the target with the eye of an enthusiastic expert. "See, all that stonework is just decoration, the main structure is all timber. So one good charge in the right place, and the whole thing will just go kablooey. There'll be pieces of bridge flying in all directions."

"Remind me to bring an umbrella," said Newkirk. "You'd better get some pictures, while the guards aren't looking."

Carter felt in his pockets. "I think I left the camera in the truck."

Newkirk cast up his eyes. "Why is it you never forget the dynamite, but everything else...Go and get it, then." He turned Carter around by the shoulders, and gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the lorry.

As Carter ambled off, Newkirk turned back for another look at the bridge. It was quite a pretty little structure; almost a shame to have to wreck it. His eyes drifted on towards a car that was approaching along the curve of the road on the opposite side of the river. Nice, he thought. Wouldn't mind one of those. Lucky sod...

He took the opportunity to light a cigarette, turning away from the bridge to shelter from the breeze. LeBeau, who was still working close to the front of the lorry, shook his head.

"Those things will kill you one day, Newkirk," he called out.

Newkirk laughed. "With what we get up to? I'll be lucky to live that long."

And it was just at that moment that the bridge exploded.

The initial concussion threw Newkirk to the ground. He instinctively tried to break his fall with his hand, but landed awkwardly, and felt a sharp pain shoot from his wrist up towards his elbow. For a second he was too shocked to grasp what had happened; then he noticed that he was in the middle of a barrage of flying masonry and car parts. He had just enough time to realise that one of these pieces of debris might well do him some serious damage, when one of them did, and everything stopped.

* * *

LeBeau was flung hard against the hood of the lorry, taking the impact on his left side. The force of the blast stunned him for a few moments. As that receded, he became aware that something was very badly wrong with his shoulder, or his collarbone; he couldn't be sure, the pain didn't seem to be in a very specific place. He tried to push himself upright, and almost collapsed.

Someone caught him in a firm, supporting grip. Vaguely, he realised that it was Kinch, and that Kinch was speaking to him, but he couldn't make out a word of it. His ears were ringing, and he dropped his head against Kinch's arm, still too dazed to understand what was going on.

* * *

As Carter had climbed into the back of the lorry, Kinch had moved behind it to shield him, in case one of the guards was looking. The lorry was therefore between him and the explosion, sheltering him from both the blast and the hail of stone and timber fragments. By the time he realised what had happened, some inner instinct had already propelled him around to the front of the truck. He was just in time to prevent LeBeau from falling, and he lowered himself to the ground, supporting his friend in his arms.

"Louis! Louis, can you hear me?" he demanded. He could hardly hear his own voice. LeBeau fell against him, barely conscious. Kinch looked around desperately. Through the haze of dust, he could see a figure in blue, lying in the road, and his heart almost stood still.

* * *

The blast lifted the front wheels of the lorry from the ground, and the shockwave shattered the windscreen, showering Carter with glass fragments. He flung up one arm to protect his face, but dropped it again almost immediately. He could see Newkirk, who had fallen to the ground, trying to get up. And he saw the piece of flying metal that struck Newkirk down again.

Carter never knew how he got so quickly from where he was to Newkirk's side.

It was bad, he could see that at once. Frantically, he tried to find a pulse; for a moment he couldn't, and he went cold inside with dread, until he detected a weak, almost imperceptible beat. The missile, apparently part of a fender torn from the car that had been crossing the bridge, had hit Newkirk on the side of the head, just above the ear; only a glancing blow, otherwise he would have been dead already.

As Colonel Hogan came at a run, Carter looked up, struggling to stay calm. "He's alive, Colonel," he gasped. "But he's really bad."

* * *

Hogan, at the far end of the work area, was well into his standard procedure for distracting Schultz when it happened.

A few seconds, almost an eternity, elapsed before he was able to react.

"Donnerwetter!" muttered Schultz slowly, staring at the expanding cloud of smoke and dust.

Hogan set off towards the centre of the blast, unable to believe his senses. As the haze began to disperse, he could make out Kinch, kneeling by the lorry with LeBeau in his arms.

"Kinch, are you hurt? LeBeau?" Hogan asked sharply. Kinch looked up at him blankly.

"Can't hear you, Colonel." He broke off, and looked down at LeBeau. "He's hurt. I don't know how bad."

Further along the road, Carter was crouched over Newkirk. Hogan felt sick. He gripped Kinch's shoulder for a second, then set off at a run.

Carter, almost beside himself, looked up as he approached. "He's alive, Colonel. But he's really bad."

Hogan dropped on his knees, and tried to see what the damage was. There was blood, quite a lot of blood, coming from a wound on the side of Newkirk's head.

Schultz came bustling forward, and stopped, shocked. Then he murmured, "I will call for help," and hurried away again. Hogan scarcely noticed.

All he could think was, Who was it? Who could have done this?