Not Fun Anymore: Introduction
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Hogan's Heroes or make any profit off of writing this story.
British Sargeant Malcom Flood reminisced to himself as he skirted past the fields outside of Hammelburg. Keeping cover by running through the edge of the forest, the cool night air was rushing ey his face as he ran almost at full speed. He had no need to be running, no one was chasing him. No, this is what he thrived off of. The thrill of a chase, eluding those who wanted so desperately to catch him was an ecstacy to him. He couldn't stand not being in some sort of game against someone. He loved outsmarting and out maneuvouring his opponents. In Nazi Germany he had found what he had always dreamed of, a real playground, a gameboard where the stakes were the highest.
His bomber had been shot down early in the war. He had been seperated from the rest of his crew after bailing out. Once captured he realized that sitting out the war did not appeal to him at all. Not that he wanted to get back and fight either. He had never been a violent person, or an overly patriotic one either. The thought of escaping, however, was irresistable. Once put in his first P.O.W camp, he immediately began to devise his escape.
Flood had been a down and almost out escape artist before the war. To solve his money woes he joined the R.A.F. His military career was nothing to envy, often sneaking off base when his unit had been confined to it, and being no stranger to the stockade. Malcom Flood really wasn't meant to be a soldier. But when he was shot down he found that he could have great personal gain from being involved in this war far beyond the meager pay of an R.A.F. sergeant. He could have fame. He would be the most famous escape artist to ever live, even surpass the fame of Houdini and he would do it there, in Nazi Germany, the land of the most evil regime to walk the earth. It was the perfect backdrop to procure his new found fame.
When he surveyed his new prison he laughed inwardly. The lousy design and sloppy security made it a prime place to begin his P.O.W. escape career. It wasn't one of the main camps but rather a transit camp, a holding place, for newly captured prisoners to be kept until they are assigned to one of the main stalags. He would be out in a jiffy he thought, barely noticing the dejected pilots around him. Most of them were young, scared and surrounded by the enemy. Escape was low on their current priority lists. Flood's was a diffferent story, however.
As he ran through the early hours of the morning, the full moon high in the sky, he remembered back to his first escape. Running through the forest as he was now, the dogs barking, the guards yelling, all the danger around him but it did not frighten him, it drove him onwards. Adrenealine pumping through him he eventually lost sight and sound of his pursuers. It was days later when they finally caught up to him. It was really hard to escape Germany in a British airforce uniform he found out as a hawk eyed farmer spotted him and alerted the town police. But total escape wasn't what he was after anyways. Being recaptured only allowed him to pull off another daring escape from the evil Nazis which would make another fame spreading newspaper story in England.
After escaping his 9th camp since capture the German authorities began to realize treating Flood as a normal P.O.W. was not going to work. Their solution was to put an S.S. officer in charge of him, while still in Luftwaffe custody, of course. The man they put to the task was a young Colonel named Stieffer. Stieffer was all you would expect from an S.S. officer: frank, to the point, cold and heartless. He took this task seriously and made it his personal goal to never let Flood escape German hands again. His first task was to find a formidible prison to hold him in and after sifting through records landed on Stalag 13, the one P.O.W. camp left to allow no escapes.
Upon arrival at Stalag 13 his foe had nearly beaten him before their game had started by freeing himself from his bonds and almost escaping in a staff car. Stieffer was furious at this near disaster and subsequently had his prisoner thrown into the strictest security conditions available at the camp. Not that that held him long. Later that day he was no where to be seen. When he was all too easily recaptured Stieffer was so angry at his failure that he decided his nemesis would pay the ultimate price for his insubordination. But before this could be carried out Flood was gone again, uknowingly incurring the wrath of a rival now determined beyond anything to have his blood on his hands.
Colonel Hogan, the senior P.O.W. officer at Stalag 13 and also leader of the most successful sabotage and espionage unit in Germany, helped him prepare for the last escape from a prison camp and journey to England he was on now. Hogan had given him strict orders to stick to his route, only thinking of the safety of Flood, as he knew the S.S. Colonel would not give up on finding and taking revenge on his adversary who had twice now embarrassed him infront of his superiors. Hogan knew the kind of men the S.S. were and knew Malcom was in great danger.
Colonel Hogan.
Malcom thought about the man he had just recently met and how obvious it was that he cared about others even more so than himself.
" Stick to this route and you'll be in England in no time. Don't do any sight seeing on your way, for some reason Germans have a wierd thing about foreign tourists right now."
As he ran he thought about how he had almost ruined Colonel Hogan's plans before and made a promise to himself that he wouldn't do anything stupid that would make Hogan have to worry about him again.
Not an hour ago Flood had reached his second checkpoint. A farmhouse in Hammelburg, owned by a single man. Everything had gone without a hitch. All the right regonition codes were used and after a short stay where the farmer helped him to get his bearings and offered him some food, he was on his way. He was directed to the next town over where he is to report to a restaurant to get his next instructions.
It was starting to get lighter out now and Malcom stopped his run and crouched in the bushes to survey his surroundings. He had come to a dirt road with a sign saying the town was only a mile away. He figued he could follow the road into town now but would walk it as it might look odd to see a man running in civilian clothes. He carefully checked the road in both directions and seeing that all was clear he walked out onto the road. The walk into town was a peaceful one, with few vehicles passing him he took the time to notice the beautiful landscape surrounding the town. It was located on what appeared to be a large patch of rolling hills surrounded by thick evergreen forest.
When he finally strolled into town it was light out and shopkeepers were preparing their shops to be opened for the day. Not many people were out and about as it was still early in the morning. This didn't bother him in the slightest."Less people to be suspicious of me", he thought. It didn't take him long to find the restaurant he was directed to. It must have been the only one in the small town. As he glanced right and left he straightened the overcoat which hid the R.A.F uniform worn within, making sure it could not be seen. Feeling confident no one was on to him he crossed the cobblestone road to the entrance of the restaurant.
When he entered a bell on the door alerted a maid of his arrival. It was a quiet little restaurant with a warm feel. The chairs and tables had not yet been set up for the day's guests. As he took in the room he zeroed in on the young maid approaching him.
"I'm sorry sir but we are not open for another half an hour", she informed him.
" I apologize", he answered." May I sit down and wait please? I promise I won't be any distraction at all."
Mommentarily eyeing him she answered smiling," Alright, you may stay but I don't normally allow this you know."
" Thankyou, that is very kind of you", Flood responded while taking a chair off a table and placing it for himself to sit in.
As he watched the young maid start setting up the tables and chairs he jumped up and began to help.
" Oh you don't have to help sir", she said.
" Please allow me to. It's the least I can do." he answered as he helped her finish the table she was working on and she nodded her thanks.
" Nice weather we've been having lately. Good weather for hiking." Malcom stated trying to make small talk.
" I suppose." she answered more focussed on setting up the table they'd moved on to.
" Yes, I've been hiking recently." he stated as he looked up at her," I even saw a Papa Bear."
Immediately recognition flashed across her face. " You are from Papa Bear?" she asked nervously looking around.
"Yes, can you help me?"
"Of course follow me", she answered as she guided him into the back of the restaurant glancing behind her at the door.
She led him to a store room where all the food and wine was kept. She opened a crate near the back of a whole pile of them and began searching through she came over to him and placed a map on a nearby table.
" Right now you are here", she explained as she pointed to the map, " Your last checkpoint is here, marked S7 on your map. The meeting place is a hardware store called Rolf's. There you will be escorted to a British sub on the coast."
"Thanks," he said while varifying on his own map. " What's the route like?"
" It's easy to get lost in that region. Lots of winding roads you know. If you are confident enough I would try and find some transportation if I were you, to cut down on wrong turns.' She answered adding, " Be careful, the S.S. presence has been extra high in this area lately, you don't want to be picked up by them."
He knew the last stretch of his escape was sounding like a great challenge but vowed not to take any unnecessarry risks. After his last encounter with the S.S. he calculated that another one would be hazardous to his health and should be avoided at all costs.
" Thanks...I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."
" Its Birgit", she answered smiling.
" Thanks Birgit" he said smiling back at her.
She led him back out into the empty restaurant where he looked out a window seeing if the coast was clear.
" Good luck!" she exclaimed as he went for the door.
"Thanks for your help!" he answered as he disappeared out of the restaurant.
Just as he closed the door behind him it began to rain.
"Great", he murmered under his breath as he turned up his collar and walked down the street.
It was beginning to get busier now. More people were out and he concluded that he should leave town right away, just to be safe. He needed to decide if finding transportation was worth the risk, after all his German was not very good. He wanted to take a better look at his map, but concluded it would look odd to see someone staring at a map in the middle of the street especially in a town with all of two streets in it. As he walked, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, he noticed a discarded newpaper on the ground. He picked it up and headed towards the street corner where he took one last look around before opening up the newspaper with the map inside. Leaning against the building trying to look casual he studied the map trying to find the most direct route to his checkpoint.
" Guten Tag Herr Flood", a german voice called.
Flood's heart plummeted. As he lowered the paper two men in S.S. black were revealed. He couldn't hold back the look of fear spread across his face.
" Colonel Stieffer sends his regards," the german added while reaching at his pistol holster.
Thinking quickly Flood threw the newspaper into the face of the other S.S. man while punching the speaker infront of him as hard as he could in the chin. On the recoil from the first punch he elbowed the other in the nose while his comrade fell to the ground. " Arrgh!" they cried from the attack.
With both his enemies down he ran in the opposite direction drawing stares from the people around him.
" Halt!", he heard from behind him. As he looked back he saw his pursuers pushing their way towards him guns drawn. This time there was no thrill to the chase, he was running for his life. He kept running as fast as he could. He was losing them. Flood took one last look behind him as he ran around the corner and, CRACK... the lights went out.
The S.S. Captain threw the rifle he had just used to knock out Flood back to the guard standing behind him. " Put him in the car." he ordered and the S.S. guards with him complied, shoving the lifeless body of Malcom Flood into the back of the car.
" You almost lost him", he said blandly to the pursuing S.S. officers who had just caught up.
" Sorry Herr Captain" one said while nursing his bleeding nose," we weren't expecting a fight out of him."
" Try not to underestimate your enemy anymore, so I don't have to finish your job for you." the S.S. captain advised.
" Jawhol Herr Captain!" they answered in unison.
" Now lets get this scum back to headquarters, Colonel Stieffer will want to reaquaint himself with his prize prisoner as soon as possible!" the Captain said with a chuckle as they got in the car and drove off.