A/N: Well, it's certainly been awhile since I posted anything on here. Sorry for my sudden disappearance, guys. I have been very depressed and unmotivated this summer to write or post completed stories I have banked in my Google docs. I'm back, though, feeling much better, and hopefully able to post a new chapter once a day. I start college again in two weeks, so we'll see how it goes. This story in particular was quite fun to write, particularly because I love writing Hogan centered stories. I love my Colonel Hogan. :) So, here it is! Hope you guys like it, and PLEASE leave reviews and feedback! I love them! Constructive criticism also encouraged. I love learning new things!

Chapter 1:

He stood there, looking menacingly at the pictures of Hitler and Gestapo men hanging in his office. His newfounded leader and fellow Nazis made him feel bold and invincible. He had all the power possible. Instead of people torturing him, now he had the pleasure of being the one causing the torture. The years of being the victim had finally ended, and he would now begin his life as the victor of battles.

He was no German, by immediate family anyways. Ancestor wise, he had a bit of German background in him. Part German, part Irish, part English, and a little bit of Italian mixed in there. However, he felt no more loyal to the Fuhrer than any other faithful companion he stood by. He was proud of his position and proud of what he would do to help Germany win the war.

He continued to stare out his office window, contemplating his future plans on defeating the enemy, when a sudden knock came to his door.

"Come in, " he said softly.

The door opened, and Major Wolfgang Hochstetter entered. He saluted his commander and received the same gesture in return.

Hochstetter made his way closer to his newest Gestapo member and gave a friendly smile.

"Colonel, how do you do this evening?" He asked.

"Tired, but alright. And yourself, Major?" The colonel replied.

"Tired, ja. I agree. It's been too busy here recently."

"I could not agree more with you, Major."

"You ready for tomorrow night, Herr Colonel?"

The man turned to Hochstetter with a sinister grin on his face. He had thick black hair and piercing brown eyes that bore into your soul. It was Colonel Robert E. Hogan!

Hogan chuckled menacingly.

"All in good time, Major. All in good time," he said, with an evil sparkle in his eyes.

"It's time, Hogan," Hochstetter said friendly.

"I suppose you're right, Major." He sighed.

"We will show the enemy that the Third Reich is the superior ones in this world! You and I, Colonel Hogan."

The colonel smiled again and lifted his hand.

"Heil Hitler!" He cried.

"Heil Hitler!" Hochstetter returned, and left his commanding officer to be with himself and his thoughts.

Once the short major was gone, Hogan walked back to his desk and sat down. He started going through papers, when he was disturbed by memories and thoughts running through his mind. How he got here. What had happened that night. What became of Newkirk, Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau? Klink? His once friends and Allies were now his sworn enemies. He hated his men, he loathed Klink instead of thinking of him as a cowardly German; he was blood thirsty. He wanted revenge. He would get justice for what he had endured thanks to the failure of his men trying to save him.

Hogan pushed his papers aside and kicked his legs up onto his desk. He put his hands on his middle and leaned back in his more than comfy leather chair starting to think to himself. He went back into his mind to how it all started. The once loyal, clever witted, compassionate American officer he once had been and the cunning, malicious, blood sucking Nazi he now was. He closed his eyes, let out a calm breath, and went back to the beginning. The mission that had ended his career as an Allied officer and began his one of being a Gestapo colonel.

(Stalag 13, Germany: July 21, 1943)

The men of Stalag 13 were all doing their usual summer routine. They were either playing sports, walking around, or socializing with their friends and other prisoners.

Inside barracks two, Sergeant Carter and Corporal Newkirk sat at the table playing a game of gin, Corporal LeBeau was cooking dinner, and Sergeant Kinchloe, Kinch better known as, and Hogan were down in the tunnels having a meeting regarding operation business.

Carter put down a card and turned to look up at his best friend across from him.

"Your turn, buddy," he said.

"I see that, Andrew," Newkirk said, thinking to himself. He had to admit to himself; Carter was doing fairly well in this round. He had to maintain his title as Gin Champ, however. He had now broke a record with how long it had remained with him. Four months now, and Newkirk had not lost a single game. His last record had been two months and twenty seven days. He intended to keep that record for as long as possible and made his next move with careful and tactical thinking.

LeBeau left the stove for a moment to wash the dishes in the sink. He was starting to dry a few of them, when he smelled the strong scent of smoke near by. He sniffed the air a few times and turned around. His eyes nearly fell out of his head seeing the site of his meal on fire and letting a faint stream of black smoke fill the air. The little Frenchman dropped the dish instantly, having it shatter on the floor.

"Fire! Fire!" He cried.

Newkirk and Carter snapped their heads toward their panicking friend and shot to their feet.

"Bloody hell, Louis! What did you do?!" Newkirk exclaimed.

"I don't know! It's never done that before!" LeBeau cried.

"Colonel! Colonel!" Carter shouted.

"Colonel! Colonel! Fire!" Newkirk screamed.

The American officer himself shot out from the tunnel within seconds, saw the scene, and instantly ran outside to grab a bucket of water. He came back shortly afterwards and threw it on top of the stove. The fire simmered and soon nothing but tiny wisps of smoke and black charred food remained.

Newkirk put a hand on his chest and sighed with relief.

"Thank goodness for you, Colonel. Why, the whole entire barracks could have burned down!" Carter remarked.

Once Hogan caught his breath and sat the bucket down on the floor, he walked towards LeBeau and put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"You alright, LeBeau?" He asked genuinely.

"Oui, Colonel. I don't understand. That's never happened before. I never burn food, never!"

"Accidents happen sometimes. It wasn't your fault."

The little Frenchman slowly approached the stove and picked up the pan. He lifted what was supposed to be dinner with a wooden spoon and looked at the black charred substance sadly.

"Well...there goes that meal," he said, glum.

"What were you making, buddy?" Carter asked.

"It smelled good there for a while." Newkirk commented.

LeBeau sighed heavily.

"It was supposed to be sole meunière."

"Blimey, Louis, what's that mean?" The Englishman responded, irritated.

"It's a traditional French meal! It's fish that's crispy, buttery, and flavorful." The little Frenchman replied, giving the same attitude back. He took his pan and tossed it into the sink holding his anger back.

"It's alright, LeBeau. You didn't mean to burn dinner." Hogan answered kindly. He wrapped an arm around his little friend and gave him a small smile. "You're still the best darn chef I've ever known."

At that point, Kinch appeared from the tunnels and closed the entrance.

"What's going on?" He asked, worried.

"Louis accidentally let dinner burn," Newkirk said softly. He felt bad for getting angry with LeBeau. He knew how hard the little Frenchman took things when his cooking failed in any sort of way.

"It's alright, Louis. We can still have something else for dinner," Carter said.

"I was planning this meal for months, though. Do you know how much strudel I bargained with Schultz to get that fish?!" LeBeau remarked.

"As long as you're making it, Louis, that's all that matters." Kinch answered, smiling.

The little Frenchman gave a faint smile.

"Merci, Kinch," he said softly.

Hogan smiled down at his little friend, then back to his second in command.

"Anything new from London, Kinch?" He asked.

"No, just what already came in," he said calmly.

The American officer let out a deep sigh.

"Well, I better start gathering my things then. What time am I leaving again?"

"LEAVING!" LeBeau, Carter, and Newkirk all exclaimed.

"What do you mean 'leaving'?!" LeBeau cried.

"They're getting rid of the Gov'nor, aren't they!" Newkirk hissed.

"Colonel, please don't go!" Carter begged.

Hogan could only laugh and put a hand on his middle to stop himself from bending over onto the ground. Once he collected himself, he shook his head smiling.

"I'm not going anywhere, Carter. London wants to meet with me tonight regarding top security information regarding the Gestapo. All I know so far is that they're planning on building a secret base here somewhere close to camp. They couldn't disclose any further information for safety reasons."

"Top security base, huh," Newkirk said, puzzled. "Wonder what for."

"Does sound a little odd." Carter added.

"What if it's a trap by the filthy bosche? What if they're just luring mon Colonel in just to catch him in the act?" LeBeau suspected.

"Those bleeding Krauts...I'll strangle one of 'em if I get a chance." The Englishman snarled.

"No, no, it's not a trap, LeBeau. Came from General Berkman himself. Kinch was there to witness it," Hogan said, clarifying.

"No trick, guys. It was General Berkman alright." Kinch added.

"You want someone to come along with yah, Sir? Can't quite shake this feeling that something bad's gonna happen tonight." Newkirk worried. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and seemed slightly uneasy.

Hogan smiled friendly.

"I'll be alright, Newkirk, but I appreciate the concern. I'll be back before Klink even sends Schultz in here for roll call." He answered sincerely.

"Now that yah mention it, I'm getting that feeling, too," Carter said meekly.

"Moi aussi," LeBeau said, crossing his arms.

"Guys, I'm gonna be alright. I've gone on these kinds of mission before, nothing bad ever happens." Hogan answered, trying to comfort his men. He secretly hid the fact that his men were feeling this way was starting to make him anxious. He was starting to feel like something would go wrong tonight.

"Maybe we're just a bit on the edge." Newkirk proposed.

"We have been a bit jumpy ever since that Gestapo scare we had last week." LeBeau replied.

The week before, Hochstetter had made a surprise visit to Stalag 13 and nearly caught Hogan and his men in the act of running their 'business'. Thankfully, the American colonel had been able to wiggle his men and himself out of it and avoided exposure. Hogan's men had been a bit apprehensive since then, and it would probably take another week for it to die off, too.

"Nothing's going to happen with me and the Gestapo. I promise. Hochstetter and his men are long gone now." Hogan reassured them.

"You sure, Colonel?" Carter asked, worried.

The colonel smiled friendly.

"Yes, Carter. I'm sure."

The young sergeant nodded.

"Well...as long as you say so, Sir."

Hogan nodded, then looked at his watch.

"Well, I should probably go get ready for my meeting tonight. LeBeau, can you just make me a peanut butter sandwich with a glass of milk?"

LeBeau frowned, remembering his failed dinner.

"Oui, Colonel," he said sadly.

"It's alright, LeBeau. It's not your fault, remember?"

The little Frenchman nodded softly.

"Still hurts, Colonel," he said quietly.

Hogan smiled, patted LeBeau's shoulder friendly, then walked off to his quarters to get ready for his meeting.

Once he was gone, LeBeau walked to the stove to start making another meal for dinner, and Newkirk, Carter, and Kinch sat down at the table in the main area.

"Kinch, you don't have that bad feeling were getting?" Carter asked, sitting down.

"No, I have it. I just didn't wanna bring it up in front of the Colonel. I'm sure it's nothing, guys. You heard him; he's never had an issue on one of these meetings before. Why would tonight be any different?" The staff sergeant replied.

"I don't like it, mate. This has 'warning' written all over it," Newkirk said, grabbing a cigarette out.

"Maybe we should lie and say General Berkman messaged back and called the meeting off." LeBeau suggested.

"You have any idea how mad the Colonel would be if he found out we lied about something as important as this meeting? That's crossing the 'getting kicked off the team' line." Kinch remarked.

"Kinch, he can't go tonight! Something's gonna happen, I know it. I know I'm slow at catching on at a lot of things, but I know my gut feeling, and it's usually not wrong," Carter said strongly.

"I agree with Andrew, mate. Tonight just doesn't feel right." Newkirk chimed in.

"Look, if it makes you guys feel better, I'll have it arranged with General Berkman that we're in communication with the Colonel the entire time he's traveling to and from London. They have radios installed in modern day airplanes now, he'll be able to keep in touch with us on where he is and how far away he is from the secret air base," Kinch said calmly. "But lying to him and saying the meeting's off is not going to fly well with him."

Carter, Newkirk, and LeBeau exchanged looks with one another and sighed.

"Alright, Kinch," Carter said softly.

"We can live with that." Newkirk commented.

"I'll get on the radio with the General." Kinch answered, and hurried down into the radio room.

Once he had disappeared from sight, Newkirk let out a heavy sigh and turned to his friends that remained.

"I don't know about you mates, but I for one have this awful feeling that tonight something terrible's gonna happen," he said, slightly anxious.

"I don't know what I find more frightening," LeBeau said, making another round of dinner. "The fact of something happening to mon Colonel, or the fact I have the exact same feeling."