Disclaimer: I don't own Hogan's Heroes. This story is for entertainment purposes only. (Basically, I'm not getting paid for any of my stories.) The characters in this story are fictional, any resemblance to anyone living or dead is coincidental.

Author's Note: Hey, everyone. Just a quick note and then you can read my latest creation, this story is not connected to my first two stories. I am working on a last story for that arc, but this plot got into my head and it won't leave me be until I write it down.
This is going to be a very serious story(mostly because I am incapable of writing any kind of comedy). Anyhow, to end my rambling, I hope you really like this new story and thank you for your support. Much love!

…Monday, December 6th, 1943—06:00… Hammelburg, Germany…

"REPORT!"

The American colonel, Robert Hogan, winced as the Kommandant's daily cry increased the pounding in his head. It all started when one of the Stalag's guards returned from his furlough complaining of chills, headache, and a nasty sore throat. Before the week came to an end, it had spread through the ranks of the guards and then into the prisoner's barracks. The entire population of Stalag Thirteen had, at one point or another, been sick with the flu throughout the past two weeks. Hogan and his men of Barracks Two were the last hold outs, seeming to defy the flu; however, in the end, the nasty little bug caught up with them.

Colonel Wilhelm Klink marched down the steps of his kommandantur and over to the barracks guard, Sergeant Hans Schultz, who declared all the prisoners present. Klink looked down the line of men, taking in their shivering forms and red noses. "I have good news for all you prisoners," he smiled, slyly.

Hogan sighed. He knew the look on his counterpart's face all too well. That look meant that Klink thought he was being clever, which usually meant that whatever he had planned would be an inconvenience to the prisoners. "Kommandant, I love nothing more than our chats, but it's freezing and everyone is sick," he forced a smile on his face, adding, "Perhaps we could talk in your office?"

"I might have a solution to that." Klink said, ignoring the suggestion and Hogan's annoyance, "I have managed to procure the supplies to fix hearty, healing soups for the entire camp… guaranteed to have you all back on your feet in no time."

"We're already on our feet," Corporal Peter Newkirk muttered, before coughing into his hands. Newkirk had been the first of their barracks to get sick and the bug seemed to have a deeper hold on him.

Klink ignored the derisive remark, directing his conversation to Hogan, "It can be all yours in exchange for one minor favor."

"Here it comes," Sergeant James 'Kinch' Kinchloe said in a hoarse whisper before giving his fellow sergeant, Richard Baker, an eye roll.

"I have a guest coming and if your little Frenchman is feeling up to it, perhaps he could cook a little something?" Klink waved his hand casually, "oh, nothing too spectacular, just a plain five course meal..."

The Frenchman in question, Corporal Louis LeBeau, sputtered, "Five courses! Non, I do not feel up to it," he wiped his running nose on his sleeve. "We don't need your special supplies! They're probably nothing more than rotten German potatoes."

Klink straightened indignantly, "Germany produces the finest potatoes in all of Europe and furthermore, I would not turn down these supplies. Carrots, potatoes, onions…" he leaned closer to Hogan, "I have even managed to procure a whole side of beef."

Sergeant Andrew Carter, the youngest of the group, broke line and rushed over to the Kommandant's side. "You mean like pot roasts and stuff?!" The American's eyes lit up, "Gee, Colonel, I haven't had real beef since I left Bullfrog."

"Get back in line, Carter," Hogan ordered, before eyeing Klink suspiciously. "Where would you get a whole side of beef?"

Klink shrugged the question off, "that's none of your business. I got it so that the cockroach could make dinner for me and my guest." He narrowed his eyes, "Now, will you or won't you?"

Hogan rubbed his jaw, "I don't know, Kommandant. LeBeau has been really sick, it would take a lot out of him to make such a large meal."

Klink threw up his hands in frustration, "I'm already giving you the leftover beef, what more do you want?"

Hogan looked over at his men, "Leftover beef… meaning after you take yours and the guards take their portion," Hogan cocked an eyebrow, "that doesn't leave a whole lot of beef for the prisoners."

Klink pointed a finger at him, "an extra half-slice of brown bread for each prisoner for a month."

"Gee, Kommandant, you're all heart." Hogan said, sarcastically, "a whole slice of bread, extra fuel for the stoves, and new blankets. The ones we have are so full of holes, they're starting to resemble Swiss cheese."

Klink's eyes widened, "I can't do that. The wood and blankets are very strictly regulated." he shook his head adamantly, "Nein, a full slice of white bread is a high as I can go."

"I'll tell you what, I'll drop the wood. Just give us an extra slice of white bread for two months and the blankets." Hogan said. He saw Klink start to shake his head and added quickly, "Kommandant, you're getting a bargain. LeBeau will cook whatever you desire with the beef and you will get Newkirk and Carter to serve the meal. It will look very impressive to whomever is coming."

Klink thought it over and nodded slowly, "very well, I'll do what I can. One slice of bread for six weeks and blankets without holes." He pointed a finger in Hogan's face, "but they had better be healthy by Friday… I don't want her to get sick."

"Ruddy well and good," Newkirk muttered, rolling his eyes. "If 'e'll dismiss us, we might not catch pneumonia."

Klink glared at him, "DISMISSED!" he drew out the word as he saluted, before stalking back to his office.

The men shuffled into the barracks and dispersed into their separate groups. Most of them crawled back into bed for a few extra minutes of sleep before breakfast. Hogan sat down at the table with a shiver and rubbed his temples.

While LeBeau whipped the powdered eggs with water, Carter started the coffee. He chattered away as he put coffee in the pot, "I can't wait 'til we get the beef… I can show you how my mom makes her pot roast. Or we could make beef stew. Or..."

"Button up, Andrew." Newkirk groaned from his bunk on the other side of the room, "Me and the Colonel's gotta 'eadache."

Carter flushed before ducking his head, "Sorry."

Hogan stretched out his legs with a small shiver, "Don't worry about it, Carter. Just make the coffee extra strong."

"You want me to get on the radio and see if the Underground knows who's coming to dinner on Friday?" Kinch asked. When Hogan gave him a slight nod, he disappeared down into the radio-room beneath the barracks.

"You're not going to fish it out of Klink?" Carter asked.

"Klink's playing better ball than I am, at the moment," Hogan replied, blowing his nose into a handkerchief, "I should've been able to get that wood."
He glanced at Newkirk, who'd started another coughing fit, "Hopefully, we'll all feel better before Friday."

…10:20…

Kinch turned off the radio, with a frustrated sigh. He'd been on the radio for just over four hours. He'd spoken to every Underground member he could get a hold of and none of them had heard anything. The call that he'd put into London had been a long shot, which had also proved fruitless.

"Anything?" Hogan asked, as he stepped of the ladder and pulled his coat back down into place.

"Not a thing," Kinch muttered. "All the generals, colonels, and majors of any importance are either in Berlin or with their units. The politicians are in Berlin fawning over old bubble head in an attempt not to be put in jail or shot. Oh, and I've run out of Underground contacts." he punctuated the end of his sentence with a sneeze.

Hogan sighed, "You go get something to eat and lay down for awhile." He picked up the microphone, "I'll try London."

"I already did," Kinch said, standing, "they checked and double checked, but didn't find a thing. They are very interested, though."

"Aren't we all," Hogan gave mirthless laugh.

"They want you to let them know if it should be anything important," Kinch said, heading to the ladder.

Hogan sat down in the seat Kinch had vacated and watched his radioman disappear. Well, that certainly clinched it. As much as he didn't feel like manipulating the information out of Klink, that was what he had to do… well, that or be surprised and he hated surprises. Hogan lounged back in the chair and wondered why the Germans wouldn't just cooperate.

…12:45…

Klink's secretary, Helga, smiled when she saw the American colonel head toward the kommandantur. She smiled demurely, "Colonel Hogan, you shouldn't be out in weather like this." she chided, "You should be in bed."

Hogan grinned, "and miss seeing your sweet face? Not a chance." He contemplated kissing her, but decided against it. No use getting her sick, too. "Klink in his office?"

Helga pouted, "I thought you came to see me…"

"I did, honey," Hogan soothed, "but I also have to see Klink. Is he in?"

She moved back to her desk and sat down without speaking. Hogan rolled his eyes, "Aww, come on. You know I'm crazy about you."

She gazed at him through her lashes, "Ja? You have promised nylons and chocolate, but I haven't received any. You promised dinner and I haven't gotten that, either."

He flashed her his roguish smile, "I'll tell you what, if I can talk to Klink then I could convince him to invite you and me to Friday night's party."

Helga tried to look unimpressed, but the corners of he mouth turned up, "You can do that?"

"If I can find out who's going to be there and why," Hogan whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "I mean, if it's someone important no amount of persuading will get Klink to budge."

"She is just an old friend," Helga whispered back. She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder at Klink's office door, "from what I overheard, she was someone he used to know when he lived in Dusseldorf."

"An old friend?" Hogan pondered this development, "you wouldn't have happened to overhear her name, by any chance?"

She picked up the typing and fed a sheet of paper into the roller, "I'm not going around listening at the keyholes, you know." Hogan waited patiently for her to get over her bout of conscience. She sighed, "but, I might have heard him say Aurelie once or twice."

"Does she have a last name?" he prompted.

Helga shook her head, "none that I have heard, but the Kommandant is on the phone with her now."

Hogan tossed her a quick 'thanks' before heading over to the kommandant's door. He took a deep breath and burst in. "Kommandant, I need a word with you." he said, feigning surprise at seeing him on the phone, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were busy. I can come back."

Klink glared at him, but beckoned him to come in. "I'm sorry, but I have to go… Ja, I am looking forward to seeing you, too. Auf wiedersehen," Klink smiled into the receiver before returning it to the cradle.

"Somebody special?" Hogan asked, settling into the chair in front of Klink's desk.

"Hogan, why is it that whenever I am preoccupied with work, you come and interrupt me?" Klink complained, gesturing at the piles of paperwork on his desk, "these are the papers I must send in to get those blankets you demanded."

"Ah, yes," Hogan chuckled as he thought back to his days in the 504th, "requisition papers."

"What do you want, Hogan?" Klink said, starting back into his paperwork.

"LeBeau got the menu you sent over and he's not sure he has all the ingredients," Hogan answered, tracing the gold filigree on Klink's helmet.

Klink looked up, "the dinner is five days away, there will be plenty of time to get the supplies. Just give Schultz a list. Dismissed."

Hogan stood and made a show of hesitantly bitting his lip, "there is one other thing, sir..."

"Yes," Klink responded, returning to his paperwork.

"Is the woman you invited over a French collaborator?" Hogan asked, deciding on the blunt approach.

Klink's head snapped up, "who told you it was a woman?"

Hogan rolled his eyes, "you did, in the yard. You said you didn't want her to get sick. LeBeau heard her first name and flew of the handle. Started shouting in French. We had to get one of the Canadians from Barracks Five to translate… he said he wouldn't serve a crumb to any traitor of France."

Klink's rolled his eyes, "Aura-lee Switz is American, not French. He must cook, we had a deal."

Hogan put both hands on either side of Klink's desk and leaned closer, "what do you mean she's American? Is she a prisoner?"

Klink shook his head, "of course not. But in truth, she is only half American on her mother's side. Her father met and married her mother when he moved to America before the turn of the century. They returned to Dusseldorf just after her tenth birthday." his eyes went soft, as he reminisced, "I was a pilot in the first war and she was a nurse. When I crashed my plane, she was the one who took care of me. I was quite fond of her, but we were both ordered unto separate paths. I haven't seen her since 1920."

"When did you bump into her again?" Hogan asked, genuinely interested.

Klink blinked as the question brought him back to the present, "the annual report I gave in Berlin last month. Mutual acquaintances let her know I was in town and she called. She asked if I remembered her and then expressed her desire to visit. Please, tell the cockroach that he has nothing to worry about and I want everything perfect when she gets here."

"Yeah sure, Kommandant." Hogan answered, distractedly tossing the German a salute before he left.

He couldn't help but wonder why she called. A ladies man, Klink is not... she has to have an ulterior motive. He was lost in thought as he wound his way back to the barracks.
Maybe she really does like him... but then why the desire to come here? Surely, it would be easier for her to meet him in Berlin?

He slowed down in front of the main gate and studied the horizon. He couldn't put his finger on what exactly was wrong but, he was unable to shake the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. The wind shifted and blew directly into his face, causing him to shiver. Looks like snow, he thought absently.

The guard from the sentry tower shouted down to him, "Zurück weg vom Draht, Colonel."

They hated it when the prisoners stared beyond the gates, it made them nervous. He gave them a wave and continued on to the barracks. Pushing the questions to the back of his mind to stew on later, as he stepped into the meager warmth of the barracks.

… 21:00…Oświęcim, Poland…

"I will not tolerate anymore delays! You must be finished by Friday at the latest…" The line was silent for a moment. Only a faint crackling signaled that there was still a connection. "Dr. Dabrowsky, do I have to remind you what will happen to you and your family, if it is not finished?"

"No, you do not." Dr. Jozef Dabrowsky replied, gripping the telephone receiver until his knuckles turned white.

"Friday!" The sharp click indicated the end of their conversation.

Dr. Dabrowsky sighed as he dropped the receiver into the cradle. He was the foremost chemist in all of Poland and while this kept him out of the camps, it also meant that his work was used by the Nazis to enhance their war effort. Dr. Dabrowsky looked at the piles of papers on his desk. Unfortunately, he was done… the formula was perfect.

"Dr. Dabrowsky?" He turned toward the voice, "that was Major Bahr, I believe?"

Dabrowsky stared at the man then glanced over to his wife, who was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. Her eyes were filled with fear and unshed tears. He swallowed the lump in his throat, "when can you get my family out?"

"Tonight," the man assured, "right now, if you're ready."

Dr. Dabrowsky moved over to his wife and knelt down to eye level, "Anna, you know we have to go."

"But this is our home!" Anna interjected, "the only home Stefan and Katazyna have known." He took her hand and tried to allay her, but she shook him off, "no, Jozef! We cannot rip them from their home."

"We are not safe here," he tried to explain, "my work was the only thing that kept the Nazis at bay. I am done, Anna… they will have no more use for us."

"That doesn't mean they will hurt us," She countered desperately, "We've lived with them for years without any trouble… maybe they will just leave us alone?"

Dabrowsky turned to the man, "Mencher, is it possible that they will just leave us be?"

Mencher stepped closer to the couple, "Mrs. Dabrowska, if you and your family stay, the Nazis will come to your house and remove you, your husband, and your children."

He knelt beside the doctor, "Your husband and son will be taken to the labor camp, maybe even the mines. They will be worked until they drop from exhaustion." Anna started to shake her head and whispered for him to stop, but he continued, "You and your daughter will be taken to a separate camp. You will not have enough food to keep her from starving and when you get sick, there will be no medicine."

When Anna burst into tears, Dabrowsky told Mencher to stop. "No!" Mencher exclaimed, he put a hand on each of Anna's shoulders and forced her to look at him, "Mrs. Dabrowska, I do not tell you this to just to make you cry. I say these things to help you. Please, let me get you and your family to safety."

She took a shuddering breath, "But, I am afraid."

"I know," Mencher smiled reassuringly, "but we have been at this for years. If God is willing, we will have you in Sweden by Sunday." Dabrowsky squeezed her hand as she nodded wordlessly.
Mencher stood and pulled her to her feet, "Come on then, we haven't much time."

Translation:

Zurück weg vom Draht, Colonel. - Back away from the wire, Colonel.