Author's Note: This story is dedicated to jodm for not only introducing me to this wonderfully fun and hilarious show but also for being a great friend.

The Lies We Spew

These were the moments Kinch hated the most. The moments were there was no radio to monitor, no mission to plan, no free time to joke around with the boys. The moments when he waited in dark barracks, pretending to sleep, while his friends risked their lives to blow up targets, meet with the underground, or accomplish some other dangerous task.

Tonight the mission was to blow up a bridge that the krauts had just finished replacing after they had blown it up last month. Needless to say, the guard on the bridge was tight as the Germans were just as determined to keep that bridge in one piece as London was that it be destroyed.

Hogan decided that the only way they were getting close that bridge would be by posing as members of the Gestapo and it didn't matter how well Kinch could make himself sound like a German he could never pass for one. So Hogan, Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter left with the bombs and Kinch was charged with holding down the fort – again.

Unable to fake sleep any longer, Kinch quietly eased himself out of bed and tiptoed through the dark barracks to where Olsen kept watch.

The POW sat next the sink/periscope where every ten minutes he would check the camp for any unusual activity – the standard procedure for whenever Hogan and his men were out of camp for the night.

Gesturing Olsen to step aside, Kinch used the periscope to check the grounds. Everything appeared normal but the feeling of uneasiness remained. Telling himself that that the uneasiness was just the result of the others being out of camp while he was left behind, Kinch walked back to his bunk and laid down.

Suddenly, the barracks shook and the sounds of a distant explosion filled the room.

Kinch smiled. Mission accomplished.

Time slowly passed and Kinch began to relax even though sleep still eluded him. Soon his team members would return he would be called on to send a report of their success to London.

Suddenly, Olsen cried out, "Problem, Sergeant! The lights are on in Klink's office."

Kinch hurried over the periscope and saw that Olsen was correct. His stomach twisted into knots as he watched Schultz walk into the office. There was only one reason that Kinch could think of that Klink and Schultz would be meeting in the middle of the night: an unannounced bed check.

"What do we do?" Olsen asked, the worry evident in his voice. "Hogan and the others aren't back."

What, indeed? If their team was discovered missing while the explosion had happened there would be no way Hogan would be able to convince Klink – well the Gestapo – that he hadn't been involved and that would be the end of their whole operation. No, he needed a plan and fast but insane schemes were Hogan's forte not his.

The whole situation was enough to him sick to his stomach.

Sick…

It was a crazy idea, but life in Stalag Thirteen meant that Kinch lived crazy every day. Grabbing the nearest bucket, Kinch shoved it towards an unfortunate POW. "Start puking."

The POW pushed the bucket back. "You're off your rocker!"

Kinch's voice went stern as he stated, "You know what you signed up for when you were assigned to this barracks. Now starting puking, we need to convince Klink that the whole barracks is sick." Then turning to the rest of the men, Kinch added, "That goes for the rest of you as well. Grab some buckets!"

The men didn't look happy but they responded to Kinch's orders. Tapping Olsen on the shoulder, Kinch got the attention of the man. "Can you mimic the Colonel's voice?"

The POW considered the question. "Not well, but if he's supposed to be sick I can probably get close enough."

"Do it."

Olsen disappeared into Hogan's office. Looking around, Kinch saw that blankets had been placed on the empty bunks to cover for the missing men. Every bucket in the barracks had been found as some men forced themselves to vomit while others lay on their bunks moaning as if in pain; the wretched smell quickly filled the small space.

Grabbing a now full bucket, Kinch gave the queasy POW a look of thanks as he positioned himself by the door with the bucket at his feet. Opening the door slightly, Kinch watched as Sergeant Schultz approached.

Stepping outside, Kinch closed the door behind him. The large man jumped back in surprise. "Kinchloe, what are you doing out of the barracks? You are supposed to be asleep."

"You don't want to go in there."

"But I have to go to the barracks."

"Trust me, Schultz. You don't want to go in there."

"The Kommandant has ordered a bed check and I have to make sure all prisoners are accounted for." Schultz shot Kinch a worried look. "All prisoners will be accounted for?"

"Everyone is present."

"Then there is no problem."

Kinch shrugged as he stepped aside. "Your funeral."

Schultz started to open the door then paused and turned back to Kinch. "Funeral?"

Holding a single finger to his lips, Kinch gestured toward the door and whispered, "Listen."

Leaning so that his ear touching the door, Schultz furrowed his brow in concentration. "I hear something. Sounds like the prisoners are sick. Sounds like someone is throwing up."

Ever so slightly, Kinch opened the door so that the scent from the bucket he put next to the door wafted up to the nose of the German sergeant. Schultz grimaced as he added, "Smells like someone is sick."

"The whole barracks is sick and we don't know what it is. Could be contagious."

Kinch had never seen Schultz move so quickly. The sergeant took several hurried steps backwards before his feet got tangled up together and he fell backwards onto his butt. Schutlz' rifle flew out of his hands and bounced twice before settling on the ground. Kinch stifled a laugh as he mused that it was a good thing that Schultz never loaded his rifle.

The amusement that Schultz seemed to always provide was short-lived as the hunched over form of their Kommandant hurried toward them. "Schultz! What is going on here?"

Schultz tried to jump his feet but with his weight fell right back down again. Klink's face was showing signs of impatience though Kinch figured that his mood wasn't helped by being out of bed in the middle of the night.

Unfazed by the scene he was causing, Schultz stood tall, saluted and gave his report. "The prisoners are all accounted for."

"Dummkopf!"Klink shouted as he shook his fist in the air. "You never went inside!"

"True, Kommandant. But the prisoners are sick. I heard them puking."

"I don't want to listen to your excuses."

"But the prisoners could be contagious. I cannot be sick. I am too young to die."

Klink made no attempt to hide his frustration. "Go into the barracks or you can catch a cold on the Russian Front."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." Schultz saluted again and turned on his heel and marched toward the barracks with Klink following two steps behind.

Realizing that it was time to make the Kommandant aware of his presence, Kinch eased open the barrack's door and grabbed the waiting bucket. Stepping the path the approaching duo, Kinch shoved the vomit-filled bucket right under the Kommandant's nose. "Kommandant, you came. Can you round up more buckets?"

Klink's reaction was everything that Kinch had hoped for. The man recoiled backwards, disgust showing on this face. Attempting to recover from his initial response, Klink straightened and held tight to his swagger cane as he declared, "I am not your nurse. Get your own buckets."

"I would, Sir, but I'm not allowed out of the barracks."

It was amusing, Kinch realized as he watched the Kommandant respond to his manipulations. He understood why Hogan enjoyed it so much.

Turning to face his sergeant, Klink shouted, "Schultz! Get this man some buckets."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz replied unenthusiastically before leaving on his chore.

Refocusing his attention back on Kinch, Klink asked, "How did this happen?"

"One man started throwing up and before we knew it the whole barracks was sick."

Klink's brow furrowed. "You are not sick."

"Don't know how I escaped it, Sir, but I think I'd rather than sick than clean up after fourteen ill men."

Grimacing at the image Kinch described, Klink reluctantly ordered, "Open the door."

Obeying, Kinch stepped into the barracks and was delighted at the scene before him. The men were playing their parts to the hilt and had made sure that the empty bunks looked like they had men in them.

Klink stood in the doorway but didn't step across the threshold. He quickly grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket but it was of no service in blocking out the putrid smell. "Where is Hogan?"

"In bed." Kinch replied gesturing towards Hogan quarters.

"Hogan," Klink cried out; the Kommandant clearly had no intentions of entering the barracks.

Walking over to the office door, Kinch knocked and then slightly opened it. "Colonel, the Kommandant wants to see you."

"Tell the Kommandant, I…" Olsen's voice was cut off by the sound of retching which was quickly echoed by many of the boys in barracks two.

Klink's face was rapidly turning green. Taking a couple steps backward, Klink decided that there was no reason to continue to risk his own health. "I can see that Hogan is sick and that that his men are all here. Auf Wiedersehen."

Then without further ado, the Kommandant of Stalag Thirteen scurried backwards, eager to put as much room between himself and his sick charges as possible. That plan might have worked except he backed straight into the large stomach of Sergeant Shultz. Shaking his fists in the air, the flustered Kommandant marched off without another word.

Obvious to the scene he was causing, Schultz lifted his arms to show off his find and announced, "I have buckets!"

"Thanks, Schultz," Kinch said taking the objects out of the large guard's hands.

Looking worried, Schultz added, "Tell Colonel Hogan, I hope he feels better."

"I will."

As Schultz left, Kinch allowed himself a slight grin; he'd done it! His scheme had worked! But as Kinch prepared to close the door, he saw a single black staff car pull into camp and feared that he had started to celebrate prematurely.

When Klink hurried up to the car and let the passenger out, Kinch knew that his fears were true: Major Hochstetter had arrived at Stalag Thirteen.

Could this evening get any worse?

Biting his lip, Kinch tried to think of what the Gestapo officer could be doing here. Hopefully, it would be some private matter. Stepping back outside, he stood in the shadows near the barrack's door where he could overhear the officers' discussion.

Klink was in his usual suck-up to the brass mode. "Major, it is always a pleasure to see you."

"I cannot say the same," Hochstetter growled. "I was on my way to make an important arrest when a bridge, not but two kilometers ahead of me, exploded!"

"Those barbarians! I am grateful that the Major was not hurt but, I do not understand, why have you come to Stalag Thirteen? Surely the Gestapo is better suited to catching these criminals."

"I assure you we are," Hochstetter declared, "which is why I am here."

"Major, need I remind you that there has never been a successful escape from Stalag Thirteen."

"Escapes no, but sabotage yes. Your Colonel Hogan is the cause of this!"

A hint of panic entered Klink's voice. "I do not understand how Hogan could be involved; he is in bed sick. We just finished with a surprise bed check. It is part of my escape-proof security plan."

Hochstetter looked shocked. "You saw Hogan?"

"I heard him," Klink clarified. "And I assure you Hogan is a very sick man."

"Did you see him?"

When Klink didn't answer, Hochstetter stormed towards barracks two. Cursing Klink's inability to lie properly, Kinch moved so that he blocked the doorway. He had no idea what he was going to do but Kinch knew that he had to keep Hochstetter out of the barracks or they all would have a morning appointment with the firing squad.

Hochstetter walked straight up to Kinch and stopped directly in front of him. Glaring at the Negro POW, the major shouted, "What is this man doing here?"

Eager to calm the furious major, Klink called out in a helpful voice, "This is Sergeant Kinchloe; he is assigned to these barracks."

"Why is he is in my way?"

Gathering up his courage, Kinch looked the Gestapo officer in the eye and stated, "Sir, the men are sick. I advise you against going inside."

"Arrest this man!" Hochsetter screeched in a voice that made Kinch's ears hurt.

"That will not be necessary. Move, Kinchloe, or it's the cooler for you."

Realizing that there was nothing left to do, no more delaying tactics he could try, Kinch stepped aside and let Hochstetter through. Ignoring the puking and moaning POWs who continued to put on a show, the major went straight for Hogan's quarters.

Kinch stopped breathing as the door opened; this was it, the moment their operation fell apart.

"See, Klink, I told you…" Hochstetter's announcement was cut short as he spotted the man hunched over a bucket who looked like he had spent the past several hours heaving his guts out inside of running around the German countryside blowing up bridges.

Kinch couldn't help but smile as Hogan lifted his head and looked at those who had barged into his room. "Major, can't a man have some peace when he's sick?"

Unable to comprehend the sight in front of him, Hochstetter simply let out his rage. "Bah!"

Kinch had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over by the major who was making a beeline for his car. Klink ran awkwardly after him, shouting something about Stalag Thirteen's reputation.

Once the door closed, the effects of his plan quickly became apparent and Kinch found himself on the receiving end of several not so friendly looks.

"Boy, it really stinks in here." Carter announced.

"Really," Newkirk replied sarcastically, "and I thought I smelled roses."

"Roses would help but I'm not sure it would be enough. Maybe if we…"

"Carter," Hogan said.

LeBeau looked offended as he pondered the contents of the nearest bucket though Kinch figured that the chef was upset because he knew that it held the remains of his latest meal. The Frenchman looked up as Newkirk shouldered past him on his way to the tunnel entrance. "Where are you going?"

"To sleep in the tunnel."

"Wait for me," LeBeau shouted as he grabbed his blanket.

"No one is sleeping in the tunnel."

Hogan's order was met with groans all around. Kinch was beginning to wonder the Colonel would be facing a mutiny before the night was over.

"That's cruel and inhumane punishment," Newkirk protested.

"This punishment is the reason you're not sitting in a Gestapo cell." Newkirk looked properly admonished as Hogan continued, "Crack open the windows, I doubt the guards will notice, and move the buckets into the tunnel. But don't get rid of them. The Krauts will need to see us empty them tomorrow. Also, the whole barracks will be on bed rest for the next couple of days while we recover."

More grumbles followed this announcement but the men moved quickly to get rid of the worst of the smell.

Hogan moved into his quarters and gestured for Kinch to join him. Once they were alone, the tired staff sergeant breathed a sigh of relief. "That was close."

Hogan nodded. "You did well, Kinch."

"Thank you, Sir."

Hogan got a twinkle in his eyes as he ordered, "Next time, pick a lie that's easier to stomach."

Kinch laughed. Why did he have a feeling that the boys were never going to let him live this one down?